Chapter 6: Ruins Are The Best Place to Make Commitments
[Alkahestry-based Human Weapon, Kamiko Albarn, 1913, town of Baschool, Briggs]
I failed to completely turn Subject No. 563 and Subject No. 564 back to their former bodies, but I have found a way to alter the alchemical coding with alkahestry.
It prevents them from fully turning into a self-wielding weapon, needing a wielder [Meister] with alkahestry-based transmutation to activate their full-body-transformation. It is to keep the military from using them, as well as to greatly halt the hemochromatosis process.
"Major Yumi, how about the thing I told you to find out?"
Azusa saluted as her direct superior slipped into the room. "Sir, I've found out that this particular location is the East City National Museum."
"And the date?"
"Nothing except that it's the date of this year's solstice, Sir."
The man hummed, taking the information in as a deep frown settled on his face. "There must be something else."
"There's nothing particularly amiss, Sir," Azusa replied, adjusting her glasses. But after a second, she added, "Although, if there's something that might interest you, four decades ago, the northeast block of what is now the Archival Section of the National Museum used to be East City's first Laboratorium, before it was relocated to the new building."
Major General Albarn slit his eyes, as if finally catching a prey's tail. "That's it. That's the place. There's gotta be something hidden in it! My wife wouldn't go to that much trouble just to code that location if there's nothing going on in that building! Find out everything about it immediately! Use any means necessary!"
"But, Sir, we'll need further permittance if we—"
"Who said I'm commanding you to do this with the high command's knowledge, Major?" Major General cut her off with a little bit more force than normal. "Do it silently. Like always."
"Sir, this is certainly going to cause you more trouble in the long r—"
"I don't care!" her superior interrupted her again, growling. "I don't give a damn about my position if it means I could get a clue about the people who caused my wife's death! We have two things to think about: a location, and a date! I want to know everything before the said date, do you understand, Major Yumi?!"
Azusa refrained herself from commenting further. The Major General had looked more and more… unbalanced, since he'd obtained new clues a week before; a clue that Azusa herself was not sure had anything to do with the incident ten years ago. It was just a piece from what Maka had dug from under Baschool. Seemed important, yes, but didn't mean it was particularly a hint for this case. Azusa didn't believe in coincidences.
But the Major General had buried his desire for revenge for so long that it started to leak out into his usual façade. He started to lose his composure. Even other soldiers had noticed something was up with the Major General.
She would do her best to find out more about it, of course. She was eager to see justice for Kamiko Albarn served, as much as the Major General she dared say. But what she was truly afraid of was if they were just chasing after a dead clue, again. If there was no one for the Major General to put the blame on.
She had seen everything. She had seen the Albarn couple's last fight. She had seen the disfigured corpse of Kamiko Albarn. She had seen the ring they kept within the coffin. She had seen the absolute nothingness on Maka Albarn's face as she stared at the freshly buried grave.
She had seen everything. She had seen how Spirit Albarn lost himself before said grave.
She didn't wish to see it a second time.
So she just inhaled once, and answered, "Yes, Sir."
Azusa just wished that all of it wouldn't end in a bad way.
Maka didn't know how long she had stared at the telephone receiver in her hand. Kilik was out of town for some mysterious assignment so she had to report her progress directly to Kid. She struggled with her own mind for the twelfth time, and finally decided to put the phone down. She knew it wasn't a wise decision to stall telling Kid her new findings, but her heart wasn't ready. It might be better and safer to just give her report to Kilik in a proper document. He would get back the next day anyway. Yeah. It could wait.
Besides, she had only worked out half of the entire document from the music box. There were things she still couldn't decipher, so she used this to justify her stalling.
Rubbing her eyes, Maka grumbled to her Mama. Why did she have to make things so difficult?
She left the phone and floated down to the first floor. Her steps brought her to the living room against her will, following the sounds of snickers and familiar grumbles accompanied by some echoes of piano notes. She found a tentatively enthusiastic Soul observing an amused Sid tuning Papa's old upright piano.
She smiled despite herself.
She knew Soul had messed around with Papa's old piano, trying to put the music theories he'd read into practice. So far, Maka thought Soul's playing was okay for a beginner, but she was obviously a horrible judge, because she couldn't tell that the piano sound was flat. Sid had heard Soul's playing from his shop yesterday and decided that the piano desperately needed some fine-tuning. So here he was.
"I think you should charge Papa for this, Sid," Maka said, grabbing both men's attention. She pretended she didn't see Soul's little twitch.
"I'll send the bill, don't you worry," answered Sid, throwing his face-splitting grin at her.
Sometimes Maka forgot how Sid was basically jack-of-all-trades. It was a wonder where or why an automail engineer slash ex-elite soldier learned to fine-tune a piano.
Really. He had done so much to maintain things in the Albarn residence since her parents' relationship started to crack; since her parents stopped giving their attention to anything other than their fights. He had tended to every little thing, from repairing the roof to taking care of Mama's old telescope.
Maka felt her eyes become misty. She had never truly appreciated how much she owed him. "Thank you, Sid… Really..."
Sid let out a breathy laugh. "I'm just happy that there's someone who wants to play this piano again."
She hid her smile and glanced at Soul, who was silently radiating a combination of shyness and giddy excitement beside her. "Y'don't have to do it," he mumbled to the floor.
Sid waved him off with his tuning lever. "An out of tune piano would do you no good, kid. I might not look like it, but musically ignorant is not the kind of man I am."
Soul dipped his head lower. "'M just messing around anyway," he still insisted, but Sid ignored him.
The older man pressed a key and listened to the sound with closed eyes, hummed, then closed the piano lid and declared, "Okay. All's good! Now you can practice to your heart's content!"
"Mmrgh…" answered Soul.
Sid slapped his back in the fatherly manner he always did to Black Star, which only resulted in a violent cough when done on Soul. "Just give me a recital sometime and I'll consider it even!" he thundered. Then he packed his tools and left with a booming laugh. Maka smiled. It was clear where Black Star picked his loudness from.
Despite his earlier words, Soul sent a silent request for permission, asking if he could sit and play the thing right away. His eyes darted from the piano to hers, thumbs fidgeting as he pressed his lips into a thin line.
She snorted, rolling her eyes as if saying, 'You just ask now?' and tilted her head to the instrument as an answer. His eyes widened slightly, looking bright with excitement as he wasted no time to slide into the piano bench, already starting to push the piano keys giddily.
Smiling inwardly, she sat on a nearby couch and watched him play. She was worried their relationship would get strained again because of the last incident in the library, but to her relief, both of them had reached an unspoken agreement to bury it, deliberately avoiding to talk about that particular topic. She knew it only meant carrying a time bomb, but she would have it for now. Soul was here, and he was okay.
Things weren't great, but at least they were okay.
Maka's thoughts flew back to the present when Soul stopped his playing and scrutinized the music sheet in front of him with a frown, struggling to play a particularly hard part. She stifled a snort. He looked like a child with a new toy. How adorable.
Wait.
Maka angrily frowned. The last thought was completely unnecessary.
"Listen, Kristopher, I need you to be very brave. Be a good child and wait for me here. Don't get out whatever happens and don't make noise," his father said urgently, shoving him into a wardrobe.
Little Kristopher felt tears prickling his eyes, but he held it back bravely. The son of the Führer does not cry. But a wavering question slipped out of his lips nonetheless. "We're gonna be okay, right, Father? You're gonna be okay, right?"
His Father smiled. And in that moment, Little Kristopher realized how old his Father looked. There were so many more tired lines and white hairs than he'd remembered. But his smile was still warm, full of love. At least that was what Little Kristopher thought. He was too small and scared to recognize fear lurking behind those golden eyes.
"Of course, son. I'll be back for you in a bit. Wait for me here and remember: don't make a noise. You can do that, right?"
Little Kristopher was overwhelmed with an indescribable fear, but he nodded shakily. He was a good son. "Yes, Father."
With that, his father kissed his forehead and closed the wardrobe, trapping Little Kristopher in a cramped and suddenly-bloodcurdling dark box.
But Little Kristopher was brave. He might be trembling and was a touch shy from crying, but he was brave. If his father told him he shouldn't make a noise, then he would put all of his being into silence.
He didn't know how long he had been sitting in the dark, counting his own breath. But after an eternity, a loud sound was heard from the outside, and there were gunshots accompanying a deranged laugh.
His breath quickened. He slapped his hands on his mouth and pinned his eyes to the ground. He should be silent.
He could hear more gunshots, and there were definitely people fighting just outside the room. There were more yells and screams, but he couldn't make any word out of them.
Little Kristopher just sat there. Silent. Still counting his own rapid breath. The dark was still nerve-wracking, but he was okay. He was a good son. He was brave. He was brave. He was brave.
But the noises had now reached the room. He could definitely hear his Father's voice, but he was too paralyzed to understand a thing.
There was something big hitting the wardrobe, rattling it with sheer force. The impact left the wardrobe door a little crooked, and something wet and smelling like rusted iron splashed through the little opening onto Little Kristopher's face. He didn't like it one bit.
"—lonel?"
Little Kristopher still hadn't understood what happened, but he could make out shapes and colors through the little slit between the wardrobe doors. There was someone very buffy standing up with a grunt, complaining something about 'Father' and 'May-doo-sah'.
"—Sir?"
That someone was bloody. Very bloody. There was a hole on his forehead that even Little Kristopher could vaguely tell was a gunshot wound.
But the person was standing. And chuckling.
"Kid?"
Little Kristopher just sat there. Still in the dreadfully dark wardrobe. Still completely silent. Although his silence wasn't so much stemmed from his obedience to his Father anymore.
"Kid?!"
"Kristopher?!"
There were more voices now, calling his name. But Little Kristopher was still frozen.
"Kristopher! It's okay! It's okay! We're here! You're okay!"
Little Kristopher barely registered that it was the voice of Lieutenant Colonel Albarn. He felt his body being lifted and brought into a hug, too tight to be reassuring, and his face was pinned into someone's shoulder.
"Kid, please!"
The room was completely trashed. There was red everywhere. It was far from the neat and orderly room he'd seen before he entered the wardrobe. There was red everywhere. His Father wouldn't be pleased if he saw the room. He must tidy it later, make sure everything was in order. But there was red everywhere. There was someone lying on the floor, but Lieutenant Colonel Albarn firmly held him in place, preventing him from seeing who it was.
"It's okay, Kristopher! It's okay! You're okay!" Lieutenant Colonel Albarn kept repeating those words, even though Little Kristopher didn't understand why he kept doing that.
Where was his Father?
"Kristopher?!"
He wanted to see his Father.
"It's okay, Kristopher!"
"KRISTOPHER!"
Kid's eyes flashed open. A pair of firm hands were shaking him awake. When his eyes focused, he found a very worried-looking Liz in front of him.
Oh, apparently, he was covered in cold sweat. And his breathing was especially loud.
"You okay?" Liz demanded, still not letting go of her hold.
"I—yeah. Just… just a bad dream," Kid rasped lamely. His voice was cracked and that was not good. He was supposed to be the rock in his team.
Liz sent a glare that said she wasn't impressed by his pathetic attempt at covering his frenzied brain. Also, his breathing was still too loud.
But he was a professional in donning a business face. In eight quick breaths he was back in his usual composure, even if it was still a touch too tight. A sound soul dwells in a sound mind and a sound body. He couldn't lose his balance.
"I'm okay, Lieutenant," he emphasized the last word; a subtle cue for her to let it go.
Of course, she was still stubborn. She was Liz Thompson. But before she could say anything, there were frantic steps echoing from the hallway and a panting Ford came into the office a second later, nearly tripping himself in his haste.
"What's wrong, Ford?" Kid urged. Even though he was often enthusiastic, Ford was never frantic. He always prided himself as the poised scholar among his team.
"Colonel! This is terrible!" he blurted, slamming a paper onto the table.
Both Liz and Kid leaned into the paper, which was actually a map of East City, and obviously had been ripped out of a larger map. Above it were scribbles of specifically placed dots, connected by a circle into something that sent a chill down Kid's spine.
"Ford, what is this?"
Ford scrunched his face in a grave seriousness, for once not bothering to adjust his crooked glasses. "Exactly what you're thinking about, Sir. Those dots are where our list of cases happened."
Liz was vibrating with anxiousness and dread beside him. "Kid, what's the meaning of this?!" she demanded, clearly not liking her inability to grasp an alchemical problem.
Kid ignored her, instead balling his hands hard enough that his knuckles turned white. His suspicion was right.
"I'm calling Professor Stein."
[Alkahestry-based Human Weapon, Kamiko Albarn, 1913, town of Baschool, Briggs]
I have altered the alchemical coding of Subject No. 563 and Subject No. 564 with alkahestry.
It prevents them from fully being a self-wielding weapon and needing a wielder [further to be called a Meister] with alkahestry-based transmutation to activate their full-body-transformation. It is to keep the military from using them, as well as to greatly halt the hemochromatosis process.
However, this doesn't mean the alkahestry had succeeded to fully stop the inevitable organ failure and eventual death. It only prolongs their life, as constant transmutation with the Black Blood as the trigger will drain its core energy, thus shortening the subject's lifespan.
A way to prevent this altogether, is to never transmute into a weapon ever again. The other way is to have a permanent Meister doing the triggering and inking a counter-circle to shift back to a human. This way, subjects can still be a weapon while maintaining their lifespan.
The full-weapon form also has the ability to amplify the Meister's alchemy. And because it is written in alkahestry, it can also expand the perception of alkahestry users. The Alkahestry shared between them could also help to reverse the hemochromatosis process, which would in turn lengthen the weapon's lifespan bit-by-bit.
The counter-circle is coded on the fourth Dragon Path of the music box. It is also needed to destroy the music.
Maka blinked awake from her stupefied state, hands still gripping the deciphered document in tight fists.
This.
This was her answer.
She didn't understand the last sentence, but she didn't give it any attention. She was far more interested in the penultimate one.
She could help Soul.
She could help Soul!
Overwhelmed, she just sat there in silence, seeing without looking at the fully-deciphered document. Soul's hand-written music sheet and the scribbles he made to help her understand the piece stared back at her innocently. Maka gritted her teeth.
But asking to be his meister meant trapping him forever with her. That was basically the same as stripping him of his freedom, because he would be tied to her. What would the good of a stable body be if he couldn't go anywhere after? Being with her wasn't exactly the safest place. Not anymore. Or never, really. She couldn't do that. She couldn't cage him!
He could just walk away. He could just not transmute anymore. Yes. But something told her that was basically impossible.
Maka held her head and yanked her hair as she bit back a scream. She threw a frustrated glare at the music box.
"Is this the real reason why you sent me to him?!" she spat, but there was no one to answer her. Well, except for the irritated meow somewhere under the table. Maka hissed. "I don't need this now, Blair."
The cat replied with an offended hiss, walking away from her, her pumpkin bell chiming with obvious distaste.
Urgh. She had to be in too much stress if she started to put emotion into an inanimate object's sound.
Maka refrained from grinding her teeth, but she took her magnifying glass and started to scrutinize the fourth Dragon Path. For now, only work could numb her thoughts and keep her from being completely crazy.
Frank N. Stein was never a morning person. He typically said 'Good Evening' at 8 AM. So he had the right to grumble when someone knocked his door at the normal human visiting time of 10 AM.
But his irritation slightly faded when he caught sight of his guest.
"Kristopher, good to see you," Frank greeted his oldest pupil with delight—which meant an obviously fake excited tone and a very flat smile. "Something big must be happening. I got two rare guests in a week."
Kristopher didn't say anything except a low 'Good morning, Professor,' before he slipped into the house. Frank followed him further into the house, while Kristopher's Lieutenant kept her position as a lookout. Both of them had worn minimal disguise instead of military uniform, which implied that this was somewhat serious.
Frank decided that he was not going to have a peaceful day. He might need to move his schedule for anatomy research behind. Again.
"So I deduce this is not a casual visit where you tell your professor you miss him, or when you say it has been a long time and you want to catch up over tea," Frank drawled as he put a cigarette in his mouth. Kristopher didn't answer, only continuing his silent stride deeper into Frank's lair.
They had arrived at Frank's library, which was the complete opposite of the neat and orderly book nest in the Albarn mansion. The fact that Kristopher didn't as much as wince at the room's disarray spoke volumes about how distracted he was. Frank had partly hoped his pupil would immediately start to tidy the mess the second he walked into the room.
Both of them dropped themselves onto the chairs when Kristopher grimaced, saying, "I apologize for my rude behavior, Professor. I only go to you when I need something."
Frank waved his hand, signaling that it was okay. It should be clear that he was joking, but sadly other people often thought Frank truly meant the jab in his words. Sadly, not everyone had a fine taste in humor.
"Well? What do you have for me?" Frank droned, puffing out smoke. He was never one to beat around the bush.
Kristopher made an apologizing look again, but eventually produced a book from his coat's inner pocket, then pulled a folded paper out of said book. He put it on the table for them to examine. It was a map of East City, with an alchemy circle scribbled over it.
Frank let out an interested hum that surely sounded like a dispassionate huff for people who didn't know him. "Huh," he commented.
"It's a human transmutation circle, isn't it?" Kristopher quaked, voice a little bit wary.
The mad alchemist heard the implied apology in his pupil's tone. They had never talked about human transmutation since Frank gave a stern lecture about it to Kristopher and Maka. Not because his knowledge was lacking, but rather, because he knew too much.
"It is," Frank finally confirmed. He stood up, followed by the young Colonel. "Follow me. I have something to show you."
Frank didn't realize his mouth was smirking. His fake eye reflected the dim light as he opened his lab door for Kristopher.
It might be worth it to postpone the dissection schedule after all.
Maka closed her notes with a resounding thud. Blair meowed from somewhere around her ankles.
She had finally gotten the hang of it.
She had broken down everything about the music box and finally finished deciphering the entire document.
There, in front of her, was a half-finished new pair of alkahestry circles she had constructed, specialized to make a bond between a weapon and a meister.
But she hadn't worked up the courage to tell Soul anything. Hell, she hadn't even sorted out her mind to give Kid a proper report. She was vibrating with elation at having an effective way to fix Soul, but the fear of ripping him out of his freedom dwarfed it all. She wanted to give him things, not take it from him. He deserved everything. He deserved to be free and happy.
Yet, if she had to be honest, deep inside her heart, she did wish to keep him close to her; something that should be concerning if she had a right mind.
Maka shut her eyes tightly, dropping her head onto the table. She felt disgusted with herself. What was the difference between her and the alchemists who imprisoned Soul and his brother?
These thoughts had tied her in some kind of flurry ever since she first deciphered the second half of her Mama's music box. She thought she did a great job of concealing all of it, but sometimes she could feel Soul's silent stares.
Blair climbed onto the table and pawed her cheek, meowing softly.
"You got any advice?" she asked the cat.
Blair replied with a tilt of head and a long meow. Maka smiled despite herself, stroking the soft fur on her pet's back. "Yeah, you're always good with words, Blair. Maybe I should take your advice."
The cat gave her an agreeing purr.
She slumped still in that position for who knew how long, until her stomach reminded her that she needed some actual food.
Even though her initial destination was the kitchen, her feet did a turn to the opposite direction when she heard voices coming from the living room.
She found a shirtless Soul complaining to Kilik about something as the Major helped him redoing the bandage on his chest. A wave of guilt swarmed Maka's heart when she realized that she had never asked Soul about his injuries. All of her attention was on her project, and for once, Maka was ashamed of her dedication to her work. She had never thought about how painful it was for him to take care of his injuries on his own. It had to be painful enough for him to consider a soldier's help.
Maka sucked back a sniff. She totally had been acting like an ass to him right when he needed her help the most.
She scoffed inwardly. And he said she was worth it.
The wave of guilt suddenly didn't feel like enough punishment. Maybe she would feel better if Soul had berated her, if he had blamed her, if he had called her out on her vile treatment of him. But she knew he wouldn't. He would never. Stupid merciful boy with a heart of gold.
"Hey…" he greeted her with a tentative smile.
She gave him a weak smile back. "Hey…" she breathed. "How's your injuries?"
He gave her a shrug. "Healing well, I guess. Kilik's doing a good job of helping me."
"What can I say, I have many talents and I love helping people," Kilik made himself known. "Besides, Soul is just hopeless."
"Shut up, Kilik," the Ishvalan boy shot back.
It was a second too long that she realized they were already on first-name basis. Tilting her head in wonder, she inquired, "Since when had you guys become friends?"
That question might come off as rude to strangers' ears, but for people who knew Soul, that was a reasonable issue to ask.
Soul was still wearing a flat expression, but Kilik slung Fire over his shoulder and winked. "I was the one who taught him how to ride a motorcycle."
Not bothering to hold her voice back, Maka screeched, "You can ride a motorcycle?!"
Instead of answering, Soul slapped Kilik's automail arm, hissing, "I told you to shut up!"
Maka thought it was only Black Star who could force his way into Soul's personal space without him turning into blades, but she had forgotten how Kilik's easygoing and honest nature could put even the most physically allergic person at ease. He was just pacifying like that.
Ignoring Soul, Kilik continued, "He almost crashed mine, so he had to be satisfied with Sid's old ride, but yeah, I'm proud to say my disciple has finally mastered the thing."
Said disciple scowled fiercely while Maka stared between the two boys with mouth forming a little 'o'. Part of Maka felt happy that Soul had started to make more friends, another part of her felt slightly disagreeing because her Mama had never approved of motorcycles, but a rather big part felt sad because she had missed so much of Soul's life within the month she turned a blind eye at him.
She must have made a pathetic look because Soul stared at her with a displeased frown. He gathered the first-aid kit into their box and snatched his discarded shirt from the sofa's headrest, flinging it over his shoulder instead of wearing it properly.
Maka just wanted to open her mouth when her stomach announced her initial intention rather loudly. Kilik politely hid a cackle while Soul did a tiny snort, his eyes partly shined into a lighter color. Maka didn't know if she could produce smoke from her ears as she was reminded about the same occurrence in Death City a millenia ago.
"I'll make you something," Soul stated, already standing.
"You don't have to always do this, you know," Maka debated, trying to save the tiny little piece of dignity she had left. A futile attempt. Her face was still hot.
Soul tilted his head and made an impassive look. "'S okay. I like cooking." He took the first aid kit box and shrugged. "Besides, Tsubaki gave me an easy and awesome soup recipe and I wanna try that."
Maka just stared helplessly as he whistled his way to the kitchen. Kilik coughed. Something about the tone of his cough irritated Maka, so she barked, "What?"
"Patty was right. He is your house-husband."
Maka's eyes flared in shock and embarrassment. "He is not my house-husband!" she shrieked. "What is wrong with all of you?!"
The damn Major threw his head back as he cackled loudly. Jerk. She shouldn't be too hasty by deciding that Kilik was nice. She had to remember that he was of the same species as Black Star: annoying big brother figures.
But when his laughs died down, Maka's mind had already wandered to their previous conversation. An idea popped inside her head. She didn't know if it was a good idea. A little bit of her was afraid that Soul would take it the wrong way, but anyway, she squared up her shoulders and leaned to the soldier.
"Kilik, can I ask you something?"
"Yeah?"
Maka pressed her lips nervously, stealing a peek at the direction Soul had vanished earlier. Her skepticism towards this thing she wanted to ask was mostly because her Mama's disdain towards it. But Soul seemed to like it so much, and she needed to properly show how much she wanted to thank him for all he'd done, so she casted aside her anxiousness and embarrassment as she braved herself to blurt at Kilik:
"Do you know where to buy motorcycles?"
One thing Maka was sure of was that Soul definitely had a talent for cooking.
The mushroom soup he made her was absolutely delicious, and that was his first attempt at it. Prodigies were real, it looked like. She had never made a soup that delicious despite having followed the same recipe down to a T. Maka tried to hide her jealousy as he collected her empty bowl while whistling, completely unaware of her grudge.
The boy started to wash the dishes while absent-mindedly humming the same foreign melody he always whistled. Seeing that was somehow nonplussing. Something about seeing his back just bugged Maka so much.
Maybe because he hadn't worn his shirt.
Yet she knew her actual reason was not because stupid things like embarrassment from seeing a boy's body, but because of how seemingly fine he was not. She had to tear her attention away from his bandages, lest her guilt creep and drown her again. It also didn't help that she could see numerous scars on him, with some obviously shaped like surgical wounds.
Needless to say, her mind flew back to the partially complete circles in her library. It was unknown what prompted her, but she opened her mouth and called, "Soul?"
He twisted his head at her, placing the last plate on the drying rack. "Yeah?"
"Sit down," she implored. "Please."
Drying his hands on a hand towel, he walked closer and sat on the chair in front of her, giving her a questioning and a slightly worried look. "What's wrong? You okay?"
Maka couldn't help her weary smile. This boy, really. "Yeah, I'm okay," she started, but after a long pause and many shaky breaths, she corrected herself, "...Or not so much."
His frown deepened, as if saying 'I knew it.' Exhaling a breath, he mumbled, "I know you've been acting weird."
As if being caught, her fingers did a little twitch. But Maka feigned innocence and bit her lower lip. "I need to ask you something."
"Go on," he answered almost automatically.
She struggled to form her words. Most of her brain was still against telling him. Soul's cries when he lost his mind in that broken church were back in her ears, and she felt horrible for trying to take his freedom away.
"Just spill it, Maka," he pushed gently, nudging her hand on the table, and she pursed her lips into an anxious flat line.
"The thing is…" she finally mumbled, "I found something… In that music box, I mean…"
Soul didn't make any reaction except for slightly pulling his fist away.
"I think this can help you. To help you maintain your health at least." Maka started her long explanation about the theories and the system behind the bonding circles. He was silent the entire time, so Maka soldiered on, "By bonding us via alkahestry, I could wield you as my weapon without you doing any transmutation yourself, so you could maintain your Blood's energy longer. And—and my alkahestry could help you restore the amount of iron in your body bit by bit. I know this is not precisely a way to fix you, but at least, it could help in the long run, and you could—technically you could still protect me… By being my weapon, I mean… You've seen yourself how—how strong we got when I wielded you so…"
"So basically you're stuck with me," he interrupted her. "Forever."
Maka stopped and raised her eyes to see him making a displeased face. Of course. Of course he wouldn't like it. And frankly, who would? It was one thing to swear an oath out of his own will, but it was a totally different thing to tie him up with an artificial chain.
Despite his strange devotion and vow, Soul had never stated he would go with her forever. No matter what he said, his first and foremost reason was because of her Mama's extended request. He was by no means obligated to be with her forever.
"I want to help you," was all she said.
"But you will be stuck with me," he repeated. "Forever."
"I'm willing to, if you're willing to," Maka replied, looking him in the eyes.
Something that was certainly the opposite of willingness radiated from his entire body, and Maka felt something in her heart crumble.
"Just… Just think about it…" she nearly begged. Honestly, she didn't know which answer she'd prefer. But nonetheless. "I'll just… keep working on the circles and you… you think about it. Please."
He didn't give any answer besides an unreadable emotion displayed sternly on his face.
Frank stared at his lab partner with incredulity.
"I thought we've established that we're devoting our lives to science, Kamiko. Not sorcery."
Kamiko's stern face didn't waver. "You of all people should believe that this is not sorcery."
Frank replied, "Yeah, maybe it's not sorcery, but the impossibility level stays the same."
Kamiko's black eyes drilled into his. His left one. "Really?"
For once, Frank's skepticism trembled. His lab partner was stubborn and was often known for her out-of-the-box thinking, but she was never one to believe in superstition or sorcery. It's never magic, she always said, human brains just can't understand it yet. That meant she had found scientific proof to be able to believe the impossible.
"Why are you doing this? We both know too well the consequences if we step into God's domain," Frank inquired. Lights bounced off his glasses to his eyes, making one shine and the other dull.
"Do I need a reason to rid the world of harm?" she challenged. But Frank just scoffed.
"Stop your acting. You never care about the world." Which was a true statement, no matter how much praise and worship were sung about Kamiko's noble nature. Maybe that was why they could be such an effective team. She was the only one who could match his cynicism.
She made a little cold smile. "Maybe I didn't. But I do have people I want to protect."
At this, Frank softened. "Maka?"
"I'm just trying to make her a safer place to call home, since I can't take her anywhere," Kamiko muttered lowly. "Take care of her, Frank."
He dodged the request. "What about Spirit?"
Kamiko's face instantly went from pleading to intense displeasure. "Spirit just doesn't understand! He just can't comprehend that I have to do this! "
Again, Frank refused to comment by agreeing to her earlier request. "I'll take care of her."
Kamiko didn't say thanks. Both of them had never. She just smoothed her face back into its usual coldness and replied, "I'll hold your words."
Inhaling through his cigarette, Frank muttered, "So what about the homunculus again?"
She opened her mouth, but instead of explaining, she called his name.
"Frank!"
But that was definitely not Kamiko's voice.
"Frank, come on! Stop sleeping with your eyes open!"
Frank's eyes focused, bringing him out of daydream land and back into the present. He was, apparently, still at his library, in his chair, in the same position he was an hour ago, and Marie was currently pouting at him, both hands on her hips. He hadn't even heard her come in.
"Good evening, Marie," he rasped, ignoring the urge to rub his eyes.
"It's 8.30 AM." She let out a disbelieving huff. "Seriously, Frank, you need to have a decent sleep schedule!"
As always, Frank ignored her concerns. He was more suited to be a nocturnal creature anyway. "Why're you here?"
She was in her military uniform, which implied she was not off duty and she didn't visit him for fun. Marie sighed, "If I don't know you as well as I do, I'd say you're displeased to see your own girlfriend."
Her mouth did a little pout that put a smirk on Frank's face. The way she expressed her emotion through an entire body language was always amusing to observe.
Receiving no answer, Marie huffed and put a document in front of him. "From Kristopher."
Frank almost immediately reached for it and tore through the papers like a child tearing the wrappers of their Christmas presents. It was, apparently, a complete report about the document Maka had worked out of Kamiko's music box.
"What is it, Frank?" Marie asked, leaning into him. But instead of answering, he hastily pulled a sheet of paper out of his drawer, which had nothing on it except for two things: the word 'homunculus' and the letter 'M.'
It would mean nothing if not for the fact that it was the last code slipped inside the music sheet Spirit had brought some weeks before.
A glimpse of something flashed through Frank's face, a touch too disturbing to be called astonishment.
"You found them after all, didn't you, Kamiko?"
"Stay still, Eruka," Pride purred.
The chimera woman strapped onto the gurney did everything but stay still, however, and Pride gave her a displeased look. She didn't like test subjects that kept trashing about.
"Medusa! No, no! Please! Please! I beg you, no!"
Pride's lips turned upwards, her voice comparable to a mother's lullaby. "But why, Eruka? With this, you can be an immortal too."
But the chimera shook her head violently. "I don't want it! I DON'T WANT IT!"
Her trashing nearly shoved the vial out of Pride's hands, and Pride's face turned from a benevolent smile into a dark calmness.
Enough.
Quicker than a heartbeat, Pride's shadows stood alive, surrounding them like a dark and menacing tent. Two arrows slithered up to Eruka's body, and Pride watched with amusement when they pulled Eruka's jaw open with a resounding crack, accompanied by the chimera woman's hysteric shriek.
"That's better," commented Pride.
She took out the vial again, and slowly poured the single drop of red liquid inside it into Eruka's mouth.
The hysteric shrieking became borderline unhinged almost immediately, filling the room with deranged echoes as the woman's body kept deconstructing and reconstructing. Pride smiled as she stroked the screaming woman's forehead gently. Ah. What a totally beautiful sound.
Soon, the cries died down, replaced by choked gasps and hard breathing. It was then when frantic steps echoed from behind her, followed by an angry yell:
"YOU GAVE YOUR STONE TO HER?!" thundered Nars Garnier. "I ASKED YOU FOR IT SO MANY TIMES, AND YOU DECLINED! YET YOU GAVE IT TO TRASH LIKE THIS THING?!" The alchemist pointed at the choking chimera on the gurney with fury.
"HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! YOU KNOW EVERYTHING I DID FOR US! FOR YOU! YOU KNOW I DESERVE IT!" he continued his accusations.
Instead of giving him attention, Pride turned without care to see two of her shadow snakes slithering up to her. She spread her arms and let the snakes climb onto each of them, then shut her eyes as they hissed into her ears.
Oh?
Pride let out an intrigued hum. The Little Grigori and the Little Reaper had almost known all about her plan. She chuckled. Good for them.
"LISTEN TO ME YOU LOWLY HOMUNCULUS! I WILL—"
The angry alchemist's irritating tirade was instantly snapped shut by a giant mouth made from Pride's shadow.
She should've done this a long time ago. Keeping the man alive was certainly far too much work. She should've just consumed the man, keeping all of his knowledge to herself.
Ah. Now it was quiet.
Pride stared at the unmoving Eruka. Those little kids may have found out about her plans, but there was nothing they could do to stop them. Her back-up was set, and she was beyond ecstatic.
Her eyes trailed along the two serpents tattooed on each of her arms.
She was not born with an Ouroboros tattoo like her siblings. She was not born as a part of the cycle of souls. Instead of a serpent eating their own tail, she had serpents encircling the length or her arms.
She was not meant to be a part of the circle. She was meant to hold the circle.
She was born to be the highest.
Three shadow snakes branched out of her shadow before releasing themselves, slithering to three different directions.
It would be her time soon. The niceties were over. It was time to remind everyone she still had fangs. With venom.
Soul had wondered about it multiple times, but he really thought that Wes would probably be as delighted as him if he had been given the chance to learn an instrument.
Something told him Wes wouldn't choose a piano. Maybe something like a stringed instrument.
Like a violin. Yeah, it would fit him.
It was delighting to think about a piece and imagine they could play it together.
'Well, you have to learn some alchemy and transmute him out of his grave first.'
Soul's fingers stopped, hovering above the piano keys as he closed his eyes and exhaled a heavy breath. As always, his Demon was really charming. He breathed again. Slowly. Remember, remember. The Art of Not Giving A Fuck.
To distract himself from the endearing comments of his Demon, Soul started to hum Wes's song and tried to translate it into a piano piece.
"Soul."
He tore his attention away from the piano keys and his brain's stupid freeloader to find Maka standing beside him with an expectant face.
"Hmm?"
She pursed her lips and made a motion that was suspiciously close to squirming. Soul raised a brow. She'd been acting weird—both of them had, because Soul admitted he was kinda wary of her whenever she gave a signal of wanting to talk—since she found out about the truth of his ability, and they got even weirder since her proposal in her kitchen. But he had an inkling that this was something totally different.
"Could you… umm, follow me for a sec?" she mumbled while staring intently at one particular spot on the upright piano.
His bizarre meter kept going up. He might be imagining her blush. "Uh, where?"
"Just—just follow me!" she squeaked. Without warning, she yanked him standing by his wrist and started pulling him out of the house. "I—um, I wanna give you something. I promise you will like this," was all she said when he fruitlessly tried to coax a definite answer out of her.
When they arrived at the front yard, all confusion and puzzlement flew apart from his brain, because one impossibly gorgeous motorcycle that was parked handsomely on the pavement stole all of his attention.
"Whoa, what the—!" Soul gawked at the shiny monstrosity in front of them. "What is this?!"
Now seeing his reaction, Maka didn't even bother to hide her grin. "Your new motorcycle!"
He stared at her like she was the sun. "Who are you and what have you done to Maka?"
"Say that one more time and I'll transmute this thing into a tricycle with tassels."
Still grinning dumbly, Soul chuckled, "No, honestly, what happened? I thought you hated them!"
There was a tint on her cheekbones that might or might not be a reflection of the bike's red paint. "But you like them. And it could be more convenient when we travel."
"Did I unknowingly decipher all of your documents in my sleep?" he mumbled in astonishment.
"You kinda did," she laughed. "It's my gratitude to you for helping me decipher Mama's code. And—and for saving my life," she added with a slightly tinier voice, speaking to her shoes.
Soul's face changed to a serious frown, disagreeing, "Maka, I promised to protect you."
"I know."
"You don't have to—"
"I wanted to."
"But this thing must cost you a lot."
"True."
"Then I have to—"
"Shut up, Soul," Maka interrupted, shoving the key to his hand. "It's yours now."
Soul had forgotten when was the last time he felt this ecstatic. He felt like he could kiss her. Only a figure of speech, of course. Sort of. He looked at her dazedly as she gave him the biggest smile. This was the coolest thing he had ever seen. And it was his? Fuck, he was too happy, even his insides were fluttering as if they were made of butterflies. It took everything in him to not jump to her side and shower her with kisses and hugs.
Okay, since when had he become so clingy?
'Gross.'
'Figure of speech, dammit.'
To distract his thoughts from any sort of clinginess, he decided to adore his new ride closer. Black dominated the bike's color, but there were very cool orange patterns zig-zagged on each side. It was a painfully beautiful thing. He could cry.
It was when he turned to caress the handlebar that he heard a very tiny voice:
"You'll look pretty cool riding it."
He spun back to see a very red Maka stammering away. "O-okay then, enjoy your new ride. I'll just go back to—to the library, yeah… Must go back to work, so—"
She was stopped by his hand on her wrist. Soul couldn't help the toothy grin as he pulled her closer, insinuating, "Hey, Maka, I know a better way to spend your evening."
"Maka?"
Maka yelled over the loud engine, "Yeah?"
"Why is there a cat on my new bike, again?"
A tiny head full of fur popped between her and Soul, answering his question with a mischievous meow. Maka giggled, "Apparently Blair declared that your new bike is a worthy ride for the Queen of Underworld."
"Of course she did," Soul made a loud scoffing noise, but his bike's roar drowned it.
They were gliding across Gallows Hill's quiet roads on high speed and Maka was beyond ecstatic. Frankly, she had fallen in love with the adrenaline rush brought by the bike's speed. She wanted to stand on the passenger seat, hands propped on Soul's shoulders, and just scream her excitement to the wind, but she thought having her hands hugging Soul's middle was also acceptable. Very acceptable, if she was being honest. So she kept sitting like a good girl.
Most of her wondered why Mama was so against this thing, because it was beyond amazing. This was definitely far more superior than trains.
She wouldn't tell Soul all of that, though.
Soul took them into the less familiar roads of the town, where there were no inhabited houses for miles and no soul floated around them. He skidded to a stop before the old remains of what used to be Gallows Hill's watchtower; one of the few buildings their town had as a reminder of the wartimes.
Blair was the first to jump off the bike and strutted all over the ruins as if she owned the place, but Soul was apparently as confident when he led her stepping into the ruins and climbing the old watchtower.
"You've been here before?"
He gave her a toothy grin. "Had to go somewhere to make sure I could drive just fine."
She just replied with an acknowledging hum. Her feet almost slipped on the tower's moss-covered stairs, but Soul swiftly caught her arms.
"Careful," he mumbled, and then he silently offered a hand.
Maka denied her blush. They had held hands many times before. She shouldn't feel embarrassed. So she took his hands and they resumed their climbing.
Blair was already there when they arrived at the top of the watchtower. Of course. She meowed at them as if asking what took them so long. Maka rolled her eyes at her pet. Sometimes the cat was just too smug.
Okay, oftentimes.
Soul successfully ignored Blair's antics, however, having already picked a nice spot to sit at the edge of a ruined windowsill, then motioned for her to do the same. Maka followed his example and plopped down beside him.
The grand scenery presented before her made her suck a sharp breath while Soul wore a triumphant smirk, seemed so proud to be able to astonish her.
The entire of Gallows Hill's little town was visible underneath them, the rural areas and the dark forests around the hill framing the picture astoundingly. The sky was still light when they entered the watchtower, but now it had turned completely dark, presenting the Milky Way above the town in all its glory.
It was just beyond breathtaking.
"How come I've never known about this place?! I've lived here since birth!" she shouted.
Soul chortled, "That's what happens when you barricade yourself within bookshelves for all your life."
She kicked his leg and his chuckles doubled. Blair had scooted closer and closer for the past five minutes, and now she finally invaded Maka's lap, stretching her body and yawning cutely. Maka stroked her fluffy back.
"Thanks for bringing me here, Soul! This is so beautiful!"
He dipped his head down, seeming a little bashful. "You need a break once in a while," he told her.
Maka couldn't help her smile. Ah yes. He was indeed such a gentle soul.
She wanted to reach his head and ruffle his hair, but she refrained the urge, diverting her impulse to pet Blair instead.
Soul shifted his position, now letting his feet dangle off the edge of the building. He started to hum his usual foreign song—something he seemed to do absent-mindedly, and Maka felt so mesmerized by how ethereal he looked under the winter stars.
"Soul," said her voice. She didn't know what came into her. It was a spur of the moment, but seeing him like that brought an intense urge inside her; to keep that beautiful picture of a boy humming under a starry sky at her side forever.
He turned at her with a questioning look, something deep flashing on his eyes, but not that Maka had the calmness to see that. Her blood rush was like a raging river as she said her request with a surprisingly even tone:
"Let me be your meister."
Soul was generally very content with his current situation.
He now owned a ridiculously cool bike, was currently seeing a ridiculously breathtaking scenery, and had a ridiculously pretty girl sitting beside him.
Uh. Okay, maybe he should have edited his last thought out of his head, because he didn't want to imply that they were on a date or something like that. He felt that it was inappropriate to ask a filthy-rich genius girl out on a date after she bought him a bike.
So he just distracted himself by imagining how Wes would react if he was here with him. His life had been so surreal these past five months, and part of him was aching to tell Wes everything. He'd gone back to Amestris. He'd gone to Mrs. Kamiko's house. He'd even visited her grave. And most importantly, he had met Maka.
The little faceless girl. Who wasn't little nor faceless anymore.
Wes would be beyond ecstatic, he guessed. Maybe would marvel in the prospect of having a little sister to dote on, like Soul had thought since many a year ago in the darker lifetime. But weirdly, he wasn't as put off by the thought as he was before. Rather, he thought both of them would have the same feelings of wanting to protect and cherish Maka, somehow.
"She's impossible to not adore, you will see when you meet her!"
Soul inwardly waved off the echo of Mrs. Kamiko's voice. He was pretty sure he wasn't on the adore level. Maka was just so likable because of her kind nature, no matter how violent or bratty she might come off. In his mind, she was the same creature as Mrs. Kamiko.
A savior.
Yeah.
He was pretty sure Wes would agree.
Thinking about Wes made Soul unknowingly hum his song again, as always.
As he stared at the star Wezen among the Canis Major, he dearly hoped Wes knew how much he missed him.
"Soul."
Maka's voice snapped him back to earth. He turned to find her looking at him with a strange determined expression. The back of his mind tried to tell him that this wasn't something he would like, but he couldn't say anything. The intensity of her eyes locked him in place.
"Let me be your meister."
Two things happened inside him. One, his entire body felt stabbed by those words. And two, his Demon condescendingly scoffed with a triumphant tone.
'What did I say? She just wants to own you. She doesn't care about someone like you at all, boy. She just wants a weapon that could strengthen her power. All of her tears, her words, all of them were just lies!'
But unfortunately for the Demon, the scaldingly painful feeling in his heart was stronger. Far stronger. It numbed him out of everything except the vast green of her eyes.
He knew how painfully kind this girl was. He knew that her choice to wield him was because she wanted to help him. That she just wanted to fix him.
She was just like that. So ridiculously kind. Even kinder than her mother.
But still. He didn't want this.
He wanted to protect her. All of her. He didn't want to be her burden. He wanted to be her sword and shield, not a chain to tie her down.
This was his greatest reason for avoiding her request. Being his meister would give her a new responsibility. Or a liability, more precisely. Having him with her would mean she wouldn't be as free. She was a State Alchemist. A brilliant one. She was supposed to spread her wings and get all the acknowledgements she deserved. But that was hardly possible if she had an Ishvalan chained to her side.
Furthermore, what if she found a person she wanted to be with? What if she wanted to start a new family?
He would be there. Forever a weight to hold her back.
He couldn't make her do that. He wouldn't.
So he steeled himself and firmly stated, "No."
Her eyes dulled into a more somber shade, and Soul hated himself for causing that. But it had to be done.
"Soul, please…"
"I can't make you do this, Maka. I won't let you be chained to me forever. I can't…" he pleaded.
Part of him expected her to explode into an outburst, but in reverse, she dipped her face low and started to tremble, as if forcing herself to stay composed.
"I know you don't want someone like me tied to you. I know I—I'm not a nice person. I'm stubborn, and I'm—I'm violent… impulsive… and I'm boring… But… But I want to help you, Soul. I want to fix you… I know I'm not someone you'd want to spend a lifetime with but… I want to fix you..."
Soul's mind spiraled into confusion. "Wait—what? No! I… When did I say that I don't like the idea of—of being tied to you! That is just ridiculous! The reason I don't want to do this is that I don't want you to be burdened by me! You're—you're definitely not the reason I—urgh…"
She blinked at him, completely perplexed, but Soul was in too much exasperation to notice. How could she think that she was the problem here? For someone so smart, she was so dumb. Couldn't she see that he would literally be beyond euphoric if he was told he could be at her side forever?
He ran his fingers through his hair. His frustration made his voice rise. "It's me! I'm the problem! I'm an Ishvalan and a human weapon, Maka! I have wicked blood and my mind is always an inch away from insanity—I… I'm literally someone you would mind to spend a lifetime with! You never were! I don't mind spending forever by your side—uh… I mean..." he trailed off, stopping dead, immediately berating himself for blabbering especially dumb things.
God. When would he learn to not be gross and just speak like a normal human being?
But Maka paid no attention to his embarrassing words (he had no idea whether to be glad or disappointed, but he chose to not think about it further), and immediately frowned. "I already said it, Soul. Multiple times. You're not a weapon. You're a person. A good person. And you're worth it! You deserve to be happy!" she insisted.
"I'm…" he was at a loss for words. Sometimes she was just so fucking stubborn; even more so than her mother. He just wanted to help her make a sane decision here, for god's sake! "You… you deserve to be happy too, Maka. Like you said, being bonded with me would mean you would have to stay with me forever! You—you can't do that to yourself! I'm just… I'm a stranger, Maka! I—"
"A stranger who had almost sacrificed his life to save me," she interrupted. "Listen, Soul, I am twenty years old. I might not look like it but I've traveled to many places and met many people. I'm perfectly capable of making my own decision. And I decided that I would help you."
She placed her hands on his chest like how she did in BJ's inn, and exactly like that time, Soul prayed she didn't realize his quickening heart rate or his sharp intake of breath.
"Your soul is so pure," she repeated the same words from that time. "You are a very kind person, but your concern is always so ridiculous. I had never thought that you are a burden. Well... Maybe when we first met but—but now, you're the furthest thing from a burden. You're someone worth saving. You're someone I want to save. I want to be your meister."
Soul gawked at her as if she was an angel who descended to earth to care and nurse a wounded, ugly, and grotesque hound with her bare hands. Which was not far from the truth.
"But, Maka, I'm—"
"You've let me be your emotional support. Now let me take it a step further," she cut him off again. Leaning in, she fixed her impossibly green eyes at his red ones and he had trouble breathing because he was just so fucking enthralled.
Her words nullified the world from his view. All he saw was green.
"I also don't mind forever if it's with you."
The existence of a person this kind and selfless was unthinkable for him. Yet here she was. Somewhere in his mind he questioned if Mrs. Kamiko knew this would happen when he met Maka. Did she know that Maka would make the choice to save him without hesitation?
Of course. Of course she had known.
Without his knowing, Maka had taken a large part of his life and made it hers.
They just knew each other for a little over five months, but all the things they experienced and all the overwhelming feelings they felt made it feel like a lifetime.
"So would you let me be your meister?" she prompted again.
This time, Soul couldn't find it in him to refuse. So, while trying his best to keep his eyes dry, he nodded.
A week later found Maka in Black Star's workshop, fidgeting as she thought about how to ask her brother for some help.
"Black Star."
Her brother twisted his body at her, a completely fake shock on his face.
"Oh my god, she actually goes out of her book nest!"
She scowled fiercely. "Shut up!"
But Maka just stood there awkwardly, not knowing how to ask him without sounding too desperate. Black Star, however, just gave her an examining look with one eyebrow rising before abandoning his work and fully turning to her. "Okay, what'd you need?"
Maka ignored the rising heat in her cheeks. Things were worse because the amount of times Maka asked Black Star for a favor could be counted on her fingers. It wasn't her fault she was a very independent girl.
Black Star just looked unimpressed. "I rephrase my question: Whose body do I need to hide?"
Maka squeaked, "What?! No! I wasn't gonna ask you that! Why would I-nevermind!"
He propped his rear on his working table and swayed a screw at her. "You look so ridiculously anxious and fidgety. I'm just making a rational conclusion."
She was just gonna open her mouth to argue, but then she reminded herself that she had more important things to do than argue with Black Star. So she schooled her face and tried again: "Black Star, you still have your tattoo kit, right?"
At this, Black Star left his joking mode and started to look piqued. "Yeah, why?"
Maka produced two papers out of her pocket and placed them beside him. Her brother opened it and sent her a questioning look. They were the complete alkahestry-alchemy circles she had finished. One for Soul and one for her.
"What's this?"
Maka dodged the question, "I need you to ink it on me and Soul."
"Yeah, but what is this?" Black Star repeated. His eyes shifted into that sharp inquiring glare he always had when demanding explanation, and Maka damned herself for being so weak against them.
So of course she started to spill everything she had cracked out of that tiny music box. She spilled all from Soul's actual condition to the vow she made to herself that she would fix him. Black Star didn't say anything and just listened in silence, something that would have made her anxious if she had the mind to worry.
"But why ink it on your palms too?" was the only question he gave her after she finished. "You can just embroider it on your gloves like you always did, right?"
Maka's eyes trailed away, body shifting slightly as she struggled to answer. "That's… because… because I want to stress my seriousness. That I take this bond as seriously as he would, you know?"
Her brother tilted his head. "No, I don't."
She sighed, irritation seeping into her tone again, "I mean I want to show how gravely serious I am with this commitment! That bond, however you see it, wasn't balanced! He has his life on the line but technically I could just walk away whenever I want to, you know? That is just unfair! I want the proof of the bond on my skin so I can show him I won't go anywhere!"
Betraying her expectation, Black Star actually smiled instead of teasing her like he would certainly do if things were less weird. "You always act so serious at the dumbest things," he told her.
Maka punched him and he dodged easily. Of course. Asshole. But when she tried to punch him again, he caught her fists and said, "You sure about this? This is a pretty big deal, y'know?" He had a smirk on, but his eyes said he was serious.
Maka fixed her own sharp eyes on his and replied with unshakable firmness: "Yes."
Black Star's smirk grew. "'Kay, then, gonna dig out the kit from somewhere in the basement. Hope they're still good. Haven't used it since I did Dad's tattoo a few years ago!"
He reached to ruffle her hair as she yelped, trying to weasel herself away. And that was the moment where Maka caught the strange look on his eyes: something that might be close to proudness, if she dared to guess. That made her stop without knowing.
Despite claiming that they were the other's siblings, Maka and Black Star both had difficulties speaking about feelings. They both preferred to speak through quarrels and fights. So seeing him giving her a genuine smile like a proud older brother sent a strange feeling into her gut.
The weird atmosphere was dissolved by a loud clang behind them, which was apparently caused by Blair trying to climb onto Black Star's storage shelves.
"For the love of Double Chocolate Chip Cookies, Maka, get your stupid cat out of my workshop!" Black Star yelled. Tsubaki hurried inside to inspect the noise, only to find her husband trying to banish the mischievous cat away from his precious automail spare parts.
With a meowing Blair in her arms, Maka scooted closer to the wife and whispered, "Uh, why did he swear like that?"
Tsubaki kindly explained, "He's trying to watch his language as a preparation when the little one comes."
Maka thought there was something wrong with her brother's priority, but it was so stupidly similar to the nonsense he would do, so she didn't comment.
Maka had to repeatedly tell herself to blink and school her look because she kept doing weird faces when she saw Black Star inking Soul's back.
His bandages had come off a week ago and Aunt Myra finally deemed him good enough to receive a tattoo. Maka's tattoos were finished in a session, but Soul's took longer, because while it was similar to a tribal tattoo, his design was far bigger and more complicated than hers, almost covering his entire back.
Normally, she would get the hell out of the room with a melting face when presented with a Soul in just a pair of tight black boxers (damn boy looked sinfully good in them). But she had to brave through and supervise the entire process so she could direct Black Star to do a precisely correct design. It was truly a blessing and a curse.
A blessing, because she could see what years of hard life had done to Soul. He was lean and slender in build, but under his clothes were an impressive set of packed and sturdy muscles, visibly far stronger and solid than an average man. Maybe it was because of his being a human weapon, but he was actually almost similar to Black Star despite their differing body types; they just looked simply indestructible.
A curse, because as she could see almost everything, she could also see his surgical scars clearer, with no bandages covering him anymore. She almost made a mistake by sucking a shocked breath when he took off his shirt to reveal a bold, distracting, long surgical scar that ran diagonally from his left collarbone to his right hip bone.
Thankfully, Black Star told him to lay on his stomach and blissfully rid Maka of the disturbing sight. She had suspicions that Soul had realized her souring mood, because he kept distracting her with teasings and banters the whole time.
"'Kay. We're finished for today!" Black Star announced loudly, sending Maka back to the present. "One more session and it's done!"
Maka raised her face to see Soul inspecting his back in a mirror. He poked his skin, which was still red from the needles. Then he twisted his body into a particular pose that did very interesting things to his back muscles, and Maka felt her cheeks warming.
Unfortunately, Soul caught her expression, and a red alarm went off inside Maka's brain as his lips turned into a cheeky grin. "Do I look cool?" he playfully teased, showing off his back and wiggling his eyebrows.
Ah, yes. She had forgotten that Soul could be very vexatious when he was being smug.
"Truly the essence of badassery," Maka told him with a flat tone. She wouldn't tell him that it did make him look cool.
It appeared that he wasn't fooled by her flat tone, or maybe it was just the heat on her face that had betrayed her thoughts, because Soul's grin widened as he leaned closer.
"Reeeally?"
Her irritation level climbed along with the temperature of her face. Okay. It was impertinent how a boy so amusingly shy could sometimes be this vexingly flirtatious. Maka had just decided he deserved a good punch when something made her freeze.
Oh no, he had dimples.
"Holy mother of Roasted Beef in Black Pepper Sauce! Get your disgusting smushy rom-com asses a room!" Black Star's yell filled the room, bringing to their attention the very unimpressed face her brother was making.
Maka was a shade away from blushing violently and a touch shy from connecting her fist with Black Star's face. But to her surprise, it was Soul who answered, "You do realize you make the same face to Tsubaki twenty-four-seven, right?"
"We did it with godliness!"
Without missing a beat, Soul deadpanned, "And we did it with style, now scram."
He said it without any emotion whatsoever, but there were light tints on his ears that might or might not be coming from the setting sun filtered by the window. Maka wondered if her face was also as red.
Did he really just imply what she thought it was?
Maka stopped her own thought. No. No, no, no, no, no, no. Couldn't be. This was Soul; the most nonsensical combination of an awkward feral human and a shy stray puppy imaginable.
He could be flirty, yes, but never in a thousand years would he even consider the idea of… of… of that kinda flirting. Yep. Definitely a nope.
Despite telling her brother to scram, it was Soul who did. He took her wrist and led her through the kitchen to the back field. Her expression must have given her astonishment away because Soul suddenly spouted with the blush still layering his face: "What?"
"Nothing." She stole a glance at him once before blurting, desperate to steer her thoughts away, "You just seem to be so awfully friendly with him."
He looked like he was considering his answer before shrugging. "He's a good guy."
Coming from Soul, who was generally paranoid and distrustful, that was saying something.
He was indeed (somewhat) friendly with the automail engineer. Far more so than any other people they'd met since they went back to Amestris. She knew he had built some friendships, but something told her he was somehow closer to Black Star.
She admitted she had felt a tiny bubble of worry when Soul first met her brother, because even though she knew Black Star was the farthest thing from his legacy, Soul was still an Ishvalan, and it could build an eternal wall between them.
But what she was afraid of didn't come true. Someone could even say that Black Star and Soul had known each other for years when they saw them together. Something had to have happened between them within the dreaded month she closed herself off of him, but she supposed it was a good thing, so she casted away her less than joyful thoughts and smiled.
Because after months of travelling together, Maka had discovered many layers Soul would choose when dealing with people. The outermost was to be openly aggressive and distancing himself as far as he could. The second layer was to be timidly awkward, indicating he trusted the person to some degree but was wary to socialize. The third was to casually throw sarcastic insults and snide remarks without care, sometimes accompanied with his trademark lopsided grin, indicating that he was comfortable enough to be himself and just relax.
It was not after a couple of hours later, when they were just lazing around in Black Star's sparring field as he casually taught her Ishvalan words, that Maka suddenly realized: his most genuine way to treat people, however, was to be the nervous boy who tried his best in voicing his thoughts despite his trouble in speaking; a side he'd never showed to anyone but her.
Soul had never really tried to distance himself from her since the very beginning. He outright jumped to the innermost level without hesitation.
She was his anomaly, just like he was hers.
"Excuse me, Sir, I have the report for—"
Kid stopped midway from entering Major General Albarn's office, where he found his superior having a seemingly important meeting with Major Yumi and Captain Law.
"My apology, Sir. I didn't know you were having a meeting."
The Major General lightly shook his head and nodded at him to come closer. Kid walked after giving a respectful nod to the older soldiers. On top of Major General's desk was the blueprint of a building, and Kid's red alarm went off somewhere in his head.
There was nothing betraying his surprise except for the slight widening of his eyes. "Sir, is this the location you had found together with Professor Stein?"
His superior grumbled, "Of course he told you. That asshole." But then he was back on his serious tone. "I suppose you know about this, then?" Kid nodded. "Did you tell Maka anything?"
A little confused, Kid replied, "I… didn't, Sir. Am I not supposed to?"
His superior was silent for a long while, before he finally sighed and put his fingers between his eyes. "No. You're not."
"Sir, I still think it's better to at least tell her where are we going—"
"No, Major," the General interrupted Major Yumi. The Major didn't look troubled at all, nor did she radiate an air of argument, but her cold eyes told Kid she certainly wanted to. Major General Albarn dictated, "The decision to tell my daughter is mine. I forbid all of you to say anything."
His unsettling tone discouraged Kid from his initial purpose. He had been wanting to tell the Major General about the city's Human Transmutation Circle, but it was as what his Professor said: the chance for him to listen was fairly low. His Professor had warned against telling General Albarn outright. At least not without a proper proof and a counter-plan, or to tell it in a way that made it impossible to be ignored.
Because when he had a goal set in front of him, Spirit Albarn wouldn't listen to anything. That was a troublesome trait he shared with his daughter.
Kid had hoped he could somehow get his superior to believe this, but compared to the exact location and date the Major General had, Kid had no actual proof that the circle really existed.
So instead of telling his superior about his disturbing finding, Kid asked, "Do you plan to go at the 21st after all, Sir? To raid the place?"
"Yeah." The Major General nodded. "You are to stay here in the headquarters. You and your entire team. If something happens, you protect Maka from the military. Do you understand, Colonel Morton?"
Kid tensed, but he flawlessly managed to reply, "Yes, Sir."
Well, this wasn't the first time he planned to disobey a direct order.
"You ready to try a resonance?"
Soul stopped midway from slurping his chicken soup straight from his bowl. "Wha—?" he replied smartfully.
Maka leaned closer. "I think I've gotten the hang of my new circles. So, wanna try to do a resonance? You know, like… like the last time I wielded you in your full weapon form?"
Soul set his bowl down and pulled his mouth into a flat line. "Uh… It's up to you? I mean, you're the meister."
Black Star had completed Soul's tattoo a few days ago, but Maka had insisted she should properly master her new circle first before she tried to transmute Soul. This was a big deal. There was no room for mistakes, since what she would transmute was a human being. She absolutely didn't want to accidentally hurt him.
But now she was confident.
"I'm your meister, but I'm not your master or anything, Soul. You have as much say in this bond as I do," Maka affirmed.
He made that one toothache grin again. This boy really had to work on his inferiority complex, seriously.
"Shouldn't we wait for Kilik to come back, though? I mean… he definitely wants to report this to the Reaper Colonel."
Maka just shrugged. "We could just do it again in front of Kid himself. I don't know where Kilik's going or even when he would come back. Seriously, I thought he was stationed here to be my bodyguard," she grumbled to herself. "But anyway, how about we try it now?"
Soul's face became a little bit paler. "Like… Right now?"
She threw him a flat glare. "You think?"
But when she caught his uneasy expression, Maka softened. "Soul, it'll be okay. I trained so hard for this. You trust me, right?"
He twisted his face into a complex frown. "I do but… I just…" He scrutinized his almost empty bowl of soup, muttering, "What if a rebound happens?"
Maka exhaled. The same dreaded thought had invaded her mind many times too, but if she was going to be his emotional support, she couldn't let a little fear get to her.
She leaned forward and took his fist in her hands, eternally grateful that the absurd awkwardness she had before had disappeared to the devil knew where.
"I won't let it happen. And if it does, I fully trust you to reverse the alchemy flow. You're perfectly capable of it with that circle on your back. Okay?"
His face was still full of uncertainty, but he nodded anyway, staring blankly at their joined hands.
So ten minutes later they went out of the back door to Black Star's sparring field, hand in hand, walking slowly as they breathed in the cold air.
They stopped in the middle of the field, and Maka stepped in front of him, still holding his hands. She lifted her face to find his composed expression, but she knew his soul was vibrating with the combination of anticipation and anxiety.
"Let it flow through you, okay?" she directed. And when he nodded, she activated her alkahestry circles.
Bright green angel wings sparked around them, enveloping Soul in their lights. In one breathtaking second, it looked as if the wings were his. But sadly, Maka didn't get enough time to admire the gorgeous sight, because in another second, he already landed on her hands as a scythe.
The last time she held his scythe form in her hands, she was too busy trying to stay alive to properly admire it. But now, seeing his scythe form in all its glory under the bright sunlight, she couldn't help but to suck a sharp breath. It might be a tool for harming people, but it was still truly a breathtaking piece of art. The alchemical carving on his jet-black steel shaft made it look like an ancient and sacred weapon.
She caressed his blade, one finger trailing along the inscription.
'Ün moz gæmxileche, zŏl tte sena xærula, sena hostia, ain parculæs ssargul un Troxas Praim.' [1]
'I am a weapon, made of blood, of souls, in an eternal cycle of Tria Prima.'
The same phrase was inked on his back and her palms.
It was the dead Xerxesian language. Maka was lucky Mama had taught her, saying that it was an important language from a forgotten branch of alchemy.
She smiled in irony. Who was she kidding? Mama certainly had taught her on purpose.
"You ready, Soul?"
"Of course."
It was like she was melting into the Dragon Path itself.
Even when she closed her eyes, she could still see everything. Well, not quite 'see,' but 'sensed,' she guessed. The protons of every atom were sending information through the Path. Every shape—every matter and molecule—was clear to her. She could tell that Black Star was screwing two automail parts together inside his workshop, or that Blair was licking her paw on the second floor. If she concentrated further, she could even differentiate oxygen and carbon dioxide that were mingling in the winter air.
With a flick of Soul's blade, she experimented to change the focus away from physical matter to the souls, feeling the imaginary sphere of her perception exploding a thousand times bigger.
For the love of Philosopher's Stone.
It was beyond incredible.
She closed her eyes again, this time seeing thousands of floating blue spheres in the dark instead of the hazy shapes of the Dragon Path. There were buzzing little souls in the foliage around them, maybe little rabbits or squirrels that deemed it unnecessary to hibernate in Gallows Hill's snowless winter. But soon she started to focus on the human souls she knew well.
The closest one, of course, was Soul's unique double-soul. He was the brightest, which she deduced was because they were linked. Grinning, she found herself pleased with the fact.
The next was an obnoxious star-shaped soul—unmistakably Black Star (Maka was still puzzled on how a soul could be obnoxious), then Sid's strong and diligent one, and Tsubaki's gentle tosca-colored sphere (Maka's heart warmed when she noticed a tiny tosca and star-shaped soul next to Tsu's). Even further, Maka recognized Aunt Myra, hard at work in their tiny hospital town.
She continued to explore further, town by town, city by city, enjoying herself.
At some point, she sensed a sharp—and rather insane—soul, definitely Professor Stein's. Miss Marie's bubbly soul was next to him.
Fascinated, a gasp left her mouth when she recognized Kid's entire team. No way! She could sense as far as East City?! Her excited giggles earned an unspoken question from the scythe in her hands. There was her Papa's soul, not too far away from a stern blue sphere that Maka was sure belonged to Miss Azusa. Chuckling, she continued to comb East City, mesmerized by the amount of blue spheres in the urban area. It was a sea of blue light.
But wait—there was a single green soul.
Deep inside East City's water tunnel, there was a green soul.
Sometimes, Maka would sense a tosca soul, like Tsubaki's or her brother Masamune's, but never—definitely never a green soul. Within dozens of places she'd traveled in twenty years of her life, there were only two green souls Maka had ever sensed. One was her own, and the other belonged to the disfigured body they'd buried under the name of Kamiko Albarn.
It was impossible.
But there was no doubt about it. There was no way she could mistake that soul.
It was her.
Leto, Ishvala… it was her.
"Maka?" Soul was already landing on his feet as human, hovering over her worriedly. "Maka, what's wrong?"
"I sensed her…" she heard herself whisper, her hands grabbing his arms in distress. "Soul… I sensed Mama…"
Soul's eyes widened as she sank into the ground.
In the faraway bush, a snake-shaped shadow slithered away from them to the direction of East City.
Footnotes:
[1] Yes, I bullshitted this phrase.