Noun; the walking of ghosts. A haunting.
Sleep rips away from Maka like a scab pulled off too soon and she wakes up with a jolt, heart in her throat. The pounding echoes in her ears as she takes short and shallow breaths, her heart rate gradually slowing. Staring up at the ceiling, she traces the dream still lingering in the back of her mind.
There isn't much that she remembers of it and what she does is unremarkable-a vast world of unending darkness. Still, the feeling that she's dreamed of this place before - that it was the same place that she saw Soul - is unshakable.
Inhaling deeply, she gives a shake of her head. Soul hadn't been in her dream, and all she had done was float in the darkness. Maka exhales, but at the same time, it hadn't felt like she was alone. There'd been the feeling of souls all around her, invisible but the rhythm of their song alive in her fingertips.
A sigh escapes from her lips; there is little sense in trying to unravel dreams, even if they repeat themselves. The room is still dark so she rolls on her side, trying to find sleep again, but any tiredness has vanished, leaving a prickly awareness crawling under her skin. Clenching her teeth, Maka screws closed her eyes for a moment, then she sits up and reaches for her phone.
It's a little past four, the screen informs her, long enough to overthink the meeting with her mother several times over, but too early to get ready. She flops back on her pillow, blowing out a frustrated breath. The breakfast with her mother today will be the first time they'll be alone together since the day she went into the Rift; Spirit had been there every time her mother visited her since then and the prospect of talking to her without anyone else there to break the silence when the conversation dies awakens the nerves lying dormant in her stomach.
Pulling her pillow over her head, Maka waits for the barrage of thoughts to slow and then she tries to reason through her anxiety. If the conversation dries up, then at least there will be food to turn to, and if the mood stales, she can excuse herself after breakfast. She reminds herself of her father's words from last night-it was better to take the chance than do nothing. Even if it hurt, she could survive it.
Her breath hitches in her throat a little as she rubs her face. She'll have to work on holding onto that thought.
With one last rub of her eyes, Maka pushes the pillow off of her and swings her legs over the side of her bed. It might be too early to get ready, but if she doesn't want her nerves to resurface, then she needs to be up and moving.
There's a chill in the air as Maka enters the forest, and she zips up the jacket she threw over her pajamas as walks down one of the trails looping shallowly into the woods before returning back to the house. She watches the sky through the gaps in the branches overhead as it slowly lightens, and listens to how the forest comes alive with the low chirps of birds rustling in their nests and nocturnal animals shuffling back to their homes to sleep.
Walking in the forest fosters a complicated peace in Maka. It was the place she had played in during her childhood and where she found refuge when her mother left while the demon and her accident had turned the forest into a place of dread, but months of reaping had dispelled her fear.
(She doesn't allow herself to think of more recent events.)
By the time she reaches the furthest point on the trail, the clear haze of dawn has dissolved completely. There is still a jumpiness in her bones as the dirt crunches underneath Maka's feet as she heads home, but at least she can breathe without feeling like there is a vice locked around her lungs. She's close to the edge of the forest when her vision turns black and the overwhelming feeling of something watching swells over.
The world snaps back in place before Maka can do more than freeze in place, though the weight of being watched remains. Her palms go clammy as she spins around in a circle and scans the forest, the acidic taste of panic rising in her mouth.
Her perception abilities are far greater than they were two years ago, she reminds herself as she scrutinizes the forest again and again, sensing no supernatural creature hiding in the trees. In her chest, her heart pounds loud enough to drown out the sounds of the forest-nothing as powerful as a demon can hide from her, and yet a scream bordering on a sob aches in her throat.
Eventually, she comes to a standstill, chest heaving as she struggles to take calming breaths and swallow back her fear. Wrapping her arms around herself, Maka breaks into a fast walk, looking over her shoulder every few seconds. Her pace does not slow until she is out of the forest and back in the house.
Terror washes over as soon as Maka closes the front door, sending spasms running down her body. The door handle bites dully into her hand as she leans against the door, forces herself to be still, and chases away the fear in her veins-this was a battle she thought she won a long time ago. Maka closes her eyes for exactly seven seconds and then she pushes herself forward, unzipping her jacket and tossing it on the couch as she heads back upstairs. It was nothing, she tells herself, and she wouldn't let fear convince her otherwise.
By the time Spirit comes down for breakfast two hours later, she's dressed and brewing coffee in the kitchen, the dishes from last night and today already on the drying rack. His eyebrows lift in surprise as he eyes the plate of eggs and bacon sitting on his placemat. "How long have you been awake?"
"Sometime past four." Maka takes a sip of the coffee she poured herself and hands him a mug before going to sit at the table. "I'm leaving in a bit."
"Early breakfast, but your mother was always an early riser too," says Spirit, still eyeing her with vague concern. "Going to Sid's diner?"
She shakes her head. "We're going to the other one by the theater. I don't think she's seen Sid or Nygus yet."
"I don't blame her." He takes a bite of bacon. "Black Star isn't too good at being subtle either."
"Yeah." She finishes off the last of her coffee-the calm she talked herself into is evaporating the longer she thinks about her mother. "I just don't want it to be a circus when I don't even know what I'm feeling."
"A wise idea." Picking up his fork, he asks, "Are you feeling better from last night?"
"I think so." Setting her cup down, Maka stifles a yawn. "How long are you going to be at the station today?"
"No overtime today." Spirit answers her unvoiced question. "Whoever was killing those people has either moved on, or kicked the bucket, hopefully," he says. "Still, not having a clue who was behind those murders doesn't leave a good taste in our mouths, or the police in Moricio, so the investigation will remain open for a while."
Nodding, she looks away to hide her relief. The idea of her father facing down the being with wings of black blood winds knots of anxiety in her chest, even though they haven't been seen or shown any sign of their presence since they attacked her in the Rift.
"Maybe they've just stopped killing people," she suggests with a shrug. "Either way, it's a good thing. There's other things you can focus on."
"Perhaps." The look on Spirit's face tells Maka that he isn't convinced, his job is what he takes pride in the most, but what matters to her is he is safe and remains that way. Losing the one constant in her life would probably take the pieces of herself that she's stitched together and grind them into dust.
The thought is enough for her stomach to threaten to upend its contents. She gets up as Spirit finishes eating, and keeps busy by putting the dishes away and going into the hallway closet to find her shoes. Spirit is draining the last of his coffee when she wanders back into the kitchen for her bag, and looks up as she swings it onto her shoulder. "Do you want a ride to the diner?"
"Thanks, but I'm going to meet Black Star afterwards," she says. "We're meeting Tsubaki out in Moricio and I'm driving."
Spirit brightens. "Is she done with finals already?"
"Her last final was on Thursday," Maka answers. "But she's helping out in her research lab so she's going to be staying at the university for a few more weeks."
She stops when she sees a shift in his expression. "What's wrong?"
"Just thinking about when you go to college next year," he says, the smile on his face turning slightly forced. "I'm not going to get to see you everyday."
Voice sticking in her throat, Maka wraps her arms around Spirit. "I'm still going to call you everyday and visit on the weekends."
"Well, that does comfort me." Spirit pats her on the back, like he used to when she couldn't sleep. "Though you're good enough to get into one of those big out-of-state schools."
"Doesn't every parent say that?" Maka straightens as she pulls away.
"Yes, but I know it," Spirit answers. He glances at his watch. "We can argue about that later; it's time for you to go."
"Sounds like a plan," she replies, adjusting her hold on her bag to dig out her keys from its depths. At first, Maka turns to go, but then she pauses and turns back around to give Spirit another hug. "I love you, Papa."
Both of Spirit's arms go around her this time. "I love you too."
The parking lot to the restaurant is empty when Maka arrives, pulling into a corner. A ball of anxious dread drops and coils in her gut until she looks at the clock and realizes she arrived twenty minutes early.
She whittles away the time glancing at the parking lot entrance as it slowly fills up, and checking her reflection in the rearview mirror, sweeping her hair behind her shoulder only to bring it forward again.
However, when her mother's silver car turns into the lot, pulls into a parking spot, and her mother steps out and walks into the restaurant, Maka finds herself frozen. Minutes pass and still she sits in the truck, one hand on the door handle and the other pinching the key in the ignition. Licking her lips, she hesitates, gaze moving to the restaurant and then to the road.
It becomes a very lonely way to live.
Leaning her head back against the seat, Maka yanks the key from the ignition, and after another moment, she exits the truck.
Her mother spots her as soon as Maka enters the restaurant and waves. The walk across the diner simultaneously expands into an eternity and contracts into an instant, too long to hold her mother's gaze and too short to look away. It doesn't get any better when Maka reaches the booth, far too compact to be comfortable, and pauses awkwardly before shimmying her way on the bench without her knees knocking into Kami's.
"How are you doing?" her mother asks as she pushes a menu towards her. "I called you yesterday, but you didn't pick up."
"I was busy." Briefly, she looks at a point just to the side of her mother's head as she speaks and then she flips open the menu. She doesn't mean for her words to come out in a mumble, or to make apparent the undercutting anger she can't quite let go of, but it's what her mother pulls out of her.
"College applications?" Kami mirrors her and tilts her head as if she is studying the menu, but Maka feels her gaze's weight on her face. "Spir-" She stops, correcting herself. "Your father told me about it."
She turns another page of the menu. "Something like that."
"Where you applying to?" There's a quiet rustle as Kami shifts in her seat. Her knees brush against Maka, who starts and presses back against the back of the booth. "I'm sure you have many options."
"I don't know where I'm going to apply." Maka glances up, unable to pretend to stare at the menu any longer, and shrugs. "Something close enough so I don't become a ghost."
It's an off-hand comment, thoughtless and empty, but the realization of how her mother will perceive it hits her instantly. Her voice sticks in her throat, but only a flash of pain flickers in Kami's eyes before she smiles. "That sounds like a good plan."
The waitress arrives then, and a grateful kind of relief fills Maka. Out of all the things she expected to feel during her breakfast with Kami, regret for hurting her was not one of them, and it leaves her wordless.
In an act of seemingly divine mercy, refills for Kami's coffee and her orange juice comes soon after the waitress takes their order, and then the food comes less than five minutes later, leaving room enough for the barest of small talk.
Maka cuts into her pancakes with an air of vicious determination, slicing them evenly into perfect triangles. A voice born from the anxiety coiling in her head berates her with a truth she can't deny or ignore: she's sinking this breakfast, moving backwards instead of forward, ruining any chance of a renewed relationship with her mother.
Drizzling syrup over her pancakes, Maka stabs a piece with her fork, stuffs it in her mouth, and summons the courage to look at her mother and try again. Lifting her head, she opens her mouth to speak, and inhales at the wrong moment, a chunk of pancake lodging itself into her throat.
Coughing furiously, she drops the fork and reaches for her glass, taking a gulp of orange juice, though it fails to do anything but make her choke worse. She catches a glimpse of Kami looking at her in alarm and she raises a hand even as her lungs start to burn, tears welling up in her eyes as she tries to regain control of her breathing.
She feels a hand forcing her head down suddenly, slapping her back hard so it dislodges the pancake enough that she can breathe. Her coughing slows gradually, the pressure of the hand disappearing from her back, and she wipes the tears from her eyes, sitting up.
"Are you all right?" Kami kneels beside Maka, peering anxiously into her eyes.
Letting out a final cough, Maka gives a bob of her head, hiccuping once. Sniffing, she sighs, not quite thinking as she says in a croaky voice, "I thought I was going to die."
"From a pancake?" Kami raises an eyebrow. "That would be an odd way to die."
Hiccuping again, Maka says, "Death by breakfast food doesn't seem so bad."
For a beat, neither she nor Kami say anything, and then they crack up at the same time, Kami bracing herself on Maka's arm as they wheeze with laughter. They laugh until other diners give them strange looks, and even after that, giggles still escape as Kami returns to her seat.
"Should we get back to breakfast?" she suggests.
"Yes." Maka swallows the last of her laughter, though her smile remains. "But I think I'll stick with the eggs."
"Tell me again," demands Black Star.
"You want me to tell you how I nearly choked on a pancake again?" Maka says. She glances at her side view mirror as she switches lanes, the rounded dome of Moricio's indoor plaza coming into view. "I thought that seemed straightforward."
"Not that," he answers impatiently, tapping his hand against his armrest. His hair is highlighter yellow today, in celebration of summer's arrival, which deepens to a gold orange in the middle of his head, giving Black Star the appearance of wearing a halo. "You're going on a vacation with your mom?"
"It's more like an overnight trip," she corrects, glancing at him from the corner of her eye, since looking at Black Star when the sun is shining on his hair is like staring into the center of a volcano. "We'll be going to Silver Canyon, staying the night, and returning the day after. It's barely a road trip, let alone a vacation."
"I thought you were angry at her," he exclaims with a stunned kind of confusion. "You told me you didn't even want to see her sometimes."
"I was," Maka says. "I am," she adds, after a pause before throwing a hand up in the air. "All I know is that I want to move on from whatever I'm feeling."
"And this trip is part of that," Black Star says. "Is that why you said yes?"
"Mostly," she answers vaguely to avoid outright lying. She can't tell anyone about the underlying reason why she agreed when Kami suggested the trip at the end of breakfast-she's not even sure if the nebulous plan floating at the edge of her mind isn't just a swift and fatal jump from the pot to the fire.
Black Star sits up as they turn into the giant parking lot surrounding the plaza. "When are you going to go?"
"The end of August, right before school starts." Maka navigates through the narrow lanes of the crowded lot, slamming on her brakes as she nearly passes an empty spot. "I hate driving in parking lots."
"Which is why I don't drive in cities."
"Other than the fact that Sid won't let you drive past the limits of Orcus Hollow?"
"That won't be true for long," he declares, opening the truck door as Maka parks and pulls the key from the ignition. "How do you think your dad is going to take the news?"
"He's been encouraging me to talk my mom, so...good, I think." She shoulders her bag before opening the door. "But a trip is a lot more than talking."
"Maybe he'll ask to come along with you." Black Star waits by the end of the truck as she closes and locks the door. "He wants you to have your family back, doesn't he?"
Swallowing hard, Maka checks the truck to make sure it's locked, tugging too hard on the handle. "Something that was broken isn't unbroken once it's put back together."
"It's still something," Black Star points out as they walk towards the plaza, his head perking up and gaze darting back and forth along the perimeter for Tsubaki, even though she had already warned them yesterday over the phone that she might be late. "It's still your family."
"Maybe," she says softly. The heat from the sun sinks into her skin, but she wraps her arms across her chest. Even if the impossible happened and her parents became the way before Kami left, it wouldn't completely fill the chasm in her chest. "We'll see."
"And you have Tsubaki and me if things get rocky," Black Star adds on. "In case you weren't aware."
The weight in Maka's chest lessens temporarily, and she smiles before lightly punching Black Star in the arm. "I know that."
Inside of the plaza, the air is cool, and the harsh light from the sun is dulled by the stained glass windows arcing across the ceiling. Gentle hums from the souls of the people moving around the plaza lobby, both living and dead, brush against Maka's perception. Meanwhile the frantic beat from the young children playing on the jungle gym of the inside playground bombards her senses, making her withdraw from fanning out her perception any further. It's unnecessary now she is no longer a reaper and there is no ghost bound to her to attract poltergeists, but she can't seem to keep herself from reaching out into the world whenever her mind drifts, a reflex born from a spark of illogical hope which refuses to extinguish itself.
Closing her eyes briefly, Maka sucks in a quiet breath. The hushed murmur of the giant waterfall fountain spanning the four floors of the plaza transports her to an earlier time, when her hand fit in her mother's and coming here with her felt like entering another world, sunlight filtering through the ceiling and glittering on the water like diamonds.
"Look!" Black Star's voice brings her back to the present. He's pointing to one of the metal and wood benches running along the base of the fountain, where Tsubaki is sitting with her back to them, dark hair standing out against the ivory walls of the plaza.
Cupping his hands together, he yells, "Tsubaki!"
She jumps, as does Maka and the others nearby, several curious people from the upper levels poking their heads over the railing as Black Star's voice reverberates all the way up to the ceiling and loudly echoes back down.
"A little overkill, don't you think?" says Maka, rolling her eyes, but Black Star has stopped paying attention, striding away and towards Tsubaki. She's right on his heels however, just as eager to see Tsubaki.
But Tsubaki doesn't seem nearly as excited to see them, making a slicing motion with her hands as she approaches. "Don't be so loud," she says to Black Star when she reaches them, words almost a hiss. The expression on her face borders between wariness and fear, hitting Maka with an intense familiarity, although she can't place it precisely. "You don't know who can hear you."
Black Star halts, mouth halfway open, like Tsubaki just slapped him. "But we're in a mall," he says, voice much smaller than Maka has ever heard him speak.
A beat passes as Tsubaki continues to stare at them with the same half-terrified expression, and then she blinks rapidly and shakes her head, as if she had woken up from a deep sleep. "I'm sorry," she says, remorse threading into her voice. "I was stuck in my thoughts; I guess I got startled and overreacted."
"You've been away from Black Star too long if you've forgotten how loud he can be," Maka says with a weak laugh to fill the awkward pause that follows, stepping up to give Tsubaki a hug while Black Star continues to eye her with a bemused expression.
"I must have been." The vestiges of Tsubaki's strained smile disappear as she returns the hug and steps back.
Finally unfreezing, Black Star folds his arms across his chest. "That didn't really seem like an overreaction," he says skeptically, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap." Tsubaki has a rare grace even in apologizing; she holds open her arms. "Forgive me?"
Huffing a sigh, Black Star moves forward, the hurt in his eyes melting away. "I'm not mad."
"Not anymore, at least." The soft laugh Tsubaki gives is real as she rests her head on his shoulder and gives him a big squeeze. However, Maka catches how the strange look on her face resurfaces when Black Star turns away.
She doesn't comment on it, watching Tsubaki discreetly as they walk to the glass elevator. The shadows exhaustion had worn underneath her eyes are gone, replaced with a healthy pallor, and the clarity and focus in her eyes that depression clouded have returned. That focus is spread thin, though, bouncing all over the place as her eyes sweeping left and right, head swiveling slightly to look over her shoulder every so often.
It's when the elevator doors open with a tiny chime and Tsubaki jumps almost imperceptibly that Maka realizes why the odd expression on her face is so familiar-it's the same mix of emotions she felt when the demon stalked her in the forest.
It's the face of someone being hunted.
There is no room to talk in the elevator, too crowded to make anything other than small talk. When they get off on the third floor, Black Star immediately launches into a million questions about Tsubaki's last quarter, peppering in stories from the past month. An odd carefulness lines his words-it's clear he hasn't forgotten how she reacted earlier, but there is something else in his expression, too, when he looks at Tsubaki.
When they reach the food court, Tsubaki stops and inhales deeply. "I had forgotten what non-dining hall food smelled like."
"I thought you said they had a range of food," says Maka, pausing in front of her.
"Yes, but eat the same cycle of meals for a year and you'll get tired of it too."
"We can eat now if you want," Black Star says as he glances over at Maka, who shrugs neutrally.
Tsubaki surges forward. "Excellent, I haven't had anything other than salads and sandwiches for the longest time."
"What do you think about what happened earlier?' Black Star mutters to Maka, who is about to answer when a cold, knifelike feeling needles into her perception. Recognition washes over her, goosebumps raising on her arms and the taste of bile rancid on her tongue. The air in the food court seems to drain away as she swivels around, breath stuck in her throat, searching for the source of the feeling.
It's not possible, she tells herself over and over, but the cold continues to seep into her perception, mixing in with the fear clamping around her heart in an iron grip. She looks left and right but rising panic keeps her from registering anything but the dread lacing around her body.
A sudden pressure on her arm causes her to jump and whirl back around, hand balled into a fist, until she catches sight of Black Star's yellow hair.
"What's wrong?" His eyes are wide, brow furrowed in concern. He gives her shoulder a slight squeeze. "What the hell happened?"
"I-" She trails off, dropping her arm. The iciness pervading her body is gone and the food court is back to normal. Looking back at Black Star, she says the first thing that comes to mind. "I thought I heard someone calling my name."
Black Star's expression is dubious. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Forcing a laugh, she presses her hands against her sides to keep them from trembling. "That would be impossible." she says. "Weren't you the one that said they were like fairy tales?"
Without waiting for him to reply, she moves into the food court, feeling his gaze trail after her. "I'm going to the same place as Tsubaki."
"Tacos are better than pizza," he calls as she walks away.
Maka runs her thumbs over her nails as she heads towards the pizza place, trying and failing to slow her racing heart. Her vision is still hazy, barely enough to keep from running into people, perception unfurling and stretching as far as it can. Denial is numbing and smothering, repeating impossible in her mind over and over.
By the time she reaches the counter, her mind has cleared a little, but her appetite has been eaten up by the adrenaline thrumming in her veins. She considers buying at least a drink, eyes the overflowing line, and loops around the line to where Tsubaki is filling her cup at the soda fountain, touching her shoulder just as Tsubaki is reaching for a lid. With a sharp intake, Tsubaki jerks away, sending soda everywhere, including on her tray and pizza.
"Sorry!" The spill pulls Maka out of her head and she reacts first, yanking several napkins from the nearby dispenser and trying to keep the spill from spreading across the counter. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"No, it's my fault." Swiftly, Tsubaki reaches over to where Maka is mopping up the spill, who feels the quake in Tsubaki's fingers as she takes the napkins away from her. "I was the one who wasn't paying attention."
Glancing at the soaked pizza, a twinge of guilt pricks at Maka. "Let me buy you lunch then."
"No." Tsubaki shakes her head rapidly. "No, it's fine, really."
Peering more closely at her, Maka frowns. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, just wound up from spending so much time in the lab, I guess." Tsubaki bunches up the napkins in her hand and tosses them into the trash can. Giving Maka a tight smile, she rubs her palms on her pants and then clasps her hands together. "So, pizza?"
She has had too much experience in weaving the appearance of being okay to not notice the loose threads in other people. For a moment, Maka hesitates and then she finds her voice. "Yeah, let's go."
Like before, however, she says nothing. The anxiousness surrounding Tsubaki is different than last time, something external rather than internal. She's not sure if the presence she sensed has anything to do with how Tsubaki is acting or if it's something else entirely, but asking her if she has seen any ghosts lately is out of the question.
Maka's fingers worry at a stray string at the bottom of her shirt as they wait for their pizza, and then pinch the ends of tray tightly when they exit the line, running through the ways she can draw out the truth from Tsubaki. She has regained her usual tranquility from what Maka can see, though there is still a slight nervousness in her eyes as they sit at an empty table in the middle of the food court.
After a few minutes of silence, Tsubaki speaks. "You haven't told me how the school year ended, or much about how you've been."
Maka barely hides her wince. The last month of school was a mix of holding herself together while being lost in her head one moment, and being too aware of everything the next. "I haven't exactly been given the chance to say much."
Giving a small laugh, Tsubaki says, "Black Star does try to stuff three months' of conversation in ten minutes."
"More like five." Plucking a pepperoni from her pizza, Maka pops it into her mouth and shrugs in an effort to appear more casual than she feels. "Nothing much has happened, other than me taking the SAT in the middle of the AP testing period and almost dying," she says without mentioning that neither fact has anything to do with the other.
"Painful," Tsubaki replies, a sympathetic smile on her lips. "You must be glad for the break."
"In a way," she answers with another shrug before taking sip of her soda. If she had heeded the DWMA's order to not look for Soul, then the long, empty hours of summer would have broken her sanity already, but being out of school means more time to search and one less place where she doesn't have to pretend there isn't a hole made of pain and grief gnawing away the inside of her chest.
The thought of mourning shifts Maka's thoughts and she glances at Tsubaki. "Do you still dream about your brother?"
Distress flickers across Tsubaki's face briefly, an echo of the strange expression from when Black Star yelled her name. Toying with the half-eaten crust of her pizza, she doesn't quite meet Maka's eyes when she answers, "They're not the same dreams, but I think I wish they were."
Frowning, she asks, "What are the dreams about now?"
"They got my order wrong twice." Black Star plunks his tray down with a clatter as he appears from nowhere and pulls out the chair next to Tsubaki. He sits down and then he looks from Maka to Tsubaki, who both jumped at his arrival. "Both of you are acting weird today."
Maka raises an eyebrow. "This is coming from someone who is trying to outdo the sun with their hair."
He acknowledges her point with a small salute of the taco in his hand. "I heard you say something about dreams before I sat down." He eyes Tsubaki. "Are the dreams bothering you again?"
"No," Tsubaki says at the same time Maka replies, "Yes."
"It's nothing," she says as she gives a rare glare to Maka.
Black Star's face, open and expressive, shutters closed. His discovery of Tsubaki's depression and sleep struggle had been an accident, a slip Tsubaki made during a video call a month ago. Awkwardness has lined their friendship since then, and it hasn't quite recovered from the discovery, although he has chosen to act like the moment never existed. It doesn't keep his stung feelings from breaking through from time to time, however.
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want," he interjects over Maka. "It's okay."
Guilt flashes in Tsubaki's eyes, her hand on the table flexing and then relaxing, like she had begun to reach out and then thought better of it. "No, it's not that, I do want to talk about it."
Some of the wariness leaches away from Black Star's expression and they both wait for Tsubaki as she clasps her hands together and opens her mouth.
"There's some-" Tsubaki breaks off. Her words are barely audible over the steady buzz of voices in the food court as she begins again. "I think someone might be following me."
Maka blinks incredulously. "You're being stalked?"
"Have you told the police?" demands Black Star.
"I said might and no, I haven't," Tsubaki answers hastily.
"Well, what makes you think otherwise?" asks Black Star, frown forming on his lips as he stares at her.
"Because it doesn't make sense." She speaks likes she's tried to convince herself with the same words a million times, but can't quite believe it. "What I'm seeing wouldn't be believable to anyone."
Ignoring the sliver of dread that slides into her stomach at Tsubaki's reply, Maka says, "Try us."
For a moment, she wavers, pressing her lips together nervously, but then Black Star touches her hand and she relaxes and takes a breath. "The first time it happened was a month ago. I was sleeping when I was woken up by a noise," she says, tapping the side of her drink with her free hand. "I thought it was my roommate at first, but it didn't sound like she was moving on her side of the room, which is when I realized that she had already left for class."
"It was this weird noise, like someone was shuffling around my bed," Tsubaki continues. "Every so often, there was this cracking sound, but it wasn't normal, it was like someone was breaking their bones over and over."
Memories of poltergeists and demons turns Maka's stomach, apprehension spreading to her chest. "What did you do?"
"I got up, but no one was there." Tsubaki's tapping increases before she abruptly pulls her hand away and runs it through her hair. A quiet kind of anxious fear has broken across her face, spilling out in the subtle quake in her words. "I ended up writing it off because I had stayed up late to study."
When she goes quiet, Maka speaks. "But?"
"Then it started happening regularly." She lets her hand fall, voice nearly a whisper. "I'd hear the noise even when I wasn't sleeping or in my room, and when I would wake up and go to class or the lab, it'd feel like someone was watching me the entire time."
Black Star exchanges a glance with Maka before asking, "Did you ever see anyone when you heard the noises?"
Tsubaki is quiet for so long that it doesn't seem like she is going to answer at all.
"Shadows," she says finally, pulling her hand away from Black Star and tangling her fingers together. "I saw shadows."
His brow furrows. "What do you mean shadows?"
"They're like puppets on strings, bending at odd angles," she answers, gaze fixed on the table, as if she'll see them if she looks up. "I see them out of the corner of my eye, they mix in with the ordinary shadows, but they follow me."
Maka, who is reaching for her drink to calm her pounding heart, feels the cup fumble in her grasp. The description is too close to the demon that nearly made her crash in the woods the day she closed the Rift, but no hint of its aura lingers on Tsubaki, nor does she have any clue why a demon would stalk her for so long without trying to hurt her.
"But it's not enough though," Tsubaki exclaims suddenly, like she's arguing with herself. "I saw a scythe in your room when we video called once," she says to Maka, looking up with an almost frenzied look in her eyes. "And that was well before I started hearing or seeing anything, so maybe I'm just losing my mind."
"You're not losing your mind." Maka's reply is automatic and a little too forceful. "If you say that's what you saw, then I believe you." Hastily, she adds, "Whatever this is, we'll deal with it."
A grateful expression washes over Tsubaki's face, and she reaches across the table to touch Maka's hand. "Thank you."
"Of course." Glancing over at Black Star, Maka is surprised to find that he's looking at her and not Tsubaki. He stares at her like he's piecing together a puzzle that he has been working on for a long time, but can't quite put the last pieces in place.
When he meets her eyes, he finally moves his gaze back to Tsubaki. "Yeah, we're with you."
Tears brim in the corners of Tsubaki's eyes, and for the first time today, her smile is genuine. "Thank you both so much."
Maka smiles back at her in spite of the knot twisting in her gut, and for the rest of the time they're at the mall and even on the drive home, she is careful not to make eye contact with Black Star for too long.
Soul stares at the overgrown grove of cocoons ahead of him and then back to Medusa. Memories hurl themselves in a sickening dance across his vision, but he refuses to show any weakness to the witch. "This doesn't belong to you."
"I'm surprised you consider your fellow souls property," the witch answers breezily as she strides past him and into the forest.
Gritting his teeth, he watches Medusa disappear into the fog drifting between the cocoons without following her. "I mean the territory."
"Oh, that." Her voice floats out from the fog, echoing too loudly for Soul to tell where she is. "The witch who presided over this area recently vacated the position and left me as successor."
"Is that your way of saying you killed her?" he mutters as he finally moves into the grove. The fog is too thick to see more than a few feet ahead, and despite the soft ground, Medusa left no footprints to follow, but he doesn't doubt the witch will let herself be found when she wants to.
"Does that bother you?" Her words sounds close in his ear, then faraway again. "You should be thanking me, you know."
His foot sinks in the sticky silk of a cocoon, a result from misjudging the distance between it and another cocoon, and he yanks on his leg as nausea sweeps up from his stomach to his throat. "I fail to see even one reason why I should do that."
"It was her soul gatherer that murdered you." Medusa's voice is simultaneously soft and razor-sharp. "And she was the one who turned you into a puppet and sealed you in that cocoon."
With a final heave, Soul finally manages to wrench his foot free from the cocoon. He stumbles, feels himself collide into something solid, and spins around to find Medusa's smiling face inches from his.
His eyes narrow. "You're all the same to me."
"Well, it is true we are soul-eating beings," Medusa says with a tilt of her head, "but did you know it takes being human to become a monster?"
A sour taste fills Soul's mouth as he straightens. "What are you talking about?"
"I think you know exactly why I'm talking about." The smile on Medusa's face grows wider. "It's why you're here, isn't it?"
Instead of answering, Soul stalks away into the mist.
Anger is enough to keep his memories at bay as he tramps away until he can no longer sense Medusa's presence. The spacing between the cocoons becomes irregular and erratic the further out he walks, cocoons sitting in disorganized clumps instead of neat rows like the spider that had been weaving and placing them lost control of itself. Some of the cocoons are completely silent as Soul passes by, while others pulse with the hum of the soul inside, enticing him to come closer.
Burying the urge before it can spread, he ignores the voice in his head warning him that it's not a smart idea to get lost in the place where giant spiders attacked him, and continues to wend his way through the grove. Being awake for so long has made him chronically irritable, and Medusa will find him anyways. He ducks underneath a cord of silk spanning between two cocoons-weeks of traveling with the witch hasn't dulled the unease squirming under his skin whenever he looks at her directly for too long, and the comments she makes leave him with the nagging feeling she can read his mind.
A familiar pain in his stomach rips Soul away from his thoughts and roots him in place, the only warning he gets before the pain forces him to double over and retch.
He vomits until his stomach is empty and aching, sprawled out on the dirt, body shaking uncontrollably in one giant spasm. An eternity passes before Soul can pull himself off the ground and into a sitting position, and another goes by as he tries to push himself onto his feet. When it feels like he might throw up again, he gives up and lays back on the ground, fishing out the small glass vial from his pocket.
Even here, the golden liquid catches the light; Soul tilts the glass and watches the potion slide from one side to another. Exhaustion stalks him like a predator when the potion's effects wear off, finding him more and more quickly; there isn't enough potion to keep him awake for another day, which means he'll have to seek out Medusa soon now that he's emptied his guts. His stomach flops unpleasantly at the thought. The daily vomiting had seemed like a small price to pay when Medusa warned him the potion couldn't stay long in his body, though he wondered how much of that was the truth and how much was a lie to keep him from disappearing from her side for too long.
His fingers tighten around the vial, and he pushes himself up and onto his feet before his body can change his mind. He waits for a few moments, relaxing when nausea doesn't overtake him, and stows the potion back in his pocket.
The victory is short-lived. Soul's foot gives way when he takes a step and he feels the world tip forward as he collapses back on the ground, a loud crunch filling the air when the glass vial breaks in his pocket and the shards dig into his leg.
Temporarily, the pain drives away the fatigue snaking around his body, but his eyes still slip closed. Soul forces them open, trying to fight away the shadows bleeding at the edges of his vision, but the dark is smothering and his energy is gone.
He pushes his hand feebly against the ground in another effort to rise before sleep takes him.