Hello again, beloved readers! First of all, I would like to thank everyone who reviewed chapter one. I received so many positive and uplifting reviews, it literally made my week. I honestly wasn't expecting such a warm reception, and each new review made me nearly giddy. I was seriously pumped and ready to write more after receiving such kind words. So, here is chapter two, lovely readers. I truly hope you enjoy it!

And to answer a reviewer, no I do not mind anonymous reviews in the least. ANY review makes me very happy!

This chapter contains some more exposition like chapter one, since there were a few more aspects of Maka's and Soul's lives that I needed to clear up. Since they are nineteen now, there is a pretty good time-lapse that I need to fill in, and I tried to get my vision of their new lives pictured clearly without spending too much time on a history lesson. XD

Disclaimer: I forgot this in chapter one. I do not own Soul Eater.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

While a lesser man probably would have popped a blood vessel by now, Soul Eater Evans was, as usual, keeping his cool. Although, 'keeping his cool' could more accurately be described as 'appearing totally collected while he inwardly wanted to punch the cutest fucking fuzzy creature he could find.'

Soul bit the inside of his cheek in an attempt to calm his racing pulse as his meister moaned again, arching under his fingers and pressing her back harder against his practiced touch. It had been another long, arduous day for the both of them at Shibusen, the deathscythe busy with mission paperwork while Maka had her hands full with her classes as usual. However, he was pleased to find that his technician seemed to have forgotten her melancholy mood from yesterday, her sure, confident fire returning to her olive gaze. Her arms had wrapped about his waist in an easy, familiar way on the ride home, and the cheek she pressed against his back sent a pleased hum through his veins. Yet, she had again complained of an intense pain in her back as they settled down after eating, her face twisting as she gingerly sat on the edge of the couch. Soul only grinned slightly as he teased her of growing old, ignoring her irritated scowl as he turned her away from him to begin a repeat performance of the day before.

Usually, this wouldn't have been a problem in the least. The weapon was hardly averse to doing things for his meister. In fact, he generally (though privately) loved to please her in nearly any way, appearing cool and collected while secretly smug in knowing just what she liked. He knew allllll the things that made her tick, becoming intimately aware of her deepest desires the countless times they had performed Soul Resonance over the years.

Today, however, was proving to be a problem indeed. She was being too damn vocal for her own good, her sighs and little moans of bliss enough to tax even Soul's cool. Holy shit, had she always sounded like this? Had he just never noticed? The weapon managed to hold in a frustrated groan as he continued to ease his meister's pain, silently cursing her every time an infuriatingly sexy sound tumbled from her lips. He wasn't used to reacting to her like this…had something changed? Abruptly, the scythe realized that, yes, something had changed, but it wasn't her. It was him. Yesterday had been a turning point for the man, and the sudden knowledge caused his hands to falter for only a moment before they resumed their skilled dance on Maka's back. The intensity of his emotions had finally pushed the awareness upon him. Soul had always been fond of his technician, of course, and he was loyal to her beyond anyone, including Shinigami-sama himself. Hell, he even knew he loved her, if he was honest with himself, but the deathscythe had always assumed it to be platonic affection.

Had he been lying to himself?

Seeing her with another scythe, and especially witnessing another man looking at his meister like…that, had awoken a jealousy within Soul that tore through his veins like wildfire. He didn't like other men looking at her with that hooded desire. He didn't like them whispering in her ear. And he sure as fuck didn't like other weapons trying to take her away from him. The albino felt a strange sort of possessiveness come to life within him, and though he had felt a faint hum of the emotion for years, it abruptly blazed into a white-hot inferno, drowning out everything else with it's ever-intensifying song. He wanted to keep her all to himself, and himself alone. But what did that mean, exactly? Were they still just friends? Merely weapon and meister? It was getting hard to tell…

A sharp intake of breath drew Soul's attention from his heated thoughts, and he glanced at the woman in sympathy as he watched her fists clench in discomfort. He could feel the knot under his hands, her muscle tight and quivering with stress and pain. The weapon furrowed his brow as he stared at Maka's back, curious as to why she was suddenly so stiff and sore. He was beginning to get worried. His meister was in top physical condition, her muscles toned from constant exercise, and she was quite young. It just wasn't adding up. Yet, the proof was under his gentle hands, her muscles contorting with agony. "Are you sure you didn't hurt yourself?" The deathscythe asked, his gaze briefly flicking to her hands as she dug her nails into the couch.

"Not sure. Don't think so." She managed to grit out, drawing a breath to steady herself. He could see her jaw clenched tightly, undoubtedly holding in a hiss or cry of discomfort, and Soul frowned again. Whatever was causing it, he knew this level of pain was not normal, especially for someone like his meister. Maka had a very high tolerance for pain, a trait she had received from years of battle scars and too many wounds to mention. For her to react like this…it had to hurt like a bitch.

The albino shook his head as he finally felt her relax under his hands. "Maybe you should go to the doctor." He offered, careful to keep his expression slightly indifferent and nonchalant as she cocked her head just enough to meet his gaze. The blonde's expression was nearly as unreadable, though her eyes were sharp and severe, the pain she felt clearly displayed in her olive depths. The sight made the deathscythe inwardly wince in empathy.

The woman shook her head. "No…I'll be fine." She said forcefully, just as Soul knew she would. The weapon huffed and continued to knead her back, scowling as he did. He drew more hisses and groans from the technician, and the albino vowed that if she kept this shit up, her ass was going to the doctor whether she liked it or not. He would probably get Maka-Chopped ten fucking times, but he would drag her there kicking and screaming if he had to. His sanity seriously depended on it.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Body bent with his head hanging over the bathtub, Soul muttered darkly to himself as he scrubbed his still-dripping hair roughly with a towel, not quite over his irritation. Grumbling softly about stubborn-ass, pig-headed women, the weapon snorted. Why the hell did Maka always have to do things the hard way? A couple of trips to the doctor and a good prescription would likely ease her pain, but she just had to be the fucking 'tough as nails meister' who wouldn't chill the hell out and get some damned help. Of course, she didn't mind accepting his help, sighing and moaning under his careful ministrations, and nearly driving him bat-shit insane in the process. Just how in the hell was he supposed to keep his cool when she was acting like that?

And to think he had accused her of having no sex appeal.

Their relationship had always been an innocent one, yes, but lately, that seemed harder and harder to adhere to. He was a man now, after all, and it was getting tougher to ignore how fond he had grown of his meister over the years. Not that he would try to take advantage of her, of course. He valued her trust far too much for that, and he was a damned gentleman, after all. He wouldn't push those lines without her consent. Still, it wasn't fucking easy. It was impossible to prevent his visceral reactions to her at times, though by some miracle he had managed to keep her from noticing so far. But this 'rub my back so I can gasp and shiver and sexually frustrate the shit out of you' crap had to stop.

Without warning, a scream tore through the house, ripping the deathscythe from his thoughts and sending him hurtling down their hallway in nothing but his pajama pants. Irritation forgotten, the emotion was instead replaced by an icy fear, the weapon terrified as he realized it was Maka's voice that echoed through the house. Soul was petrified; his heart pounding furiously as he skidded to a stop before the woman's door. His meister screamed again, a wail filled with fear, confusion, and above all, agony. The albino grabbed the doorknob, but it was locked, and without even thinking, he transformed his arm into a blade and sliced down, the hunk of brass dropping to the floor with a sound thud. He shoved the door open, his panicked gaze immediately seeking out the blonde. He froze at what he found.

Maka kneeled on the floor by her closet, her body arched over and her arms wrapped tightly about herself, her fingers squeezing her shoulders so hard her knuckles had turned white. She was naked, doubtlessly caught preparing for bed, and his crimson eyes were immediately drawn to her back. His gaze widened.

What in Shinigami's name?

Her back was practically crawling, her muscles quivering and jerking so forcefully he could literally see the movement under her pale skin. It was almost as if tiny snakes glided under her flesh, the slithering motions focused mainly around her shoulder blades. His meister cried out again, choking back a sob as she did. It broke the man from his shocked stillness. "MAKA!" He cried, his heart twisting as she turned her face just enough to meet his gaze. Her olive eyes were wide and filled with tears, wet rivulets streaking down her face while she held her bottom lip between her teeth. The weapon dropped beside her, his hands hovering just above her skin in uncertainty. Could he touch her? Would he hurt her more?

"Soul!" She gasped, fingers tightening to the point that her nails began to cut into her skin. "I…I don't…please…CALL SHINIGAMI!" The woman broke off, unable to speak as another spasm shook her back, her skin puckering in a twisted knot around her shoulder blades. The blonde moaned again, and the deathscythe rose in a flash, skidding to her mirror and scrawling numbers across the cold, glassy surface faster than he ever had. He seemed to wait an eternity before the skull-like face appeared before him.

The death god barely had a chance to raise his hand in greeting before a very frenzied weapon was right in his face, screaming frantically. "There's something wrong with Maka!" The albino cried, pointing to her quivering form and grabbing the side of the mirror with his free hand. "You have to fucking help her!" In some sort of vague, strange way, one part of Soul's mind realized that he wasn't acting very cool right now, but seeing his meister in such agony had ripped away his carefully-maintained exterior. The god's hollow eyes widened.

"Wait there." Shinigami-sama commanded, his voice unusually sharp and quite serious as he disappeared from sight. Soul gritted his teeth as his meister screamed again, and the man whirled, dropping back at her side. He felt so fucking useless right now. There was a primal part of him that wanted nothing more than to go deathscythe and rip the shit out of whatever was hurting his technician, but he couldn't. The source of her pain was beyond his reach, and the albino fisted his hand, punching the floor in frustration. He was supposed to protect her, dammit, not just sit beside her and watch her suffer like this.

"Maka…what can I do?" He asked softly, hands practically itching to touch her. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her, but the weapon didn't know if he would only make the pain worse.

The blonde could only shake her head, however, her body arching and bowing so low her forehead pressed against the carpet. Abruptly, Soul felt a strange apprehension in the air, an icy sensation crawling across his shoulders and his muscles tensing in an ageless instinct, his battle-sense so honed it was constantly alert even when he appeared to be distracted or resting. He stiffened and immediately straightened, his crimson eyes focusing on Maka's far wall. It seemed to almost shiver for a moment, until the surface itself began rippling like water. An arm reached through, and the deathscythe was on his feet in an instant, a blade appearing from his body. Maybe he couldn't stop his meister's pain, but he sure as hell could protect her from whatever the fuck was coming through the wall.

"Calm down, Soul-kun." A familiar voice echoed, and the weapon flicked his eyes to the side to find the skull-faced god staring at him from the mirror once more. "She's here to help."

Frowning, the weapon eased his stance slightly as a woman stepped from the rippling wall with ease, immediately striding forward and her eyes zeroing in on the fallen blonde. The wall behind her solidified, then, the ripples smoothing away as if nothing had ever been amiss. "K-Kim?" Soul asked, dropping his defensive stance as the witch approached. She nodded once as she moved closer, and then brushed past him to kneel beside his fallen meister, her expression turning grave as she stared at Maka's quivering form.

"How long has she been like this?" Kim asked softly, gently placing her fingers against the blonde's puckering skin.

"About ten minutes." Soul replied, managing to keep his voice reasonably level even while his hands fisted with rage and sorrow, unable to look away as he watched her body jerk constantly in intense agony.

Kim nodded. "I see." Without another word, the witch placed her palms flat against the meister's shoulder blades, a soft glow emanating from her touch. Maka gave a muffled shriek at the contact, valiantly trying to hold in her cries of pain as her grip tightened enough that her nails dug into her shoulders, the force so intense small pricks of blood appeared on her pale skin. Soul, immediately and irrationally, wanted to rip Kim's head off for causing his technician even more pain, though somewhere beyond the fury he realized it had to be necessary. The moment was tense for the deathscythe as he watched Kim steadily trace her fingers down the blonde's back, following the crawling ridges under Maka's skin. At first, nothing seemed to change, but slowly, excruciatingly so, the disturbing movement began to ease, and finally, vanished altogether. The meister slumped forward in relief, a small sigh escaping her as her body went limp and she wilted against the carpet. Soul immediately stepped forward and gathered her to him, cradling her slender form against his chest. He didn't even notice the mirror fade out as Shinigami-sama disappeared; all he could think about was how fucking scared he had been.

The witch straightened from her kneeling position. "She passed out." Kim said quietly, shaking her head and causing her short pink locks to sway gently. "I can understand why. Her body was under immense strain." A pause. "She needs to rest."

The weapon nodded and carried his meister to her bed, doing his best to keep from seeing too much as he arranged her carefully and pulled the covers over her pale form. He then filed out alongside Kim, pulling the door shut behind him as best he could without a doorknob. Soul took a steadying breath and turned to find the witch staring at him, her green eyes never leaving his face as something dark and heavy danced within her gaze.

He stared right back. "Well?" He demanded, careful to keep his voice soft so Maka could sleep. The woman motioned for him to follow and stepped into the kitchen before speaking.

"It's her soul…it's changing. Or rather, not just changing, it's transcending." The witch explained quietly, her voice low as she turned to regard the man behind her.

Her words caused the weapon's heart to lurch oddly in his chest, his brows furrowing further in confusion and concern. Her soul was…changing? Transcending? The fuck? "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Soul ground out quietly, impatient and anxious to know exactly what was wrong with his meister.

Kim shot him a look that was half irritated and half sympathetic. "Soul. You must remain calm, for both your sake, and for Maka's. She's going to need your help." She said gently, and the weapon let out an aggravated sigh, knowing that he shouldn't be taking his frustration out on the witch. She was, after all, the one who had eased his technician's pain, and being short with her wasn't going to change anything. He gave her a quick, jerking nod, and Kim smiled slightly before continuing. "I know it's difficult when you are worried for your meister, but trust me when I say Maka is far from injured. The pain she is experiencing will end soon, and her transcendence will be complete."

"Transcendence into what, exactly?" The deathscythe asked, his nerves eased slightly from her assurances. As long as Maka wasn't hurt, he could be cool.

There was a beat of silence before Kim replied, her green eyes sliding towards the ruined door. "It's her grigori soul. It's transcending into a…a Watcher." She breathed, the last word escaping her lips in a reverential whisper. There was an odd expression upon the woman's face, reflecting a surprised, shocked awe as she shook her head. "I…I really can't believe I'm actually seeing this happen. It's been centuries since the last grigori soul transcended." She returned her attention to Soul's face then, a little smile playing across her lips. "Your meister is special, deathscythe. Though only one in fifty million people posses a grigori soul, only one in a thousand grigori souls have the chance to transcend. And a grigori soul's power is nothing compared to what a Watcher can do. A Watcher's power is amped up a hundred percent higher when their souls transcend, and they experience an increase in their strength that is, quite frankly, nearly frightening."

The scythe was starting to feel lightheaded. This shit…was a little much to take in all at once. "So…what does all this mean for Maka?" He asked, unnerved when Kim smiled enigmatically.

"I'd rather just explain it to you both when she awakes."

Well shit.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

The woman stared at her interlaced fingers as Kim tried to explain what had occurred to her, breathing slowly and steadily to keep her nerves under control. The pain in her back had settled into nothing but a dull throb, yet her head threatened to burst. Maka found the witch's words difficult to believe, though she knew Kim would never lie about something as grave as this, and she certainly wouldn't profess it if she weren't certain about her findings. It was just...a little much, really. She wasn't sure how to feel or respond. In a single day, the blonde's entire world had been turned upside down. Her back had shuddered and convulsed sporadically while she was at Shibusen, but she had merely blamed it on stress, assuming the pain would cease after she had a bit of rest over the weekend. Soul's talented musician's fingers had managed to ease the agony for a while, yes, but...not even two hours later, the pain had returned. Even then, of course, the meister had tried to bear it in her typical fashion-which included locking her jaw so tightly she refused to make any sound while she spitefully ignored her body's furious protests at any movement she made. Maka was determined to keep her weapon from worrying further.

However, as she made her way to her closet, intent on changing into her pajamas, the pain abruptly blossomed into pure agony, and it was too much to ignore. It had ripped across her back in one angry motion, leaving her skin tingling and a molten heat bursting through her muscles. At first, the woman had merely gasped, staggering against the closet door and refusing to allow any tears to fall. She was Maka Albarn, dammit, and she wasn't going to let a little pain get the better of her. However, as her muscles began to convulse and literally twist in upon themselves, she couldn't fight it any longer. It had felt as if a hundred knives were drawn across her back in unison, her very skin burning at the sheer agony of it. She had to scream.

The blonde couldn't remember much after that. Everything was...blurry. She did remember Soul at her side, and she could vaguely recall the feel of Kim's fingers on her back, but that was all. Maka wasn't even certain how long she had shivered on the floor, shuddering as her back quivered with pain that increased every second. She did, however, remember the blissful relief that Kim had afforded her, allowing her the luxury of finally passing out and receiving some much-needed rest. According to her friends, she had been out for around three hours.

"But how do you know it's true? How can you be sure I'm becoming a...a Watcher?" The meister finally asked, raising her olive gaze to face the two seated next to her bed. "And why is it affecting my back?" She added, desperately seeking answers.

Kim shook her head gently. "Honestly, I'm not certain why the pain is centered in your back. I do recognize your changing wavelength, and you practically reek of new power. It is very easy to identify a grigori soul experiencing the transcendence, though each occurrence is unique. Your body experiences such unbearable pain because as your wavelength changes, it must become accustomed to the new power it holds, as must your soul. The power increase is so severe it will literally cause you physical pain, particularly in your larger muscles. I'm guessing the rest of your body will be affected later."

Maka gave a dry smile. "Can't wait." She said flatly, and she was rewarded with a snort from her weapon. She glanced over to find an amused glint in Soul's eyes, a little smirk upon his face that honestly did nothing to hide his concern for her. The discovery made her stomach flutter slightly.

The witch's lips thinned into a small smile. "While it is true the rest of your body still must adjust, I'm told the pain isn't nearly as severe as when the power first manifests like it did today. Somehow, I don't think it will prevail against you, scythemeister." She said, green eyes catching the little exchange between the man and woman before her.

The blonde shrugged lightly. "I'm sure I can handle it, then." Maka tried to smile, but it ended up becoming a slight frown, her olive eyes darkening with an inner struggle. After all, there was a much worse pain to feel, and that was the agony in her very heart and soul whenever she witnessed her partner get hurt. The deathscythe seated next to her seemed to pick up on the sudden change in her mood, and she saw him stiffen from the corner of her eye. The meister could feel him staring at her, but she pushed her thoughts aside and returned her focus to the woman beside him. "What else do I need to know?"

Kim held out her hands a bit helplessly. "I'm afraid I can't tell you much else. All I know is that you should gain the ability to use new techniques, and you will find a substantial increase in the power of your current ones. Really...I can't help you much." At Maka's quick glance of incredulity, the witch's eyes widened and she waved her hands defensively. "Hey, hey, don't give me that look. I'm not exactly an expert on Watchers, but you don't have to freak out. There is someone who can help, and I'm willing to bet Shinigami-sama has already contacted her, too." The pink-haired woman looked a little too pleased with herself as both scythe and meister wore identical shocked expressions. She grinned. "Speaking of which, I should probably be getting back to Shibusen. I'm the ultra-super-busy school nurse now, you know. I don't normally make house calls." With a wink, Kim stood, and Maka took the time to thank her friend profusely for her aid. Just because the last few hours had weirded her the hell out didn't mean the blonde had lost her sense of propriety.

After the witch departed (through the front door this time, at least), Maka stared at the wall silently, trying to sort out how she felt. In the end...she really couldn't decide. How were you supposed to react after finding out you were some freakishly-rare soul type that hadn't been seen in centuries and would possibly develop incredible amounts of power within a few short days? They really hadn't covered that in class back in her academy days.

She could feel Soul's wavelength approaching as he returned from seeing Kim out, her abilities of perception having grown exponentially after years of practice and use. Sighing, the blonde tilted her head just enough to watch her weapon draw near, glad the witch had helped her into her pajamas before leaving. The deathscythe sat in the chair beside her bed heavily, and though he appeared tired and distracted, his presence comforted her in a way she could not explain. At least he was there, right? What would she have done if had been away on a mission? What would have happened then? It was a dark thought.

"I'm glad I was here." The albino said suddenly, unknowingly mimicking her inner concerns and causing Maka to blink at him in shock. Their patterns of thought were strangely similar, it seemed. Her olive gaze searched his face, finding relief, tension, and even a hint of guilt lurking in his gorgeous red eyes. The woman frowned lightly. Why would he feel guilty? Even his soul's wavelength reverberated with a faint hum of apologetic shame, and she could only tilt her head slightly in confusion, though she smiled softly.

"So am I. I'm glad you were with me, Soul." The blonde said gently, startled when he dropped his head and hid his face behind a curtain of unruly white hair. "I don't know what I would have done without you." She offered, hoping to ease whatever burden lay upon his conscience.

To her surprise, however, her words only made him tense further, his shoulders rigid as he slowly lifted his head. The scythe's darkened red eyes bored into her own, and the meister shifted uncomfortably under his near-crazed stare. What was wrong with him? "That's just it, Maka! Don't you get it?" The weapon growled hoarsely, his sharp teeth revealed behind a wicked snarl. "What if I wasn't here because I was on a mission? How long would you have been in pain before someone found you?" He hissed, shaking his head as he fisted one hand and slammed it against the open palm of the other. "That settles it. I'm not going anywhere until this shit is over."

His meister blinked incredulously. "Soul, you can't do that!" She chided, even though she was touched that he cared so much about her. Maka knew that he did, of course, especially after all the years they had been together, but...it was nice hearing it occasionally. "A deathscythe doesn't have the luxury of turning down missions." She said gently, surprising herself when she placed a hand over his. She didn't recall telling her body to do that.

"Fucking. Watch. Me." The weapon ground out, punctuating each word with a growled edge, crimson eyes hard and determined as he stared into her olive depths. "I'm not going to leave you alone during this, Maka. My job is important, sure, but...this is more important. You're more important." The woman felt her eyes widen while her heart made a curious fluttering motion in her chest, the taste in her mouth bittersweet. Soul, himself, seemed to realize what he had said a second afterwards, his red orbs widening for a fraction before they narrowed and his face relaxed into an apathetic expression. Taking her hand, the deathscythe gently replaced her fingers upon the bed. "There is no way I'm going to leave you alone when something this big is going down. It just wouldn't be cool." Standing, the weapon stretched his lean body with a hiss and grunted. "Try to go back to sleep. I'll call Shinigami and see when we can meet with him, so don't worry about anything except getting some rest."

He turned, then, heading for the door while Maka smiled after him. He really was very considerate...despite the generally aloof attitude he tried to maintain for appearances sake. "Thanks. Goodnight Soul." She called softly, and the scythe grunted again.

"Night." He replied, pulling her ruined door closed behind him.

With a sigh, the meister settled back onto her pillow and turned, staring out her window as she tried to calm her racing pulse and jumbled thoughts. Today had been nothing less than an emotional rollercoaster, and Soul honestly wasn't making anything any easier for her.

My job is important, sure, but...this is more important. You're more important.

Maka bit her lower lip, unable to keep the words from echoing in her mind. Why did they make her flush softly and her heart skip a beat?

You're more important.

The words echoed again, and the woman let out a small cry of annoyance. For Shinigami's SAKE, what was wrong with her? Soul was her best friend! Her partner! Of course he cared about her. There was absolutely nothing to be getting flustered about. At least, that's what she decided to tell herself. Maka sighed again, staring blankly at the manically-grinning moon and trying to calm her poor, frazzled nerves. Between the pain, the revelations, and her weapon's heartbreakingly considerate behavior, the blonde was absolutely drained. She was exhausted, but even then, sleep eluded her. Her mind was a cluttered mess of thoughts, skipping between her confusing emotions about a certain white-haired scythe and her apprehension about all this Watcher business. What did these new powers mean? What would happen to her after her transcendence was complete? And WHY did her heart insist on thumping painfully every time she recalled those three little words?

You're more important.

The woman wanted to scream. Again. For years, she and Soul had been an excellent team, a duo with a solid partnership that never faltered. After they had finally surpassed the rougher stages in their relationship (such as her frequent bouts of stubbornness and his infuriatingly aloof attitude), they had become a ruthless, well-oiled machine of destruction, and their deadly efficiency was matched by few. Maka had steadily grown more powerful over the years, as had her partner, and they had certainly made a name for themselves despite their youth. Because of their impressive skills, the two had enjoyed several more years as partners before Soul had been asked to handle other missions and she took a teaching job at Shibusen to pass on her now-mastered weapon skills. They weren't just friends…they were best friends. They were soul mates. The blonde knew how much the deathscythe meant to her, and she knew that he cared for her just as deeply. So why was she suddenly so unsure? It was indeed a common thing to say 'absence makes the heart grow fonder', but this was ridiculous. Sure, she missed the albino insanely while he was gone, but that wasn't enough to make her question the entire range of her emotions, was it? Wasn't that normal; to miss your best friend while they were away?

Oh hell, she just wasn't sure anymore, and right now wasn't the time to be thinking about it. Her mind and body were jacked up enough from the pain and the shock of her new powers manifesting, and throwing emotional confusion into the mix wasn't good for her blood pressure, she was sure. With a resigned breath, the meister closed her eyes and willed her thoughts to cease, forcing her body to calm itself so she could rest. She needed to be at the top of her game tomorrow if she was to start controlling these new powers of hers, and she wasn't going to stop until she had them completely mastered.

She was Maka Albarn, after all. Nothing could overcome her.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

The albino sighed in irritation as he made his way down the hall to his room, scrubbing his face with a palm. It was fucking late, he was fucking tired, and he wanted to fucking sleep. He couldn't, though, not until he had spoken with Shinigami-sama about his meister.

Maka…

Soul entered his room and shut the door behind him, leaning against the cool wood and shoving his hands into his pockets. If he hadn't been here…the very thought of what would have happened twisted his gut. He didn't even have the luxury of telling himself Blair would have found her, since the cat no longer lived with them these days. The weapon supposed it was probably his fault. The two of them had moved out of their old apartment last year, buying a new condo near the academy with their substantially-increased funds. His missions as a deathscythe paid considerably well, and since Maka was Shibusen's WeaponMaster (a highly prestigious and demanding title), her salary was just as impressive. They were both more than ready to get out of their tiny apartment, and the cat had, surprisingly, decided not to follow them. Soul had a feeling it was largely due to the fact she no longer had the power to affect him as she once had.

The weapon had never been seriously interested in Blair. Sure, she had a curvaceous figure that most men lusted for, and he couldn't stop his physical reactions to her shameless antics, though his nosebleed responses grated his nerves. Her human form might have been enticing, but she wasn't what he wanted in a woman. Hadn't he proved that in the Book of Eibon? The Lust Chapter had stripped them of all pretenses, and had revealed their darkest secrets before all their peers. The things they desired most in the opposite sex was quickly revealed as their bodies transformed into exactly what they wanted from the other gender, the length of the transformation solely dependent upon their sexual drives and hidden wants. Upon transforming, Soul's new, lean body had resembled Maka so much it was almost embarrassing, all the way from his modest chest to his long, killer legs. Obviously, pumpkin-sized breasts didn't factor into his ideal of the perfect woman. Eventually, as he had matured, the deathscythe merely stopped responding to Blair period, ignoring her sensual presence as she tried to get a rise out of him. He was too old and too damned cool to get a nosebleed every time he saw a naked woman now.

That had seemed to throw her off. Blair was clearly unhappy with his apathetic behavior, though Maka seemed pleasantly surprised and even somewhat smug each time her weapon had waved off the cat's seductive advances. The memory made him grin despite his current mood. Clearly, he wasn't the only jealous one in their relationship. So, when the two of them had told the cat they were moving, she had merely yawned and flicked her tail in a bored manner, coolly informing them she didn't feel like packing her stuff. Maka had protested at first, but the deathscythe quickly shut her up, looking forward to actually having his own damned room again.

Chuckling to himself, Soul pushed away from the door and approached his mirror, grimacing when he noted his haggard reflection. Damn, today had really fucked him over. The albino sighed and began to scrawl the numbers every meister and weapon knew by heart across the cool glass, far more in control of himself than he had been the last time he called. Shoving his hands in his pockets, the man adopted the poor posture that had become his signature stance, slouching as he waited.

After a moment, the mirror flickered and blurred, his reflection dissolving into a gentle background of blue skies and moving clouds contrasting sharply against the death god's stark face. "Ah, Soul-kun. I had a feeling you would be calling." Shinigami-sama said easily, his voice bright and chipper as usual. "Kim-chan told me what happened. I trust Maka-chan is doing well?" He asked, hollow eyes seemingly focused intently upon the scythe's face.

"Yea, she's sleeping." The weapon replied, his voice devoid of emotion and his face apathetic as he spoke. He had a feeling the god could see past his façade, though. Soul's intense red eyes darkened slightly as he spoke again, immediately getting to the point so he could get some damned sleep. "Kim said something about a friend of yours helping Maka though this…whatever the fu—"

"Language, Soul-kun."

"…whatever she's going through." The albino amended, slightly irritated at the interruption. It was, after all, past one in the morning, and he had just narrowly avoided having a possible nervous breakdown and an accompanying heart attack as he was forced to just sit there and watch his meister writhe in agony while he could only stand there and do nothing. Couldn't he at least catch a damn break? "When can she start training?" Soul asked.

The death god tilted his head a bit, clapping his oversized hands once. "Why, tomorrow of course! I expect both of you here at…shall we say nine? That should give Maka-chan an ample opportunity to rest up a bit. The poor dear is exhausted, I'm sure." The skull-faced entity hummed a bit to himself afterwards, and then nodded as if he approved. "Yes, that should do nicely. Now get some rest; you'll both need your strength tomorrow!" The god was prepared to say his farewells, then, but the deathscythe quickly cut him off before he could.

"Shinigami-sama, there's something else I need to tell you." Soul said firmly, a hard edge to his words as he mentally steeled himself. He wasn't going to budge on this subject.

The god's hollow eyes seemed to bore into his own. "What would that be, Soul-kun?"

The weapon crossed his arms resolutely. "I'm not going on any missions for a while." He replied, watching the skull-like face before him betray the slight impression of a quirked brow. The albino really didn't care. "I refuse to leave Maka when so much is happening to her. The thought of what could have happened today if I wasn't here pisses me o—"

"Language, Soul-kun."

"—worries me. A lot." The deathscythe ground out, quickly losing patience due to his fatigue and raw nerves. To his surprise, however, Shinigami-sama chuckled slightly.

With a wave of his comically-oversized hand, the death god brushed the albino's concerns and irritation aside. "Oh, I hadn't planned on you leaving Maka-chan, Soul-kun, but we can talk about that tomorrow. Have a nice night!" He then disappeared from view, leaving a very confused weapon staring at his own crimson-eyed reflection.

What the fuck was the supposed to mean?

With an exasperated groan, Soul turned from the mirror and shrugged his shirt off, deciding he would worry about it tomorrow. Right now, he was too damn tired to try to make sense of any of the weird-ass shit he had been through today.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

I hope you all enjoyed chapter two. If you would be so kind, please review and let me know what you think. I truly appreciate each and every one of you that reviewed chapter one. Seeing other people enjoy my writing makes me happier than I can express!

Fair winds and fair skies,

~Captain Jules~