to those who have asked 'where do i get these ideas', the answer is greek mythology. this absurdity basically writes itself.


She leaves her horses in the copse of trees that has become bushier since her last visit. Curiously, Soul does not bid her farewell and, in lieu of going home, wanders out into a budding field of wheat. With the quiet look over his shoulder he gives her, Maka feels herself pushed forward to him as strongly as if Kim had spelled her again.

"You look exactly how I remember," he says, running his hands across the tops of the crop as she trails behind him. "Well. Except for the slippers. Do you not age?"

Considering she had seen him only a few hours ago, she supposes she can't have aged much in his eyes at all. "I do, but it is imperceptible to mortals. The Fates are much older than I. Lachesis even has wrinkles."

He seems tormented at that information, and he's silent as they walk. They come to a small strip of hay-strewn land that separates one field of grain from another. Soul sits, sighing and stretching out his legs. "Just how old are you?"

Maka bites her lip, slowly joining him on the ground. "In Mortal Time, I honestly don't know. I was twice-born when the Titans still ruled, long before the creation of Man."

"Twice?"

"It's a long story. The point is, I have been ruler of Hades for... awhile."

"Geeze," he says, sounding bitter. "I feel like a loser sitting next to you."

"Why? Is antiquity 'cool' these days?"

He snorts a little at that. "What I mean is- I feel like crap because I talked to a handful of dead guys, but you've personally spoken with every mortal who's ever died since the beginning of time."

She shrugs a little, unsure what to say. "Death is not necessarily a mournful thing. Being dead is more tedious than much else, really- you have to put up with being in a boat with Black Star, then there's all the paperwork, the change of address forms, the never-ending line at the Department of Spectral Vehicles, all the tourist traffic for Tartarus..." Maka digs her fingers into hay and smells the dusty rawness she stirs up from it. "But I guess it's scary for most mortals at first. Just what kind of stories are you guys telling each other about the underworld, anyway? Everyone expects some evil creature under my hood!"

"I totally wasn't expecting a blonde, to be honest" he laughs.

Maka self-consciously brings a hand to her hair, stroking the ends of a handful of it. "Anyway. You did a really great thing today." From her perspective, he's technically done several great things in the past day. "I have not seen a man comfort the dead like you do. Despite being frightened of me and my realm, those souls willingly walked through the gates after speaking with you and accepting your gifts. They hardly wailed at all."

Soul laces his fingers together and studies them, flaxen eyebrows furrowed. "I guess I felt that I would want something familiar in my hands when I died, so."

At this, Maka stares at him, though he does not seem to notice. She imagines his death, sometime in the relatively short future. As ruler of the underworld, she would have to greet him on the shores of the Acheron, writing his name in her planner with so many others.

Her insides constrict a little. She is immortal. Soul is not. She doesn't like it.

After awhile, he says, "If it's okay to ask- I don't really wanna get smacked- uh. Are you dating someone else, now?"

Not expecting the question, her laughter surprises them both. "There are very few beings in existence who would entertain the thought of me and dating at the same time."

"Let's be honest, 'Would you like to go to hell sometime' is kinda the worst pickup ever."

Maka flops back into the hay, groaning. She petulantly kicks her slippers off her feet. "It's not like I've tried it on anyone else! Blurgh. Kim made that one up, anyway. She's the one who demanded I find a partner."

"Wait…" he starts, unsure. "You only approached me because Zeus told you to?"

"Technically, yes." She cringes.

"Wow," he says, giving one humorless, hurt laugh.

"Please don't misunderstand. I mean, yes, she's ruler of the gods, but in the grand scheme of things we are in equal standing. I didn't have to look for a partner. I came here for my own reasons."

Voice low, it's clear he's still offended when he asks, "What reasons, then?"

She hunches up in her cloak a little, the hay rustling under her shoulders. "...Even a goddess can desire companionship. "

He misinterprets her. "So, a fling." Soul's chin tilts down, his expression hidden behind his unruly hair.

"A fling for all eternity," she says, irritated. "We are not all as fickle as you and your brother seem to think. My sister called me out on being too cowardly to even try finding someone, so I accepted her help. I gave it my best shot, catastrophe befell mankind, the end. You just had the misfortune at being first in line."

At his silence, she closes her eyes for a moment and sighs before reluctantly standing. There's a reason why mortals used the name of her home as a curse upon others. Who knew what would happen if she stays in the living realm any longer?

Maka pulls her hood over her head. "I should go. Just- sorry. About everything," she says, stepping back into the field and heading for her chariot.

Several paces away, she hears him call out, "Then, does that mean you're not dating anyone?"

She slows to a stop amidst the wheat. "...'My business is with the dead, not the living'," she murmurs.

"But you're not dead, are you?" There's rustling behind her, footsteps hastening through hay and wheat, and she urges herself to leave this living realm but her feet remain planted. Then his hand is at her elbow, slowly turning her around. "Or aren't you? I never really know what to expect with you deities."

She avoids his eyes. "I'm not. I'm the complete opposite, really."

He opens his mouth. Shuts it. Tries again. "Listen, Maka- I haven't seen you in two years, so I wasn't sure if you still…" He trails off, lifting up a hand and pushing her hood off her head. She freezes, shocked when his fingers touch her hair. When he pulls out a stray piece of hay from her fringe, she nervously swallows. "I guess two years feels like almost nothing to you, doesn't it."

She looks at his hand wrapped neatly around her elbow, the warmth of his skin seeping through her cloak. "I saw you eight hours ago," she admits. "But that doesn't make those years nothing to you."

Soul rubs the stalk of hay between his fingers and it twirls around erratically, eyebrows drawn together. "What I'm trying to say is- I do regret what happened, but I don't regret meeting you."

Her heart tumbles around in her chest. The souls of the dead that had piled in Hades because of her invitation to Soul are still fresh in her memory, but Soul had been thinking about them- and Maka- for two years and had come to this conclusion? "Really?"

That little stalk of hay keeps spinning, spinning, spinning, as if he's trying to twirl his hesitance away. "I would've liked to have seen you again."

"Even though…"

He steps closer, nodding somewhat bashfully. "I knew I couldn't visit you because the consequences could've been horrendously fucked, but if they hadn't been- like, if I could have seen you without my brother flipping out- would you have welcomed me?"

His thumb cautiously caresses her arm. There is so much empty, open space around them and yet he keeps drifting closer and she keeps allowing him to drift closer. She struggles for words, staring at his chest. "I didn't think you'd ever want to come back, after what happened."

"Thaaaat doesn't really answer my question," he prods.

"Well, y-yes." Maka blushes brightly, caught between nervously smiling and pouting. "Yes. There's so much I still want to show you. There's so much I want you to show me, like how you've managed to tame my demon hound," she accuses, looking up and squinting at him in suspicion.

Soul's grin is broad and genuine. "He's a pushover, I dunno what the big deal is."

"He's supposed to eat all the flesh off mortals before they enter the underworld."

Nose scrunching at the mental image, he says, "You should probably get a refund from his trainer, then."

She harrumphs at this- she's the one who'd trained Cerberus, after all- and before she knows what's happening, Soul pecks the corner of her mouth with his. He leans away quickly, face carefully blank as he waits for her reaction.

"Oh," is all she manages, the warmth left behind on her skin quickly cooling.

"Yeah." He nervously looks askance. "So, um, when you leave this time, will I ever see you again? Like, before I die?"

An unearthly noise crawls out of her throat as she flounders for something intelligent to say. "Aaah, I, uh-"

The moment is shattered when a mini-alarm goes off in her cloak. Maka slides out of Soul's hand, reluctantly pulling away so she can search her multitude of bottomless pockets for her planner. She glowers at the tome before cracking it open, turning to her notifications page. A message from Charon begins to appear on the page, as if forming from smoke.

'Three-boat pile-up on the docks.'

Reading the message upside-down, Soul says, partially distracted with amazement, "You should probably get that, huh."

"I need to, yes," she agrees, apologetic.

He pulls his eyes away from her planner and nods, mouth tight. "Then go. Don't let me keep you."

"Soul…"

"Those newbies will really want to see a friendly face in the underworld," he urges.

His compassion for the dead is still something that makes her chest hurt with admiration, a constant that shines through no matter what he may be feeling. Squaring her shoulders, Maka snaps her planner shut, tucks it under an arm, and grabs both sides of his face to bring him to her lips. Though his entire body jerks, hands grasping her arms in surprise, his mouth melds to hers, compliant and serene.

Realistically, she knows her physical presence in his life only amounts to maybe three hours in its entirety and he'd been a sixteen year old boy less than a day ago, but his attraction feels real enough when she tilts her head and his lips part for her tongue. He's earthen, and she tastes his life for just a moment before she pulls away, releasing his face from her hands. His cheeks are tinted red, eyes dark and trained on hers.

"I will see you as soon as I can," she promises, catching her breath.

Soul sucks in his lips and runs his tongue between them, slowly letting go of her arms. His voice is thick and breathless. "M'kay," he says, a corner of his mouth twitching up in a crooked grin.

Before she leaves, she remembers Kim's gift in her pocket.