Day two! I really don't know where I'm going with this one so brace yourselves. It's written from Soul's point of view and I don't like doing guy point of views. I still don't understand them even after living my whole life with my brother and we're really close. So, I try my best *winces*

Short Skirt and a Long Jacket-Cake (SoMa Week Day 2: Nose Bleed)

I want a girl with the right allocations
Who's fast and thorough
And sharp as a tack

I want a girl with a short skirt and a long jacket

One of the mysteries of life: how come Maka's skirt never flips up when she flips? It's like those short skirts purposely tease me. I live with a girl for Death's sake and that seems to be every guys dream, but it's not very glorious. Maka is so tomboyish sometimes, except for those damned skirts! Skirts that short should be illegal on girls like Maka who have long legs. heck, I don't even care if it's only illegal on Maka cause I could care less about those other girls. They were all just looks and flirtatious actions. It's like they live their who lives preparing to latch onto a man and never letting go. That's something Maka would never do. His meister's prepared, strong, and smart. The whole nine yards. And she relies on herself to get through life.

"Soul? Soul?" Maka's face focuses into view. A gloved hand waves in front of my face.

"Wha?" Wow, Soul, already losing your cool only a few days into your new partnership.

Maka rocks back onto her heels and stands up. Her gloved hand reaches toward me. "Come, on. Let's get back to training."

Well, word of meister is law. I stand up groaning and I stretch. Maka shoots me a look that clearly says Today, Soul but I put it off as long as I can. We'd been training all morning and my transforming had been crappy. My metal skin kept trying to shed itself without my consent. It got so bad that we had to take a break just so I could collect myself. Why we had to train on Saturday of all days was beyond me.

In a flash of light, I change into my weapon form. The cool metal feels foreign and I can't move. Well at least my body didn't reject it instantaneously. I feel so trapped and claustrophobic. Maka swings me around experimentally and lets out a breath when my soul doesn't reject its new dwelling. My blade swings faster and faster as Maka goes deeper and deeper into the battle in her head. I concentrate on keeping in this weapon form. In my imagination my fingers twitch wishing to have something to do. All those years of playing piano is coming right back to bite me in the butt. Even without physically being there my fingers wish to do something. I concentrate on steadying my focus. A cool dark water flows over me and suddenly my red and black form feels like where I belong. The water is buzzing alive with a soul wavelength that isn't my own. It must belong to Maka. I am her instrument. She is to play me and I am here to help her express herself. All my senses are sharper so I can tell what my meister wants. I hear her breaths and her feet pounding the grassy floor of the clearing. I feel every slight shift of her hands. I watch her move as she contemplates what to do next.

I'm not human.

I'm a scythe blade.

Maka flips.

I lose it.

That skirt ever so slightly flips and I'm a goner.

Like a fish flopping out of water straight into the Sahara.

Why did this metal ever feel like home.

It flies off me and I become a thirteen year old once again.

A thirteen year old who almost impales himself on his own scythe arm.

But that doesn't matter. I'm dead in a matter of seconds any way.

Blood trickles down my chin and the look in Maka's eyes is murderous.

A book comes out of nowhere with no sound or warning.

I want to move, but apparently my mind doesn't understand that I have a body again.

A thick bound book smashes my skull and the world turns all bleary. My meister's red face can still be seen though. She tugs the hem of her skirt down as if to make it longer. She yells, "You're just like my papa!"

Maka turns and runs.

Soul Eater. Only a few days old and this life is already screwed. Maybe I'll just go home and become the perfect little Evans musician.

But Maka's worth more than that. And though my body protests, I stumble up and totter after my meister. Maka's worth going after.

But damn, that girl can wield a book.