Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater.

Prompt #16: Meeting - Neither of them ever regretted what brought them to this moment.

Words: 613

They were going to die, here, on this plateau, in the rain.

She knew it. He knew it. The creature they were fighting knew it.

The only question was how they would go out.

I often think about that day I found Soul.

Meister-weapon conventions are often boring events. Unless you know exactly what you're looking for in a partner and you're very, very lucky, it's an exercise in futility. I'd already been to three such events and found no suitable candidates.

Then I saw this sullen-looking, solitary guy standing in the corner with his hands in his pockets and a look of absolute boredom on his face. His nametag identified him as Soul, and the marking beside it classified him as a Demon Scythe.

Despite his gender, I drew closer. A Demon Scythe was rare, and as I wanted to be a scythe meister like Mama, I couldn't afford to be picky. I introduced myself to him, patient as he replied curtly, almost rudely. Clearly he was just as disillusioned with this as I was.

So I asked the words that sealed my fate. "I'd like to learn more about you."

I'll never forget the look in his eyes. Hope, surprise, apprehension, a touch of fear and not a little defiance. His gaze flicked over to the door, fearful and uncomfortable, like a spooked horse looking for a way out.

"Not here," he'd said. "Someplace private."

So we found the café with the piano, he sat down at the keyboard, and with one dark, magnificent song I barely understood, I dared to offer my hand.

I think about how I met Maka from time to time.

My first week at Shibusen was comprised of standing in the corners of large rooms and watching boring people make meaningless small talk. Nobody wanted to approach me, probably because of my appearance, but thinking back, I really didn't try toning down my coolness.

Then I noticed this bright, cheery-looking girl wandering through the masses with a searching look on her face. The nametag on her flat chest said Maka Albarn and identified her as a meister.

Despite my dislike of strangers, I watched her approach. She had guts, a lot more than most people there, and not a little curiosity in her eyes. She gave her name and a hello, and I merely grunted my own. I thought she was just being polite.

Then she said the words I hadn't expected to hear. "I'd like to learn more about you."

I'll never forget what I felt in that moment. For the first time since discovering my weapon blood, since leaving the Evans name behind, since stepping through the convention door, someone wanted to know about me, Soul. Fear of being judged, as I had been all my life, had me looking for the exit.

"Not here," I'd demanded. "Someplace private."

So she followed me, and we found that café with the piano, and when my blood-chilling song didn't sent her running, I dared to take her hand.

The confessions, spoken in unison, startled both meister and weapon.

"I've never regretted choosing you."

They locked eyes. Searched for lies. Finding none, they gave their partner a true smile and nodded.

Souls linked in a resonance stronger than any they'd ever achieved before, Maka and Soul let out twin yells of defiance and charged to their deaths.

They were found by the retrieval team hours later. Their hands were clasped in a grip no one felt the urge to break. They deserved to lie that way.

Together.

Ouch, I gave myself feels with this.

Review please! Almost to 75, reach for the 100 mark!