Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater.
Prompt #23: Slap - No Maka-chop hurt more than the strike to his cheek.
Words: 1,569
There was nothing around him but the rain and the darkness and the cold. He screamed out into the night, but the storm swallowed his cries. Death City closed around him like shadows, making his hair almost glow in the darkness. He looked around the streets and cursed. Dammit Maka, where are you?
All he remembered was that somewhere along the line, he'd gotten caught in a lie that blew up in his face. He couldn't even remember what the lie was, but he did remember its aftermath. The last two minutes played back through his mind as his legs moved even faster...
"I hate you!" The shout is punctuated by the slap across his face. "I hate you!" Maka screamed again. Tears glimmered in her eyes and wavered behind her voice. "You worthless sack of shit! You lied to me!"
Soul looked back at her. His eyes must have looked dead or cold, because Maka's expression reddened even further and she wound up for another strike. It caught him on the opposite cheek, harder than the first, and Soul's head snapped to the side from the force of the blow.
The pain was negligible, barely a sting, but it ignited a dull ache in his heart. Because he'd done the one thing he'd sworn to never do. The one thing he promised her and himself, so many years ago, to never do to either of them.
He'd lied to his meister.
Maka shouted another curse at him, then turned and bolted out the front door. Within half a second she was nothing more than a blur in the storm. Soul let out a curse and ran after her, not even pausing to grab his leather jacket or an umbrella for protection from the growing storm.
She was faster than he gave her credit for. Long hours training had strengthened her legs and given her both power and speed. Within a minute he'd lost sight of her completely. Within twenty minutes of aimless running, he was cold and wet and even more miserable.
After half an hour, he was officially beginning to panic. Maka never stayed off the grid this long. Usually she'd find him using her Soul Perception, they'd cross paths someplace, and have it out right there. Then they would apologize and head home hand-in-hand.
Soul clumsily sent out his soul wavelength, trying to flood the streets around him in the vain hope of brushing against Maka's soul. While he had no Soul Perception of his own, he would always know the feel of his meister's wavelength.
Wait a second. He cocked his head as his soul touched something warm. Turning towards the source, Soul took a step closer. The warmth grew minutely. Another step made it grow even more. Maka. "Maka!" he shouted.
The answer came not from the air, but within his heart. Soul...
He bolted towards the warmth and the small, weakened voice. He had to find her and apologize. He had to find her. He had to find her.
Soul...
"Maka!" he shouted. "Maka, answer me!"
Sou... The answer died mid-whisper.
"Maka!" Soul forced himself to run even faster. "Maka, c'mon, give me something! Anything! Tell me where the hell you are right this instant!" He skidded around a corner into a blind alley -
And there she was, lying next to the Dumpster like the trash that littered the alley. Her hair was lying loose around her in tangled strings, and her face was a mess of blood and bruises. Her shirt was torn open to bare her bra, her skirt hiked up to her waist, her tights ripped and boots missing. Finger- and fist-shaped bruises littered her exposed skin like sick smudges of blue and black paint.
The sight stopped his heart cold. For what felt like forever (but was really only a second or two) he could only stare in shock and horror at his meister. Then his brain rebooted and kicked his body back online.
Soul strode over and knelt beside Maka. His fingertips gently smoothed over her swollen cheek before he cradled the back of her neck. His other arm moved to slide beneath her knees. He lifted the unconscious girl into his arms and cradled her against his chest.
She gave a tiny moan. "...who...?"
"Maka?" He looked down at a pair of fluttering green eyes. "Maka, it's me. It's Soul. I've got you," he whispered.
"Mm." Maka nodded and turned her face into his chest. "Knew you'd...find me...always...do..."
But not soon enough, he thought, scanning her beaten form. "Did he - did he - "
It was almost a relief when she shook her head. "Never got that far. Kicked him in the balls. He took off."
Soul couldn't help his chortle. "That's my girl."
"Soul?"
"Yeah?" He didn't look at her, too busy navigating the dark streets while trying not to slip and drop her.
"...I'm sorry."
He shook his head. "Don't be. It was my fault. I shouldn't have lied to you."
"And I overreacted. I should have stayed, should have listened." She shook her head. "This is all my fault."
"It's not." He shuddered as the rage fought to escape him, but he tamped down on it for Maka's sake. "I promise, I'm going to find out who did this to you. But right now, I'm taking you home. Okay?"
They didn't speak until they got back to the apartment. Amid Blair's terrified questions and hovering presence Soul gently deposited Maka on the bed, got clean clothes from her drawers, and ran hot water into the bathtub. He filled Blair in on the bare details and made the magical cat promise to not leave Maka unsupervised.
Maka's voice stopped Soul halfway down the hallway. "You don't have to do this."
His response was curt, but full of guilt. "Yes I do."
"It won't fix anything."
"I can't do nothing, Maka. And I won't stand by and let some scumbag get away with this."
She was silent for a moment, then said, "Please...stay." The way she said it, her voice breaking with tears at the end, gave Soul reason enough to turn right around and stay by her side all night.
Revenge wouldn't help Maka heal. Only he could do that.
Ooo, that turned dark real quick.
And bonus omake! Because Soul's not the only protective one in that house...
"Stupid bitch," snarled the burly hoodlum as he tried for the tenth time to stand up straight. "Stupid goddamn bitch. When I find her again, I'm gonna teach her how a woman is supposed to take it from a man."
"Oh, I highly doubt that will happen."
The dark, sensuous female voice coming from the shadows had the hoodlum feeling both terrified and aroused. He looked all around for another person, but the only things around him were shadows. "Who's out there?"
"I don't like being serious. It's tedious and frankly, so not cute," said the female voice. "But since you're the only one here, I guess I can break character a little." The sigh that followed carried all the earmarks of a huff of boredom. "But I won't let Maka-chan's friends ruin all their hard work wiping a smear like you from existence. They don't deserve to become monsters because of you."
The hoodlum, now completely angry and somewhat unnerved, spun around to try and catch a glimpse of whomever was threatening him. "Come on out here and face me, you bitch!"
"Now me on the other hand?" When the voice seemed to come from right behind him, the hoodlum whirled around with his fists up. He saw two glowing eyes, enormous and slanted, with black pupils ringed with a thin band of gold. "I don't mind getting a little blood on my hands. Especially since you're probably going to be one very amusing wretch to play with."
The hoodlum yelped as something slammed into his side with the force of a boxer's punch. By the time he turned to face it, whatever had hit him had already retreated into the darkness. "Crazy bitch!"
"Ah, no imagination with insults, eh? How very boring."
"Who the fuck are you?" he yelled at the eyes.
"I'm just the friendly neighborhood monster," was the blithe response. The pupils thinned to slits as a large, white smile lit up the darkness. "And tonight, your blood and soul is mine."
Halfway across Death City, Soul and Maka slept peacefully in each other's arms. They didn't wake until sunrise, and when they did, it was to see Blair sleeping in a ball at the foot of Maka's bed.
Bright yellow eyes popped open. "Morning Maka-chan, Soul-kun!" she mewed. "Feeling better, nyah~? Bu-tan will make breakfast!" She hopped off the bed and transformed in a puff of smoke, leaving the dumbstruck pair lying in bed.
About to reach for a frying pan, Blair caught sight of traces of blood on her nails. She admired the last traces of her handiwork, then licked the digits clean.
They can never know what Bu-tan has done, thought the monster cat as she went about creating a good breakfast for the two youngsters she'd long considered her kittens. This is how Bu-tan protects her own.
I couldn't think of a good enough lie to get Soul into that much trouble, so faithful readers, use your imaginations!
And review before you go! Pretty please!