And so it went.

The sun rose, and the sun set, just as it always had, and just as it always would. In the same manner, the world continued to turn, its people carrying on in the only way they knew how.

That's not to say, of course, that nothing changed.

Although the world continued to turn, Maka Albarn felt as though its axis had shifted. How it was that a man had captured her attention so thoroughly in only a few short weeks, she would never know, but Soul Evans had done it. While she wasn't a woman to let a man distract her from her career and ambitions, the thought of seeing him in the evenings got her through many a grueling day of paperwork at Stein & Gorgon. Even Medusa Gorgon's sharp tongue couldn't keep her down for long.

They had gone to the pictures and had dinner at nice restaurants as well as small diners. They had taken simple strolls through Central Park and the streets of New York and gone dancing at the Savoy as well as the Shibusen on nights Spartoi wasn't playing. There had been double dates with Blake and Tsubaki, chaste kisses in doorways and slightly less chaste kisses in darkened alleyways.

It was thrilling, and despite her initial misgivings, Maka wouldn't have traded it for anything else – wouldn't have traded Soul for anyone else. While she learned he found it hard to be open with his emotions, he was sweet and earnest and had some witty remark about nearly everything, even if it was often said so quietly it went unheard. He threw himself into learning the Lindy Hop with alacrity in an effort to please her, and while he wasn't nearly to her skill level, he improved enough that it was actually fun to dance with him.

It was in this way that the following months passed in a whirlwind of romance, excitement, and big band jazz music.

Maka felt as though she were on cloud nine. The lingering threat of the war overseas remained; however, in her distraction, its presence in her thoughts had decreased drastically.

But even if it hadn't, there was no way she could have predicted how the inevitable would come about.

December 7, 1941.

It was a date that would live in infamy. The speech might not be given until the next day, but the very moment Maka heard the interruption to the radio broadcast of the Giants football game in the diner where she and Soul were eating lunch, she didn't need a speech from the president to tell her the obvious.

"We interrupt this broadcast to bring you this important bulletin," the radio announcer said. "Flash. Washington. The White House announces Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. Stay tuned … for further developments.

Maka felt both fear and dread creep into her chest and grip her heart with their icy fingers. She glanced up at Soul immediately, only to find him frozen and staring back at her with his fork hovering just above his plate. Neither said anything. Neither could say anything, even as the eerie stillness that had washed over the diner broke into hushed whispers that built to frantic conversation.

"Tsubaki."

It was the only word that Maka could force past her lips, but in the three months they had been dating, she and Soul had developed such an understanding of each other that Soul knew exactly what it was she meant.

Tsubaki, whose immediate family had immigrated from Japan shortly before her birth. Tsubaki, who dealt with racism enough as it was already. Tsubaki, who had been against the United States joining the war since the beginning. Tsubaki, who had the day off from her waitressing job and was currently alone in the apartment, and who shouldn't have to deal with this news by herself.

"Yeah," Soul said. "Let's go."

They quickly paid their bill and rushed out of the restaurant, leaving their food only half-finished. They were not the only ones to do so – several others left with them, undoubtedly to find their family and friends as well. Maka watched silently. How would this affect each one of them? Had she been foolish to want the United States to get involved?

Outside, the streets were as they always were. People walked with no big hurry – it was a Sunday, after all – and there was none of the mayhem or solemnity that Maka had expected there would be. But then again, she realized, the papers had already been printed and distributed. Anyone who had been outside wouldn't have heard the radio announcement, and even then, it was unlikely that every radio station had broadcasted the news at the same time.

Maka and Soul raced back to Maka's apartment as fast as they could without calling attention to themselves. Once they reached the building, all reservations were cast aside as they ran up the stairs. They passed Mrs. Blair on the way, ignoring her call for them to slow down. A minute later, they burst into Maka's apartment.

"Maka?" Tsubaki asked in Japanese from where she stood in the kitchen. "You're home early. Is everything all right?" She looked up, and a look of surprise crossed her face. "And … Soul?" she said, switching to English, "What are you doing here?"

"You don't know," Maka said, catching her breath. "You didn't hear."

"Know what?" Tsubaki asked as she came over to them. "Maka, what's going on?"

"It's – it's –"

"You might want to sit down," Soul said with a wry twist of his lips.

The three of them walked slowly to the small living area, where they all took a seat. At last, Maka found it in her to speak.

"It's Japan," she said quietly. "There was an attack on Pearl Harbor in Hawaii. The Japanese did it."

Tsubaki could only stare, her eyes flicking between both Maka and Soul. "You're telling the truth?" she asked meekly.

Both Soul and Maka nodded.

"We're … going to war?" she asked, even more quietly.

Soul sighed in resignation. "Most likely."

"Oh."

"We didn't want you to be alone when you found out," Maka said, shifting closer to Tsubaki so she could put an arm around her. "I know that your family –"

"The hell with my family," Tsubaki said angrily, fighting tears. "We're American. I'm American, I always have been. But – but –"

"But not everyone will see it that way," Soul finished somberly. "You look different, like them, and so as far as anyone else is concerned, you're with them."

Tsubaki nodded miserably, and Maka pulled her closer. Everyone was silent for a few minutes as they tried to comprehend the enormity of what had happened earlier that afternoon. It was Tsubaki who broke the silence with a mumble, and Maka had to ask her to repeat what it was she said.

"Are you happy now?" Tsubaki asked vindictively. "You've got your war. Isn't this what you wanted?"

Maka felt the jab like a spear to the heart, but she couldn't blame Tsubaki for her words. Not with the state of emotional distress she was in. Not when her words carried a fair amount of truth.

"Not like this," she murmured, feeling the comforting press of a leg against hers as Soul sat down on her other side. "Never like this."

"Then like what?"

It was a question for which Maka didn't have an answer. "I don't know," she said truthfully. "I don't know."

Soul kissed the top of her head, and the three of them sat there for a long while, simply holding each other. None of them spoke platitudes. It wasn't okay. They shouldn't wait and see. It wasn't going to be fine, and they all knew it. So they sat there in the silence of the apartment, trying to avoid thinking about what would happen next.

What happened next, of course, was a very loud thump against the front door. All three of them jumped; Maka cracked her head against Soul's chin. That one thump was then followed by even more insistent thumping, before a very familiar voice called out.

"Tsubaki? Tsubaki, are you there?"

The three of them laughed weakly. "Blake," they all said together as Tsubaki pushed herself off the couch to go answer the door. Maka and Soul didn't move, but they could hear the conversation from where they were.

"Are you okay?" Blake asked Tsubaki, and then kissed her. "I came as soon as I could."

"I will be," Tsubaki said diplomatically. "Maka and Soul are here, too. They're the ones that told me."

"Oh, good."

Tsubaki came back into the living area, Blake trailing behind her. "Looks like we're all here," she said with a weak smile. "How about that?"

Blake surveyed the room, then nodded firmly. "We should go dancing tonight. It'll do us no good to stay holed up in here like a couple'a crumbs, after all." A large grin spread across his face. "Then we can beat the shit outta anyone who even looks at Tsubaki wrong."

Maka looked to Soul, who shrugged. "It's as good a plan as any."

And that was how, on the night of December 7, 1941, Maka found herself getting kicked out of the Savoy.

It was a date that would live in infamy, indeed.

But through everything, life carried on. The United States and Great Britain declared war on Japan, just as everyone knew they would. Christmas came and went, bringing with it a much-needed sense of cheer and merriness, even if it was severely dampened in light of recent events. The ball dropped in Times Square, ushering in a new year of uncertainty, and Soul kissed Maka at the turn of 1942.

There was no telling what the year would bring, but he would at least begin it well.

January followed, and without the cheery atmosphere of Christmas to bolster spirits, the snowy streets were simply cold and dreary. Gone were the warm, carefree August evenings, and as Blake hacked his lungs out on their trek back to their apartments after work, Soul longed to return to those days.

He longed to return to those days when retrieving his mail each morning didn't fill him with a sense of dread. Those days when every day that passed without him receiving his draft notice didn't feel like borrowed time.

Blake had already received his, only to be turned away with a IV-F due to the severity of his asthma after the physical examination. He pretended to be upset about not being allowed to fight for his country, but Soul knew he was secretly relieved. Soul was relieved as well; after all, someone had to stay behind and look after the girls.

Although neither Soul nor Blake were among them, the first American forces arrived in Great Britain on the twenty-sixth of January.

It was amazing how quickly the American public threw themselves into the war effort, Soul thought, given how isolationist the country had been up until the attack on Pearl Harbor and President Roosevelt declaring war. He did his part where he could, as did Blake and Tsubaki and Maka, but for the most part his part continued to be helping New Yorkers forget about the war for a while when they stepped inside the Shibusen dance hall.

Maka's favorite dance partner, don't-call-me-Mortimer Kidd, shipped out at the beginning of February, as did Kilik Rung and Ox Ford, two of Soul's bandmates. The disappearance of their friends and his constant fear of receiving the draft were probably the most hard-hitting aspects of the war, at least for the moment.

Everything changed on the nineteenth of February with President Roosevelt's Executive Order 9066, although none of them were immediately aware of it.

Then, news started trickling in about the relocation of Japanese Americans to internment camps on the west coast. Soul could only watch helplessly as Maka worried about her family, about her Japanese mother back in Nevada. Her father was white, but she worried he and her mother would be separated.

"Which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, in her opinion," Maka groused to him as they sat in his shitty apartment. "She doesn't love him anymore; I know she stayed with him for both his sake and mine. But for Papa … since the Great War, he's just been a shell of the man he was. Last I saw him, he was drunk nearly all the time, and when he's drunk, he's helpless. If they're separated, he won't be able to take care of himself."

"And what about Tsubaki's family?" Soul asked.

Maka sighed. "They'll be fine. They'll end up together if they get relocated, at least. I should be more concerned, but they always ignored her in favor of her brother. He bullied her, but they always turned a blind eye to it. Tsubaki didn't have any plans for once we got to Connecticut – she just wanted to get away from her parents."

Soul snorted. "Yeah, I know that feeling," he said. "All too well."

Maka kissed him then, and for a time, they were well and truly distracted from the matter.

It wasn't until a couple weeks later, when they were sitting on the couch in Maka's apartment, that Maka said she had received a letter from her mother. It was short, simple, and to the point, but it eased the anxiety caused by not knowing. Kami and Spirit Albarn were fine, albeit under stricter regulations than should have been necessary. Kami had been required to register, and they had been told to turn in any weapons and short-wave radios they owned. The Nakatsukasas had been relocated to a camp in California, but Kami didn't have any other information past that.

"Well," Maka said after Soul had read through the letter, "I guess it's a good thing they never divorced. Mama probably would have been relocated if she hadn't been married to a white man."

"It's not right," Soul said after a moment, handing the letter back to her.

"No, it's not!" Maka exclaimed, jumping to her feet as she finally lost her composure. "They're Americans – just like Tsubaki! Just like me! How dare the government do this!"

"Because they're the government, and they can," Soul said drily.

There was silence for several long moments as Maka reread the letter she held in her hands. When at last the silence was broken, it was Maka who spoke.

"I want to fight."

"What?"

Maka crumpled the letter and tossed it onto the end table. "I want to fight. It's not fair that you and Blake and Kidd all have to worry about being drafted, when all I'm expected to do is to put my 'best face forward.' I could do so much more than file papers at a legal office all day!"

"But what about Tsubaki?"

Maka fixed him with a glare. "Tsubaki can take care of herself. Besides, she'd still have Blake and Mrs. Blair to look after her. Please, Soul, you have to understand where I'm coming from."

The problem was, Soul did. He understood full well where Maka was coming from, because he'd been having similar thoughts as of late. As he played with Spartoi each evening, his somber mood became more and more at odds with the vibrant atmosphere. Was playing the piano really doing his part? He enjoyed it, but like Maka said, he felt like he could be doing so much more.

When combined with the near-crippling anxiety he felt as he fetched his mail each morning, the idea of enlisting became more and more appealing. He had already talked to Blake about it, but had yet to broach the subject with Maka. She was, after all, the only thing really holding him back. At the same time, he didn't want her to feel like he would choose the war over her, because that wasn't the case at all.

"Soul?" Maka asked, peering curiously at him as she sat back down. "You got all quiet all of a sudden. Are you okay? Is it … about what I said?"

"What? No," he said quickly. "No, that's not it at all. I really do understand where you're coming from." After a moment, he added, "Perhaps a bit too well."

"What do you mean?" It was phrased as a question, but the tone of her voice suggested she knew exactly what he meant. After all, the understanding they'd had between them back in December had only strengthened in the intervening months.

"I've been thinking of enlisting," Soul said resignedly. He removed his fedora and ran a hand over slicked-back hair, wanting nothing more than to mess it up. He refrained from doing so as he continued, "This waiting is killing me. I'm going to receive my summons at some point, it's just a matter of time. And it's as you said – I could be doing so much more than just playing the piano."

Maka simply nodded, entirely unsurprised. She said nothing in response, but tucked herself in closer to his side. They were silent for several moments, listening to only the sounds of their breathing and the apartment. Tsubaki was off trying to find work, as she'd been fired from her waitressing job in the wake of the attack on Pearl Harbor, so it was only the two of them. The silence stretched on.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Just promise me two things."

"And what two things are those?"

She turned to him and looked him dead in the eye as she counted off on her fingers. "Don't die, and don't win the war until I get there."

Soul smiled fondly. "I'll do my best," he said, and kissed her.

Not a week later, Solomon 'Soul' Evans enlisted in the United States Army. He received his summons for basic training only a couple weeks later, in late March of 1942. Maka tried to be positive about it. It was only ten weeks, she tried to tell herself, only ten weeks before she would see him again. She tried to ignore the fact that it would only be for a few days before he was sent off to Europe for a couple years, at the very least.

Their six-month anniversary had come and gone quietly, and Maka could hardly believe they had already been together for half a year. At the same time, she could hardly imagine her life without him at this point. He had integrated himself so seamlessly, and now, with him gone, Maka wasn't entirely sure what to do with herself.

She worked by day and danced by night, unable to handle the thought of sitting still. She received letters from Soul at basic and wrote letters in return. He was stationed at Camp Upton, which wasn't too far away, located on the east of Long Island as it was. This almost made the separation worse, knowing he was so close but yet so far.

Maka wasn't about to let it break her. She might not be able to enlist, but she could soldier on with the best of them.

Things weren't easy at home. Tensions rose as it became clear that Americans would be affected at home by the war overseas. Tsubaki had yet to find work, and was more likely to have slurs tossed in her face than to receive a friendly word. Maka had nearly been arrested several times for defending her friend, and regretted none of them. She wrote about it to Soul, who didn't even try to ask her to stop.

That's my girl, one particular letter read. It went on to explain how he told stories of her at basic, and how all the single men were jealous. I haven't told them of your encounters in defending Tsubaki, however. Some here are less … open-minded than we are. I should come clean. I hate to admit it, but to them, you're Mary. I couldn't afford to be shunned by everyone here at camp for being in cahoots with, and I quote, "those fucking Japs."

The words had hurt, but far less than hearing them hurled at Tsubaki out of some asshole's mouth at the Shibusen. The dance scene blurred race barriers when it came to blacks and whites, but hadn't been nearly as forgiving when Tsubaki stood out like a sore thumb, especially after the attack on American soil by the Japanese.

Still, she could no more fault Soul for making the decision he had than she could fault Blake for not doing his duty in serving the country. I understand, she had written back. That's just the way things are these days, and you need those men's support. If it helps, I can sign my letters as 'Mary' from now on, in order to keep the truth from getting out.

Soul insisted it wasn't necessary, but she signed that letter, and every one after it, as Mary Albarn.

This was how she cooled her heels for weeks. March became April, and April passed without much excitement. At one point, Maka turned in her old toothpaste tube in exchange for a new one. Nights at the dance hall continued to be the highlights of her week.

"Maka," Tsubaki said in Japanese one morning in May, as she came in the door after her trip to the corner store, "you might want to look at this."

She held a flyer in one hand, the other grasping the paper grocery bag she carried. Maka immediately stood and grabbed the bag from her, placing it on the kitchen counter before engaging Tsubaki in conversation.

"What is it?" she replied in the same language. Curiously, she took the piece of paper from her roommate. As she looked it over, she could hardly believe what it was she was seeing. It was a flyer for the Women's Auxiliary Army Corps, asking for volunteers.

"You've been talking about how you want to … help," Tsubaki said. "I might not like the idea of fighting myself, but I knew you should see this."

"I –" Maka stumbled over her words. "Thank you, 'Baki. I know you don't think this is a good idea, but I want to do something."

The flyer was straightforward. For your country's sake today – For your own sake tomorrow, it read. Go to the nearest recruiting station of the armed services of your choice. Four women in military dress stared patriotically off into the distance.

"I'll go today," Maka decided. "I've had it with sitting around and doing nothing."

It turned out the application was nearly as straightforward as the flyer. The only requirements were that the applicant was a US citizen, between twenty-one and forty-five years old, had no dependents, weighed at least one hundred pounds, and was at least five feet tall. Maka barely squeaked by the last couple, but she did meet the requirements.

She bit her bottom lip as she stared down at the form. After a moment's hesitation, she penned her name as she had penned it so many times before. Mary Albarn. She wondered if she should be lying to the government; the answer was probably not, as falsifying enlistment forms was a federal offense.

That didn't change the fact that there were other things to consider. Maka knew she didn't look Japanese, with her green eyes and ashy blonde hair. Her skin may have been a few shades darker than average, the shape of her features and the texture of her hair slightly less European, but experience had taught her that these things were often overlooked if they weren't being looked for in the first place, especially out here on the east coast.

Her name, though, was enough to make her other Japanese features stand out. She didn't want to face the discrimination that she would surely encounter if she joined up with her real name. As she filled out the rest of the form entirely truthfully with her education and work history, she silently thanked Soul for his unintended foresight.

On July 20, 1942, Mary Albarn would become a part of the first officer candidate training class of 440 women in Fort Des Moines, Iowa.

In the meantime, Soul came home from basic training in the beginning of June; it was a day he had been waiting eagerly for since the moment he left the chaos of New York City for the structured order of Camp Upton. He missed the city. He missed playing the piano with Spartoi, and he missed the energy of the dance halls. He missed late-night burgers in small diners. He even missed his shitty little apartment and his rambunctious neighbor.

Most of all, though, his missed his sweetheart.

Lost in his thoughts as he was, it took him a second to realize he had reached his destination. Thanking the cabbie as he handed over the bills to cover his fare, he stepped out of the cab to find himself standing in front of the Stein & Gorgon building. The noise of the city washed over him, and he felt himself relax for the first time in months.

Taking a deep breath, he checked the watch on his wrist. His timing had been nearly impeccable – Maka would be walking out those doors in half an hour's time, and he intended to be there waiting for her. She knew he was coming home today, but he hadn't been able to give her a time when he wrote his last letter.

He set his bag down by his feet, straightened his cap, brushed imaginary dirt off olive green sleeves, and settled in to wait.

He spent the next half hour smiling tightly at passersby, nodding at those who acknowledged him and thanked him for his service to the country. It was only after much of the time had passed that he realized he had settled into parade rest unconsciously. To the outside observer, he looked every inch the noble American soldier in his uniform.

Only he could feel his toes tapping inside the polished dress shoes he wore.

At last, people began to stream out of Stein & Gorgon's doors. Soul shifted his weight between his feet as he felt his heart begin to race. He was almost there. It wouldn't be much longer until he saw Maka again. He knew she usually ran late, but he also suspected that she would be unable to keep herself from rushing out, knowing as she did that he was coming home today.

Sure enough, it was only a couple minutes later that he saw her. She wore an elegant shirtwaist dress, the front part of her hair done up in rolls with the rest of it contained in a snood, as it usually was during the day. She claimed it was the only way she could keep the curls from falling out of her hair completely before the day was over.

He watched as she looked around, and for a second her gaze flitted over him before moving on. A smile grew on his face as she stopped in her tracks, turning back to him in a double-take. By the time she was hurrying towards him, he was full-out beaming.

"Soul!" she cried, and within moments her arms were wrapped around him, and his around her. Laughing, he picked her up and twirled her around before setting her back on her feet and kissing her.

"Surprise?" he said as he pulled away.

"You're back," was the only thing she could say in response. "How long are you here for?"

Soul picked up his bag and slung it back on his shoulder before taking her hand. "A week," he said solemnly, although the grin on his face diminished only slightly. "They said we were lucky – some only get a couple days between basic and being shipped out."

Maka made a face. "That's still not very long," she said, tightening her grip on his hand. "I guess we're going to have to make the most of it."

Soul's thoughts turned immediately to the small black box that lay nestled at the bottom of his bag. He had stopped at a small jewelry store once he'd gotten back in the city, something he'd been planning to do for weeks now. Somehow, that tiny box weighed more than all his other possessions combined.

Now, he had only a week in which to find an opportunity to give it to her.

"Soul?"

Soul suddenly realized he had gotten lost in his train of thought. "Huh? Sorry. Yeah, we will."

And they did. They went dancing several nights that week. They went out to dinner both at nice restaurants and cheap diners. They double dated with Blake and Tsubaki, and they did dinner at home with the four of them. That week, whenever Maka and Blake weren't at work, the four of them were together.

None of them mentioned the fact that they might never be together like this again. After all, it wasn't only Soul that was leaving – Maka would be leaving to join the military as well.

The ring box burned a hole in Soul's pocket. He kept waiting for the right moment to pop the question, but that moment never came. It didn't help that he was terrified. Absolutely, god-awfully terrified. These past few months had been like a spot of heaven in the face of hell, but as Soul ventured into hell itself, he didn't know if Maka would want to follow.

What if she met someone else while she was with the WAAC? What if, in light of their separation, she realized she could do so much better than an estranged music school dropout?

In the end, he had to tell himself that he had nothing to lose. If she turned him down, he would be in Europe for the next few years, at least, and would be so concentrated on other matters to really have time to wallow in sadness. He also knew she wouldn't be one to keep him hanging if she did happen to meet someone else.

And so, on his last night stateside, he laid it all out on the table – quite literally, in fact.

The day had been wonderful. The group of four had gone to see a matinée picture, Yankee Doodle Dandy, which had been a lighthearted musical piece. They had then gotten a bite to eat before making their way to the Shibusen. Soul had smiled as they walked inside; he had very good memories of this place.

That had been a couple hours ago, and while Soul had done some dancing, he was currently standing off to the side of the dance floor, watching Maka grin exuberantly as her dance partner swung her out. His fingers toyed with the little box in his jacket pocket. He needed to ask her tonight, and where better than the very place he had met her?

It was a little noisier than he would have liked, but it would have to do.

He was silently rehearsing what he wanted to say. He had been practicing all week, actually. Sometimes silently, sometimes to himself, and sometimes to Blake, who had become his roommate and taken his piano since Soul had sold his apartment before leaving for basic. After all, it wasn't worth paying the rent if he wasn't going to be living there for the next couple years.

And so, as he had been wont to do this past week, Soul quickly lost himself in thought. So far gone was he, in fact, that he didn't notice Maka walking over to him until it was too late.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Soul jumped, yanking his hand from his pocket as he turned to her. Unfortunately, he yanked his hand out a little too fast, a little too hard. He could only freeze in horror as the little black box tumbled out of his pocket to land on the wooden floor.

Well, shit.

It was too late to do anything about it. Maka had already seen it – he could tell by the way her eyes went wide, by the way she glanced down at the tiny box sitting innocuously on the floor before staring back at him.

"What? Soul?"

Soul smiled weakly, for all he could feel himself getting hot and flustered. That sense of crushing dread settled in his stomach, and he desperately tried to stammer out something – anything – to help him save face.

"I, uh," he said, beginning to crouch down to grab the box. "I thought, uhm." He winced when Maka picked it up before he could get to it, and his smile turned into more of a grimace. "This is not the way I wanted this to go."

Maka peered down at the box she held in her hands. "May I?" she asked tentatively, moving as if to open it.

Soul shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. He could feel the tips of his ears burning as he said, "Yeah."

She carefully opened the ring box, and Soul tried desperately to catalogue her expression. He knew what the ring looked like. It wasn't much, wasn't fancy. It was just a gold band with a single stone pressed into it, but he'd thought it was simple and elegant and something Maka would like. Something that wouldn't get in the way once she shipped out to the WAAC.

But, for once, he couldn't read her. She was silent for several seconds, until suddenly she said, "Well?"

"W-well?"

Maka fixed him with that glare that meant he should know what she was talking about. "Well? Are you going to ask me or not?"

Just take that rhythm, give it everything you got. The band's vocalist sang on around them, as if taunting him.

"Oh! Uh," Soul stammered eloquently, "yeah. Yeah, I am. Uh, well. These past few months have been everything I'd never really dreamed about. I saw you dancing my first night with Spartoi and I bungled my notes in Sing, Sing, Sing because I wasn't really paying attention to the music anymore. And, uh, well, I know that I'm leaving. And I know that you're leaving. And I know this is a lot to ask."

"You haven't even asked me anything yet," Maka teased, a twinkle in her eye.

It was in that moment that Soul knew what her answer would be. He took a deep breath and relaxed as a wave of relief washed away the tension that he had felt for almost a week.

"Maka Albarn," he said quietly, "I don't want to cause a scene, so I won't get down on my knees – not now, at least – but. I love you. When everything is said and done, after we win this war in Europe and pound Hitler into the dirt, will you marry me?"

Maka smiled, plucked the ring out of the box, and handed it to him. He panicked for a split second. Was she actually turning him down after all? He realized how silly he was being when she held out her hand for him to slide the ring onto her finger.

"Yes, Soul, of course I will. I love you too, and everything else don't mean a thing."

He kissed her right there on the side of the dance floor, and everything was perfect.

"You know," Maka said as they pulled apart, "Tsubaki said she probably won't be home tonight. Do you wanna get out of here?"

"A-are you sure?"

"Yes."

After that night, neither Soul nor Maka would see the inside of the Shibusen again for several years to come.