Maka is running out of time.
She snaps shut the book she was reading and shoves it into her backpack with a huff.
Stein looks over at her as he hands a customer their pizza. "Delving into the dark arts not as fun as you thought?"
"Not quite." She swallows her sigh. There are remnants of the rituals and traditions she used to practice with Mabaa but everything she has read is only mirrors and smoke, not fire. It's nothing that will help Soul, whose soul is steadily becoming darker with black blood with each passing day. He hasn't had another moment like he did a few days ago but with how quickly the black blood is taking over, it's only a matter of time.
Blair's words echo in her head. We all become myths one day. Maka had thought she understood what the familiar had meant but after traveling through the world for nearly a millennium and a half, she knows. The change had been subtle at first and it was only in the late 1600's that Maka had noticed but it rapidly became more pronounced and is more than apparent now-the acceptance of magic is only reserved for places like stage acts and movies like the ones Soul had shown her a few days ago. Insisting it exists in the real world earns nothing but sneers and disbelief as she had found out in Soul's eleventh life.
More than that, it's been a few lives since Maka's seen the traces of another witch's magic. The beasts and creatures of her original life have vanished as have any other sign that magic existed.
Quietly, a voice wonders if perhaps she is the only witch left, if all of the other witches had died without being able to reincarnate somehow. Maka silences the thought before it can take root. Two centuries had passed before Soul was reborn into his second life and she had never sought to find another witch in case she was stopped from following Soul so she doesn't know what happened in the aftermath of the war.
Her hands clench in her lap. It's impossible to imagine she's the only witch alive.
"You've gone somewhere."
Maka blinks and looks at Stein, who regards her over his book on children's developmental milestones with an impassive stare.
She ignores the hollow sadness settling in her throat, keeping her tone light. "I've gone to many places."
"So Soul has said," he answers. "There isn't much else he can say about you though."
Maka shifts guiltily in her seat. She's tried slipping in reminders of Soul's past life in their conversations whenever she can but about her life, she has remained vague to keep from knotting herself into a lie. "I'm not taking advantage of him."
"I'm not saying that and I don't think it either," Stein says mildly. "I've been watching, I can make my own conclusions."
She waits for him to continue but he says nothing. "What are you thinking then?"
"It's not for me to share specifics but it's been about a year since my godson retreated in himself," Stein answers, setting his book down. "You haven't known him long but I imagine you've seen what I mean."
It takes pressing her lips together to keep from correcting him but she nods.
"It's not something one person can fix nor something they should try to fix on their own." Stein's voice stays cool but his eyes flick to her books like he knows exactly what she's doing. "But it is good to see him finally poking his head out."
There's already a dull stinging in Maka's eyes and she has to stare down at the ground as it prods at her more forcefully. She can't deny there are moments Soul almost seems like himself again but she only has to look at his soul to know they're fleeting.
"I haven't done anything," she mumbles after a minute.
"Maybe," Stein acedes. "Maybe not. Depends what you're after."
She looks up, frowning. "What do you mean?"
"If you're looking to save someone, you're always going to end up disappointed." Stein opens up his book again. "You're either too late or too early."
"Too early?"
"Even when people know they've plummeted to rock-bottom, it takes them a minute lying there to decide they want to do something about it. In my case, it was about a decade," Stein answers, picking up a pen to make a note on his page. "The most you can do then is make sure they don't bury themselves there."
"And how do I do that?"
The drone of Soul's motorcycle as he returns to the shop fills the silence it takes for Stein to answer. "I would try asking them."
Maka holds a tissue to her nose, blood flowing from her nose with no signs of stopping, while Soul guides her to the bench running along the side of the basketball court. "Try tilting your head up a bit."
"I'm okay." She presses the tissue more firmly to her face as Soul peers into her eyes. "The basketball didn't hit me too hard."
"You got gobsmacked in the face." Liz's voice comes from behind her as she and Kid return with the first aid kit. "You're lucky you didn't get knocked out."
"I thought she was looking," Black Star says again as Kid pulls out a cold pack. It cracks as he bends it in half and hands it to Soul. "I wouldn't have thrown the ball if she wasn't."
"I was looking," Maka admits, wincing slightly when Soul pushes the pack below the bridge of her nose. "I just didn't move fast enough."
Taking the cold pack from Soul, she tentatively lowers the tissue, pressing it back when she feels a gush of blood. Maka glances at the group hovering over her. "I'm okay," she insists. "Go play."
Her words are enough to convince everyone except Soul, who takes a seat next to Maka instead. She frowns at him. "I'm fine."
"Even so." He hands her another tissue. "I wasn't in the mood for playing basketball anyways."
She takes the tissue, rolling her eyes. "You're stubborn."
A smile flickers on his face, gone before she can get a good look at it. "That's what I've been told."
"It still holds true." Maka glances away before he can see her disappointment. Hearing Soul's laugh after missing him lifetime after lifetime had filled her with a joy so sharp that it ached like grief. He hadn't done it again since Sunday and this is the first time she's seen him smile in the three weeks she's spent with him.
"My brother is coming back on Sunday."
Soul doesn't look at Maka as he speaks but she can see him peeking at her from the corner of his eye. "He got asked to stay for an extra tour but he wouldn't miss Marie's baby shower."
"Oh." She lowers the hand holding the tissue. A trickle of blood follows but she ignores it. "Do you want me to go today or tomorrow?"
Soul's eyes widen. "No, that wasn't what I met," he says quickly, turning to Maka. "Wes is laidback, I don't think he'll mind if you-"
He cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair. "Do you want to come to the party with me?"
Throughout dinner, Soul runs through several versions of explaining Maka to Wes when he comes home in two days, all of which go along the lines of Hello brother, I invited a complete stranger to stay in your apartment while you were gone only I think I do know her despite never seeing her before in my entire life.
By the time they've finished, he's still come up with nothing. He finally looks up as he begins to clear their plates and finds Maka studying him. "Something wrong?"
"What were you thinking about?" she asks, tilting her head.
He shrugs. "Nothing." He notices her frown before she can hide it. "What?"
Maka hesitates before answering. "You stay stuck in your head," she says. "A lot." She gives a shrug of her own. "I just want you to know I'm here."
She's said as much as what Black Star said on Sunday but that's not where the sudden sense of deja vu is coming from. The image flutters on the edge of Soul's mind-he can feel it though he can't quite see it.
He goes back to clearing the table. "I know that," he says and he believes it.
"Good," she says, taking the plates from his hands. "Remember to act like you do."
The spark in her eyes is all too familiar, further proof of the fact that he does know Maka. It was a notion he rejected when it first occurred to him on Sunday but maybe they'd met as kids and he'd just forgotten.
After their first meeting, he's hesitant to ask directly. Soul chews on his words as Maka washes the dishes and he dries them.
"Out of all of the places you've traveled," he asks as Maka hands him the last cup, "You've never visited here?"
Maka shakes her head. "The places I went to were more...distant."
"Not even as a child?"
A smile spreads across her lips. "Death City wasn't quite on the map then."
"I see." He asks another question to hide the strangeness of his first question. "Pick up any hobbies during your traveling?"
Maka dries her hands and leans against the counter. "Magic," she answers simply.
"Magic," he repeats and she nods. He lifts an eyebrow. "Mind showing me your favorite trick?" At the uncertainty on her face, he adds, "I even have a deck of cards, if you want."
She rolls her eyes at that. "Keep your cards."
He grins at her as she moves in front of him. "I'm expecting something impressive."
Maka stares at him before she answers, eyes moving across his face like she's trying to memorize it. "Close your eyes."
"And how do I know you won't cheat?"
She gives a small huff. "Hold out your hands."
He does that as well, palms facing skyward, and a jolt goes through him as Maka places her hands on his. "Satisfied?"
Soul swallows. "Possibly."
"Good." Maka taps her fingers against his palms, setting his skin buzzing. "Now open your eyes."
Tiny twinkling lights dance in a slow circle in Soul's kitchen, shining gold, then silver and back again. He spins around, trying to catch all of the lights, and as he does, the kitchen disappears and a forest takes its place instead.
When Soul looks back at Maka, however, they're in his kitchen and the lights have vanished. "Impressed?" she asks.
"How," is all he can say.
Maka grins. "Magic."
An illusion?" he guesses. He gazes around the kitchen again. "Right?"
Her smiles fades. "Right."
She's lying but he is exhausted suddenly, like he's ran a marathon though he's never even went out for a jog in his entire life. He meets Maka's eyes. "I think I'm going to go to bed early."
She shifts her weight from one foot to another but doesn't break their gaze. "Good night then."
"Good night." Soul doesn't move away, aware that her hands still rest in his.
For a long moment, they stare at each other. Then Maka moves forward, kissing his cheek.
She swerves around him and all but dashes out of the kitchen. "Good night!"
Soul's voice fails him as he stares after Maka but he's not sure he has words to begin with. Confused and mildly pleased best describes him as his fingers drift to where she kissed him.
Maka reminds him of what it could mean to live and he has no idea how he feels about it. Apathy and his nightmares still drowns his ability to feel in waves and if he had the choice to stop existing, he would probably take it but the slim chance that he wouldn't isn't something that's existed for a long time. And if he wouldn't, then was he as hopeless as he thought he was?
How much of the hell inside his head, a soft voice wonders quietly as Soul treks down the hallway to his room, is at his own insistence?
Maka's eyes fly open and she sits up, gasping.
Her heart pounds in her chest as her gaze darts around the room but she sees nothing but what should be there. Then a new wave of panic that isn't her own sweeps through Maka and she flings off her blankets.
Feeling the beat of a soul is normal for soul magic but she's rarely felt another person's emotions and, with Soul, she can't tell if it's because of her magic or because of his curse.
It's why she bursts in his room, half-expecting to see a ball of black blood where his bed is but instead, she sees only Soul, flailing wildly.
"Soul!" Calling his name does nothing nor does shaking his shoulder. Maka grabs his arm when he nearly smacks her in the face, her other hand going to his face. "Wake up!"
At her touch, Soul's legs stop kicking but he still struggles. It takes calling his name a few more times before his eyes open. There is a sheen of sweat on his forehead and when his gaze lands on Maka, he begins to ramble. "You were there, with me, and you were dying and I couldn't do an-"
"I'm not." Maka brushes his hair back, free hand moving to interlock with his. "It was a nightmare."
"It wasn't." Soul shakes his head a few times. His gaze is focused on something Maka can't see and she feels his heartbeat pulse in his fingertips as he tightens his hand around hers. "I know my nightmares."
"I've known you for a while," he says after a minute of silence. "For lives."
"Yes." Maka breathes out. It's what she's wanted to hear for so long but her happiness is bittersweet. "But you won't remember this in the morning."
He frowns. "Why?"
"You never remember anything after a nightmare," she says. "You told me once."
His frown deepens. "I did?"
Her heart twists. "A long time ago."
Soul grows pensive and then he looks at her again. "Will you stay?"
Being close to Soul has always been impossible to resist and she stands with some difficulty, hand still wrapped in his. "Scoot over."
Soul watches Maka with the sharp kind of alertness of someone who is desperately trying to stay awake as she slides next to him, pulling the blankets over herself. She closes her eyes but after a few minutes of still feeling his gaze on her face, she opens them again. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to stay awake so I'll remember you."
Her lips curve into a smile despite herself. "It's not going to work."
He yawns. "Still worth a try."
Sleep wins minutes later when Soul's eyes slide shut. The smile on Maka's face remains as she listens to his breathing even out into the slow and steady rhythm of sleep but the taste in her mouth is sour. She tucks her head in the crook of his shoulder and closes her eyes.
It'll be different, Maka promises him and herself as she squeezes his hand. It's going to be different this time.
When Maka wakes up in the morning, she has her arm flung around Soul and her head is laying on chest. Soul is still asleep, his soulbeat muffled underneath the black blood but quiet and steady.
She tries to move away quietly but something around her neck pulls and she looks down to find her necklace tangled with Soul's. Biting back her laugh, she works her necklace free, Soul muttering inaudibly as Maka finally extracts herself from the bed.
Warmth blooms in her chest as she watches him. He had remembered her, incompletely and only for a minute, but he had remembered her.
The sound of a door creaking open makes her spin around.
Maka recognizes the man standing in the doorway, although he doesn't recognize her.
"Ah," Wes says. "Hello."