He never said a word about leaving. This fascinated her.
What Maka understood about Soul's past - aside from the fact that he didn't enjoy talking about it - was that he'd felt he needed to do some adventuring, look for a career away from his wealthy family. But he hadn't been traveling for more than a few days when he came to Crescent Isle; it hardly qualified as an "adventure".
Yet he'd stuck around anyway.
He seemed to stay fairly busy for someone who was so lazy. He worked on slowly upgrading and further personalizing the Little Demon, and he worked on mastering magic as she had suggested. He also continued helping her with the Angel, sometimes with and sometimes without vociferous whining.
She couldn't help but be extremely aware that she found him attractive, either because he was a mystery and she loved mysteries or because he wasn't actually that hard to figure out and she loved pensive, thoughtful people.
She hoped he wasn't like her father. Though, of course, it wouldn't matter - even if he did show a more clear romantic interest in her, it would be far too awkward for either of them to make any moves at this point.
She patiently stopped asking about his family and where he came from. By contrast, she aired all her family's dirty laundry to him within the first three months, although that was because she was so angry she couldn't hide it, especially not from someone who saw her angry every day. He took it in stride, soon stopped trying to offer solutions and simply became an active listener, which she greatly appreciated.
One afternoon at the bazaar, they ran into her father; he was drunk and on a date, always a winning combination. It wasn't the first time Soul saw her father in person, but it would be the first time they spoke.
"Makaaaa, sweetie! See, 'Risa, this is Maka! My daughter! Maka, c'mere, lemme introduce you," Spirit said more loudly than necessary. The brunette at his side tittered nervously, clearly more savvy to Maka's feelings than Spirit himself.
"No, I'm not staying. And don't call me your daughter," Maka growled. Spirit looked stricken.
"But you are my daughter," he said, voice genuine and innocent. "You know I-"
"Yeah, nice to meet you too, buddy," Soul interrupted, "but I'm gonna have to side with your - with Maka on this one. We really gotta be going."
"Who are you?" Spirit demanded, becoming much more serious, squinting as he he acknowledged her...friend for the first time. "You a boyfriend or something?"
"No," Maka answered, and it stung more than she would have predicted just to say that. Pushing down her sense of dread and curiosity about what Soul thought of all this, she continued. "We're working together on the Angel and we have to go meet someone. 'Bye now."
Surprisingly, her father did not pursue the matter. He looked defeated and let them go.
When they were a safe distance away, Maka confided, "Now I feel like I've crossed a line. Telling him not to call me his daughter."
Soul shrugged. "It sounds like you two have a complicated relationship and he doesn't always uphold his - well, fatherly role very well. I probably can't blame you."
Maka looked into his eyes then, for sincerity's sake. "Thank you, Soul. It's nice just being able to vent. I've been told I was being too mean before."
"Well, what are you gonna do? The guy certainly can't take a hint," Soul grinned.
Her feeling that Soul was a safe place of sorts was only bolstered over time.
"I was supposed to be a musician," Soul blurted one afternoon, half a year after their meeting. He was painting a bit of the trim on the Angel while she planned out the cabin's structure on paper.
Maka looked up from her plans in surprise. "Oh? Where did that come from?"
"Well, that's what my family does. They're all musicians. My brother is a violinist, my father a cellist, my mother a flutist. And that's not all - as far back as we know, my relatives have been involved with music somehow. They have an entire business around it, performing, producing content, and even making instruments."
"I see. That's interesting, although I was wondering more why you decided to say it all of a sudden."
He shrugged. "Felt like I should. You tell me everything."
Yeah, it was true - he could at least tell her something. And "something" he had told - but she found out even more against his will a few weeks later.
They were on their way from the Little Demon to the Angel, Maka leading the way, when someone from behind demanded their attention.
"Soul?! Is that you?" barked the deep voice of an older man. Maka turned in time to catch the mortified expression on her friend's face before he, too, faced the stranger.
"Hello, Dad," Soul said warily. His father was a tall, tanned man with his white hair coiffed and dark, maroon-red eyes. His dimpled chin was set more firmly than Soul's. He did not slouch, and there was no devil-may-care smirk. Also, his fine clothes were wildly out of place here.
Maka marveled that Soul had come from that. He must have made some serious wardrobe adjustments before arriving at Crescent Isle. She began to step forward in a polite effort to introduce herself, but the father was fixated on his son.
"I didn't know you were here," he was saying. "Your letters made it sound like you were farther away and in a...classier place, I suppose."
Maka almost lost her temper right there, but reined it in when she saw Soul's eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he glanced at her. "I - you don't - this is a pretty nice island," he stammered.
Sensing the nature of the tension between the two men, Maka advanced more toward the older one and held out her hand. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Maka Albarn, future captain of the airship Angel. Soul showed up here a while ago and said he was looking for work so I convinced him to work with me on building it. You should be proud - he catches on quick. And he's very creative."
Soul's father shook her hand and nodded, still looking doubtful. Nonetheless, his grip was firm, and after their handshake broke naturally, he put his hand on his son's shoulder. Soul shifted anxiously.
"I wish you the best, and if they were here your mother and brother would do the same," said his father. "You appear to be self-sufficient now, so we can't tell you how to live anymore. Stay in touch."
"That was weird. Why is he here?" Maka muttered as the man left.
Soul shrugged. "Dunno. Sometimes the parental units travel far to buy stuff or do business. Faraway performances, that sort of thing. I bet he was stopping here to restock. Should've known.
There was a brief, comfortable silence.
"Thanks, by the way," he added in a hushed murmur, "for making most of the conversation. Talking to my parents can be tricky, you never know whether they're going to be cool or give you unwanted advice."
He swears there's something weird about the wind.
No matter how they frantically dash about to fix the sails, how they turn the wheel back and forth, they're being blown toward the Dark Rift.
The arcwhale is nowhere to be seen, and the distance between the Little Demon and the Rift is shrinking at an alarming rate. The long mass of dark gray and black towers above them and the wind blows in whichever direction will take them closer. It seems to change according to the positioning of the sails.
For a few moments, they stand on the deck, helpless and frustrated. Doing nothing doesn't slow their progress toward the darkness, however. Maka makes a dash to the spinnaker chute, once again looking to try rearranging the sails.
He really isn't looking forward to asking Maka of all people to stop fighting, but this isn't working and they need to regroup.
"Maka!" Soul shouts. "Get inside! Go into the cabin!" He doesn't wait for her to acquiesce, but instead runs toward her to pull her arm.
"Soul! We can't do anything in there," she says, pulling back.
"We can't do anything out here, either."
Maka opens her mouth to argue, but then glances back toward the Rift. She reaches a silent decision and allows him to pull her to the cabin door. She tugs him after as he ushers her inside, and the door slams behind them.
With no one holding the wheel and no one pulling the rigging, the Little Demon starts to roll out of control. Everything that isn't nailed down in the cabin tips over ominously, the lighter items such as the small drinking glasses already broken on the floor.
It's also hard for humans to balance, so they stumble toward the nearest bunk door. There should be few loose objects in the bunks.
Theirs happens to be on the starboard side. Maka climbs onto the thin mattress of the bunk and pulls Soul into the massive, unmade bundle of covers.
"For padding," she explains in a stage whisper, but she doesn't need to.
As the turbulence around the ship reaches a new high, Soul and Maka cling to each other, jammed against the corner of the tiny bunk in a mess of blankets. He's sure she can hear his teeth grinding as he clenches them, just as he can hear her heavy breathing. He smells her hair and skin and his mind flashes back to just the other day when they embraced on Crescent Isle. That, too, had been frightening, but nothing like this, and it feels like a scene from someone else's life.
Though neither can see it without a window, the darkness of the Rift closes around them.
They practiced magic for months and months. Maka was - how could he describe it? - enthusiastic. She often dragged him off to even-smaller, uninhabited islands surrounding Crescent Isle, arguing that it was fine to learn a spell in a peaceful place like the deck of the Angel or the small town green, but the way to truly master it was to use it in the heat of battle.
"Mama always taught me that magic is channeled through your psyche, so if you put yourself under pressure, you'll learn more and work faster," she said. They were hunting some of the more aggressive wildlife in the area, including lumpy sky fish known as grapor and wisp-like crustaceans known as shrilp, as well as the ever-annoying and omnipresent looper.
Soul had expected Maka to be more squeamish, afraid of beasts, afraid of fighting, and afraid of dead things. Admittedly, though, there was nothing reasonable about this; he had caught himself stereotyping based on her gender. In reality, he was the more easily intimidated one. She would find a cave full of the creepy beasts and charge straight in, firing off her favorite spells, usually fiery red explosions. He generally hung back and heaped green healing spells on her, although he came to realize that she usually incinerated everything in sight before she could need any healing.
He had to admit to finding her attractive. She was a force to be reckoned with, open about her passion, frequently gentle by choice.
He was skeptical of the fruit she dumped on the small table in the cabin of the Little Demon. It was shaped like a strawberry without seeds, but was also unnaturally pale all over and appeared to emit light. His eyes couldn't quite seem to make sense of it, but his brain knew exactly what it was.
"Moonberries?" he asked Maka, who gleefully handed him two and laid claim to the other two. "Where did you get these? Anywhere sketchy?"
"No, I'm not stupid," she said indignantly. "My Papa gave them to me as gifts, and maybe you wouldn't know what they are because you were so sheltered in Valua, but they're incredibly rare."
"I know what they are, thank you very much. But just so you know, your father still counts as a pretty sketchy source."
"Papa probably expects me to eat all of these myself," Maka said as if she didn't hear the last thing he said. "But…"
"If you want them, that's okay." He offered her the two in his hand.
"No, Soul. I gave it to you for a reason." She grinned.
Soul rolled his eyes far more dramatically than he needed to. "Because we're in this together and I'm your first mate?"
"Because I like to do the opposite of whatever Papa wants me to do."
Soul smirked. "You're such a rulebreaker."
She bopped him on the nose in a way that reminded him of moments when she was irritated at him, but her touch was light and her voice was warmer. "Only when the rules are wrong. Now - what do you wanna do?"
"What do I wanna do?" he repeated nervously, swallowing. This question was far, far too open-ended.
"Eating the berries," she said patiently. "Do you want us to take turns, or just eat all of them at once, or -?"
"Oh." He shrugged, brought out of his reverie which had taken a turn toward things that would always be forbidden. "Whatever. Are you nervous or something?"
He wasn't sure if her blush was simple embarrassment or if she, too, recognized that this conversation would sound suggestive out of context. "No one's ever told me if it hurts or anything - when they affect your personal magic," she said in a hurry. "I'm sure it'll be quick, but I have to admit I don't know what to expect."
Soul shrugged again. "Learning spells has never hurt before. I'll bet it's fine. Let's do it at the same time."
She nodded, and they held eye contact across the table. Silly grins emerged on their lips as they raised one berry to each of their mouths.
"Three," Maka started, and gulped down her trepidation. "Two...one…"
The taste was difficult to describe, but he could come up with "sweet," and the texture was otherworldly. The moonberry managed to be both cool and warm, powdery and chewy. It made his mouth tingle, and Soul regretted devouring it in just one bite. As he swallowed, the magical feeling spread down his throat and crept along every nerve in his body, until he felt exhilarated, as if there were a glow emanating from him.
Oh. He probably was glowing, considering that Maka was doing the same across from him. She was staring intently at him, studying his appearance. Her eyes were brighter than twin green moons.
"It must be working," she said with a hugely expectant smile.
Soul held his hand out in front of him and studied it. He felt light-headed and pleasantly warm.
The turbulence tosses them around the bunk. First they're on the bed, which is comfortable; but soon, they and their bundle of covers have migrated to the wall, which can't be right, and then they move on to the ceiling. Maka is dimly aware that the ship must be upside-down for this to happen.
There is no way for her to tell how long the ship tumbles and shakes. They're gripping each other so tightly and their hearts are pounding so hard she can feel his pulse under his skin all over her body, and it's alarming, sensing his fear, because she knows he's a worrywart but he's rarely actually scared and it just hammers home how bad this is. She wants to yell at him to stop being scared, and she wants to curl up in his arms until it's all over, and she wants to protect him.
Eventually it stops, the Little Demon tilted to the side. Minutes pass and there is no more turbulence; there is only the occasional "clunk" of more things falling, along with their still-labored breathing.
"It feels like it's still in the air," Maka whispers of the airship.
Soul's hair brushes her as he nods. "I don't think we hit anything."
They allow more time to pass in silence. She's afraid to relax.
"Should we go to the windows in the bow?" she asks at last.
Soul shrugs. "I dunno. Not sure how else we're gonna figure out what's going on."
Painfully slow and cautious, they loosen their grips on each other and on the blanket-pile, moving toward the door. Everything is pitch-black. Maka realizes that they would usually apologize and blush for this much touching, but the idea of embarrassment in this moment is simply ludicrous. Instead, they blunder into the rest of the cabin.
It's not the cabin they've always known. They can barely see through the gloom, and scattered debris manages to trip them both at once. Maka assumes that the lack of light is caused by all the doors being closed, but when they reach the bunk tucked into the bow, they find that the door has been swung open the whole time.
It's dark outside.
Soul and Maka both squint out the small windows, trying to figure out where they are. There is just enough eerie, gray light to see the shapes of some floating islands against black clouds.
"We must be in a pocket in the Rift," Maka whispers.
Soul swears.
They stare out the windows for a long time, unsure of what the least suicidal option is. Finally, Soul moves toward the door again.
"I'm gonna see if there are any unbroken lights to turn on," he mutters. Maka nods, though he can't see her, and continues looking out the window at the islands. They appear to pulsate, like flesh in the heart of the Rift. It makes her sick to think about, but she can't quite look away.
How? Clearly there must be a way through here, but how are they going to make that happen? The guilt is just settling in when she hears Soul shuffling around on the other side of the ship, searching for a functional light.
She stands, and at the same time, the turbulence begins again.
He's still on the other side of the ship as he yells for her, but there is no way for Maka to choose a direction and move; she is being tossed around, as he surely is, and there is an unholy creaking and cracking.
When she crashes to a halt, she assumes that she must be unconscious and waits to wake up. It takes too long to realize she is just numb.
"These will work," Maka said, gesturing gleefully toward a huge cloud of loopers. They were mostly red in color, though there were a few yellow ones. "Let's see this stuff in action!"
Soul piloted the Little Demon straight through the group, attracting some attention. The loopers tried to pick at the two on deck, and it gave Soul an opportunity to cast his first spell straight away.
Maka fended off the creatures with her sword - it was not difficult, which was slightly disappointing - while she gave Soul a moment to concentrate. It didn't take long for him to figure out what was apparently a defensive shield spell. Something shimmered into being between Maka and the loopers.
"This is awesome," she cried from where she stood, dropping her sword and spinning around, protected from the irate little monsters by glimmering air.
Soul's face was one of pure satisfaction. She rarely saw that look of boyish wonder in his eyes.
"My turn!" Maka said gleefully. When she saw Soul nod in understanding, she did her best to close out the rest of the world so she could concentrate on finding whatever magic the berries had unlocked in her. As one can instinctively follow the smell of food or learn to paddle like a dog in the water, Maka discovered that this too was a friendly spell, and she focused it on Soul.
Upon casting, she felt something she never had before.
It was like having a string tied around her sternum or her heart jerk her toward Soul, though her body didn't move an inch. She was not prepared for it, and would have lost her focus if it had not eased up immediately. She felt Soul's magic tingling around her, saw a glittering shield begin to form around him, too, when-
She was hit by a rush of emotions. It was awful, mostly because she thought she was going mad - where did all this excitement, anxiety, panic come from? What the hell was that sudden self-doubt coming from? She realized - it was Soul. Whatever flitted through his mind also flickered through hers; she found herself terrified of Maka seeing - no, wait, she felt his fear that she would -
It stopped as quickly as it had started and she wasn't sure whether it was because of her or because of him. The shimmering around Soul vanished. He stared at her as though she'd walked in on him naked, and there was a beat of silence between them before a couple of forgotten loopers pummeled Soul in the back of the head.
"Ouch! Shit!" he swore. The group that had been flocking around Maka had finally decided to give up and bother Soul instead. She shouted his name, running forward with another new spell crackling at the back of her mind…
...But, much to her distracted concern, she couldn't quite make anything happen.
Before Maka had fully drawn her sword, she saw Soul raise both hands in a motion she recognized as spell-casting. One of the silver spells they had practiced - an offensive move, dubbed "Eternes" by mages in the past - swept around him.
It was weak, clearly rushed and nowhere near as well as he'd done in practice, but several loopers fell to the deck, while the rest beat a hasty retreat.
When he stopped casting, the shimmering shield around her also vanished. As she approached him, Maka noticed that he was shaking, pale, probably broken out in a cold sweat. He held his hands unnaturally by his sides and stood stiffly, looking like an animal uncertain about whether it wanted to flee.
"What was that?" he asked, out of breath.
"It's one of my moonberry spells, I guess," she said, far more shakily than she would have liked. "It allows me to share any magic spell I have with you. You saw how it shared the shield I had on me with you. But I guess it also allows - mind reading? Or emotion sharing of some kind?"
Soul shrugged. "Weird."
"Do you think we should try it again now that all the loopers are gone?" she asked.
"No," he said too quickly, as if he were kicking her out of his home. It must have been her stricken expression that made him add, "I mean - I'm sorry, but no, we can't use that move."
The confusion is unbearable. Not knowing where he is in relation to anything else makes his skin crawl; as far as he's concerned, he's floating in a black void.
But wait - he's not floating. On his left side, where his body is in contact with the ground, his bones ache. His head hurts. He's freezing, and his mouth tastes like his own blood. Ah, yes, he's bitten his tongue.
He doesn't hear her.
Soul opens his eyes, fearful when it is too late that he may regret it. There is nothing unexpected to be found, though; he's on an island carpeted in a wiry, thick kind of grass, surrounded by stones and - is that a petrified log?
Picking himself up off the ground seems like a terrible idea, but he's too anxious to stay still, so he drags himself into a sitting position with much groaning and gritting of teeth. He doesn't seem to have broken any bones and he certainly isn't bleeding out, but he hurts. There must be sprains and bruises everywhere. The oddly-shifting ground doesn't help, either, but he can't concern himself with it quite yet.
The moonstones are still around his neck, so he clutches the old green one. Biting on his lower lip for focus, Soul spends a few minutes casting a minor healing spell known as "sacres." It isn't very strong, but it's the strongest magic he has the energy for right now. It's warm and refreshing, and it takes the edge off the aches so he is able to stand up.
The next step is finding Maka. He's on a tiny island surrounded by other islands of various sizes, most of them several times the length of the Little Demon away from him. The lighting is as it would be at dusk; he can barely see anything, just vague shapes.
Everything pulsates. It's like standing on a beating heart. Soul doesn't dare venture too close to the edge of the island, because he has a feeling the beating could throw him off. Instead, he creeps along the sides of the rocks and the single log, peering in every corner for Maka.
She's not there.
"Maka!" he shouts. The surrounding darkness swallows his voice. But he keeps yelling her name - "Makaaa. Maka! Maka?!" - as he glances around at all the other nearby islands, because what else is he going to do?
Most of them are empty. But there is one - a much larger one than his, somewhere to the side and slightly above - with a large jagged mass of debris on it.
His blood runs cold. He recognizes that mass, because it used to be the Little Demon. And, more importantly, Maka is probably in there.
What was that? What in the skies was that? He'd definitely felt like he wasn't alone in his mind.
Sweet Silvites, what had she seen? What did she know?
"Look, Maka," he said, voice as heavy as his regret. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or… deny you a chance to practice your magic or whatever. I swear, it's nothing against you. I just can't have anyone in my head right now."
He hated the pleading look in his own eyes, but the expression he received in return was soft, if sad.
"It's fine," she said, smiling without feeling at the planks on the deck. "I can't intrude on your mind when you don't want me there. That would be cruel."
Something about the way she said "you don't want me there" cut into him. Change the subject. Find something she'll want to talk about. He simply couldn't afford to let her in… but he so hated making her sad. Maka Albarn never looked defeated, and yet there she stood.
"Do you think that's all we can do?" he tried, knowing full well that he'd felt another spell somewhere deep down, though he hadn't been able to use it.
"I don't know," Maka snapped. "I just know I can't do any more now, I'm too tired, I feel drained, there's no point."
"Okay, jeez, whatever," he muttered. "Don't take it out on me."
Wishing she would yell at him rather than remain silent, Soul let her lean against the cabin for a bit. Maka brooded uncharacteristically while he did his best to turn the ship around on his own.
She later helped bring the Little Demon into its mooring at Crescent Isle without a word. If he hadn't still been feeling odd about the whole encounter, Soul might not have been watching Maka's face carefully and he might not have seen the evidence of her crying. She leapt off the ship and onto the dock with none of her usual bounce, ignoring his "Hey, Maka?"
He followed her, trailing far enough behind not to be intrusive (he hoped), until she almost arrived at her father's inn (where she only stayed if the weather was too lousy to sleep on the in-progress deck of the Angel).
He would have to say something now or he wouldn't get a chance for a while. "You don't have to tell me what's going on, but, you know, I do wanna help."
She turned her head enough to glare at him before sighing. "Fine." And she walked past, back where she came from, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt to indicate she wanted him to follow.
Soul's going to be so upset.
She had scanned the surrounding islands for a hint of him. She found him easily because that hair of his still stands out, even in this dank, dark air. At first, he was unconscious or worse, lying motionless on his side.
Maka had appraised the wreckage of the Little Demon. The moonstone engine was stuck on a rock, but she could probably get it to fly again. At least, she could get it to fly with a tiny platform of the ship's remains around it.
Now she looks back at Soul again, and he has moved. She knows he's yelling in her direction, and he looks ridiculous; she would laugh in any other situation. Instead, she just waves over and over, hoping to indicate that she's alright for now.
It takes longer than she thinks it should, but he eventually notices and calms down. She's not sure if he can really make out her individual hand movements in the darkness, but she tries gesturing first at the wreckage and then at his island several times. He sits on a (petrified?) log, and she tries holding her hand out in a stopping motion to tell him not to move. He doesn't, though she has no idea whether it's because he understands or because he is essentially powerless where he sits.
Work on the engine is slow going. Her hands are cold and achy as she pries the stone away from the grate where the moonstone fuel is held. Somehow, by the grace of every moon in the sky (and every muscle she's ever strained), she separates the engine and a small platform of wood from the rest of the wreckage.
Activating and directing the makeshift raft will be annoying, but at least it will fly. She will have to constantly fiddle with the tiny controls at the top of the engine - which was once hooked up to the ship's wheel, sails, and other essential parts - but this is far better than having nothing.
He's waiting near the edge of his island when she first hops on the floating raft. Without any sails, her vessel moves more slowly than she has seen anything move in her life, but it does persevere. She doesn't look down. She's halfway to his island.
That's when a vehement wind gust, sent like a snide bully telling her it won't be so easy, blows her raft to its side, and with nothing to hang on to, she falls.
They arrived under her "reading tree" - it was in a quiet park where people didn't usually hang around at this time of day. A statue stood nearby, a grandfatherly one Maka had always looked to for comfort. It was made in the image of a portly, bearded old Blue Rogue with an eyepatch, a hook arm, and a peg leg. He looked on like a guardian.
She had tears in her eyes. Crap. She hadn't intended to fall apart like a giant baby in front of Soul or anyone else. She stopped and turned around, but couldn't meet his gaze.
"Maybe we're not really - maybe we don't really have as good a connection as I thought," she said.
"What? I don't understand," he said, earnest, eyes searching her expression.
"It seems like you couldn't even bear to connect with me. Whatever that was, it could be incredible, I'll bet! But you wouldn't let me use it."
Soul gasped. "I wouldn't? I wasn't sure why it broke...isn't there a chance that you helped break it too?"
Maka balled her fists and grit her teeth at the ground.
"No," she finally answered. "I was scared. But it wasn't me. I wanted to push forward. We've known each other for a year, Soul." She shook her head, but all that accomplished was shaking a few tears free, which inspired many more.
Soul stood there stiffly before responding. "If it helps, I - I care about you."
She shook her head, dropping a few more tears, which made her more aware of how her eyes brimmed and how her nose ran. "Thanks, Soul, but you can't just say that. We need to be able to act like it."
She was too focused on controlling the assorted noises coming from her throat and nose to notice him until he had his arms around her in a loose embrace. He patted her back awkwardly.
She took a deep breath and exhaled, leaned her forehead against his chest, paid no mind to getting his shirt wet with tears.
"It kind of hurts that you won't let me connect to you. I think it could be a useful spell, you know? Opening up a mental connection while you share magic...it must have something to do with how magic exists in your mind. Or soul. Ha...haha."
Soul sighed and pulled her very close, rubbing her back now. She could feel his heart pounding, though his voice remained steady.
"I really can't explain right now why I can't let you use your magic on me. I promise it's nothing you're doing wrong. It's all my problem, and I'm not ready to deal with it yet. But you're afraid too, right? It's not just me?"
Maka heaved a deep breath. "I know. What are we doing wrong?"
He hummed. "I don't think we're doing anything wrong. It's just - I can't have anyone inside my head right now. And I'm sure it's the same for you."
Maka mustered a weak, stuffy chuckle. "You act like you're secretly a Black Pirate or something, and you don't want me to find out."
"What?! No!" Soul said. "It's nothing like that. In fact, you'd probably think it was stupid. But… just give me time."
Maka pulled back to appraise him through watery eyes. "Okay. Fine." She held out her hand. "I'll wait, but I want to move toward… trusting each other more, I guess."
They shook on it.
The next morning, Maka woke feeling hopeful. She waited until she saw Soul's white hair moving about on the deck of the Little Demon before she made her suggestion.
"I think we should go explore Esperanza," she told him from where she stood on the dock. He was adjusting one of the sails and turned to appraise her over his shoulder.
"Don't you want to stay and work on the Angel?" Soul asked suspiciously.
"I do want to do more of that. But I'd like a change of scenery for a little while, and well, have you ever been there?"
"I never have-" Soul began. "Actually, I take it back. I was there as a kid, according to my parents. It's nothing I remember, though."
"It's right on the edge of the Dark Rift," Maka said. "And it's really pretty, and there's lots of history."
"Of course you'd bring up the history." Soul heaved a long-suffering sigh.
"Seriously! There's a lot to do there. What do you say? It might be a good start to having some real adventures."