Soul sat on a picnic blanket in the middle of the grassy park, sipping rootbeer from a can. The sun grinned down at him, huffing laughter. It was a good day for a picnic—clear and bright and unusually cool for Death City.

Tsubaki and Black Star were tossing a Frisbee back and forth. Black Star whooped, hollered and bounded around the park like an overexcited Labrador.

Most of his throws were too high and aggressive for Tsubaki to catch. Four out of five times, the Frisbee would land somewhere in the nearby woods. They spent more time searching for it and bringing it back than actually playing. But somehow, they still seemed to be having a good time.

"Black Star, what have I told you?" Maka shouted. "If you keep throwing it like that, you're going to hurt someone!"

Black Star pointedly ignored her, and she sighed.

"They'll be fine," Soul said and took another sip of his rootbeer. Usually Kid, Liz and Patty joined them for this kind of thing, but they were away on a mission, so it was just the four of them.

Six, he amended. Chrona and Ragnarok were a part of the gang now, too.

Chrona was currently sitting on a corner of the blanket next to Maka, nibbling a triangle of peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He'd been picking at that sandwich-half for about twenty minutes, and he still hadn't managed to eat much of it.

"Not hungry?" Maka asked him.

A blush crept into Chrona's cheeks, and he looked down at the half-eaten sandwich. "Sorry. I just don't have much appetite today."

"Well, it is cold and flu season," Soul said. "Maybe you're catching a bug."

"It's n-not that…" He lowered his gaze. His voice grew softer, though Soul could still hear him. "I'm in a strange mood. I feel nervous and I don't know why. My stomach is all tensed up."

Maka's gaze softened, and she lay a hand over his. Leaning closer, she murmured, "Are you okay? If you need to, we can go—"

He shook his head. "I'll be fine. I have days like this sometimes. I can deal with it."

She nodded and kissed him softly. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

Chrona gave her an unsteady smile. "Thank you."

Maka was always so gentle around Chrona. It was a side of her that Soul hadn't seen much of before they met the Demon Swordsman. After all, this was Maka Albarn, the girl who could cut down a kishin egg without flinching. Her brutal Maka Chops had become so infamous throughout the school that most boys avoided her out of sheer survival instinct…though Soul had always thought survival instinct was overrated, which was probably why they got along.

He still couldn't figure out where she pulled that dictionary from.

Around Chrona, however, she was a harmless kitten. Okay, maybe more like a purring, contented lioness. But still. Their bond was something Soul hadn't figured out—it went deeper than friendship, deeper even than being a couple—but there was no questioning it. It was just there, like the sun's perpetually grinning face.

Chrona opened his mouth to take another bite of his sandwich. Ragnarok sprang from his back, snatched it from his hand, swallowed it one bite and belched, spraying crumbs.

"Ragnarok!" Maka snapped.

Chrona looked at his empty hand with a sorrowful expression. He bowed his head in weary resignation—as if the gods themselves had descended from the heavens to snatch away the remains of his sandwich, and he accepted it as a just punishment for his essential unworthiness.

Maka glared at the small, black and white creature who was currently perched atop Chrona's head. Ragnarok stared back at her with expressionless ping-pong ball eyes. "Stop stealing Chrona's food," she said. "If you want a sandwich, just ask for one. There's plenty." She opened up the picnic basket. "See?"

"What's the problem?" Ragnarok asked. "He was barely eating it. I get sick of watching him pick at stuff. Anyway, that was the last PBJ. The rest are yucky tuna with celery."

"You shouldn't say it's yucky," Chrona said, his eyes rolling upward to meet Ragnarok's gaze. "Ts-Tsubaki made it for us."

"What? I thought you made these."

"N-no, Tsubaki said I was always the one bringing lunch for everyone, so she offered to do it this time."

"Well, give me one! Hers are probably better."

Chrona sighed and fished a sandwich from the picnic basket.

Black Star retrieved the Frisbee from the edge of the park and turned toward them. Tsubaki had wandered off somewhere—probably to use the bathroom—and Black Star looked from Maka to Soul before his gaze settled on Chrona. "Hey Chrona!" he shouted. "Catch!" He flung the Frisbee.

Chrona went rigid, eyes wide. The Frisbee bounced off his face, knocking his head back.

Soul winced. Chrona actually had very good reflexes, but for some reason the sight of the Frisbee sailing toward his head seemed to paralyze him. Black Star, however, never gave up.

"Come on, I know you're faster than that!" Black Star shouted. "Here, throw it back at me, we'll try again."

"Uhm…" Chrona stood and slowly picked up the Frisbee, turning it over in his hands. He walked out into the middle of the grassy clearing, looking uncertain. "I've never thrown one before. I don't know how—"

"Just pretend like you're throwing a Bloody Slicer at me!"

Chrona hesitated.

"Go on," Ragnarok said. "Don't be a pussy. Just throw it!" He vanished into Chrona's back.

Chrona took a deep breath and stood, feet planted wide apart. He flung the Frisbee with a flick of his wrist. It arched gracefully through the air. Black Star leaped up and caught it. "There ya go! Okay, here it comes—" He swung his arm around and around, until it blurred in circles, then flung the Frisbee with enough force to plow through a brick wall.

Chrona's eyes widened. He stood rooted to the spot, quaking, as the juggernaut of a Frisbee hurtled toward him. At the last second he flinched back, crossed his arms over his face…

And vanished with a puff of smoke. His empty robe fell to the grass.

"Whuh—?" Soul stared, jaw hanging.

Maka leaped to her feet. "He disappeared!" She ran to the spot where Chrona had been and looked around frantically. Then she whirled to face Black Star, eyes wild. "Where did he go?"

"How should I know?" Black Star stared, blinking, at the spot where Chrona had been standing a moment before. He scratched his head…then approached and picked up the empty robe. He stared at the square black shoes and white stockings on the grass with an expression of utter bafflement.

Then his mouth fell open. "AHH!" He pointed down at something in the grass. "Chrona's a lizard!"

"No way." Soul jumped to his feet and jogged over. "That's crazy. How could he—"

He looked down and saw a skinny black salamander with pink spots. It huddled in the grass, quivering. "Damn," he said, "it is Chrona."

Maka stared down with wide eyes. "Oh my God," she whispered. "Chrona..."

The salamander stared up at them, tiny mouth open…then spun around and darted away through the grass.

"Chrona, wait!" Maka shouted.

The salamander zigzagged through the grass, and they all ran after him. He darted into the nearby woods and vanished into a patch of vegetation.

Maka crouched beside it and pawed through the leaves. "He's not here," she said frantically. "We've got to spread out and search for him."

"Let's not panic," Soul said. "He'll probably come back once he calms down."

"Anything could happen to him in this form." She looked up at him, eyes huge. She was panting, cheeks lightly flushed with exertion. "A hawk could decide to eat him for lunch, or someone could step on him, or—"

"Okay, okay. We'll look for him."

"I'll catch him!" Black Star clenched a fist. "I'm the man who transcended the gods. There's no way I can't find a salamander in a little patch of trees." He paused, frowning. "But why did he run away?"

"Probably panicked," Soul replied. "I mean, we all look like giants to him now." He looked up and saw the salamander clinging to the side of a tree, staring at him with round eyes. "Oh. There he is."

Black Star whirled around and made a grab for Chrona. His fingers closed around the salamander. "Ha! Gotcha—"

Chrona wriggled, squeaking fearfully, and slipped out of his grip. He landed on the ground and darted away again, vanishing into the undergrowth.

"Chrona!" Maka dropped to her hands and knees and began crawling, looking under leaves and rocks. It had rained last night—a rare Death City shower—and the ground was still wet, but she didn't seem to notice. "Chrona, come out. We're not going to hurt you. Chronaaaa!"

Soul watched, a little astonished by the sight of Maka Albarn—the proud girl who'd defeated the Kishin—crawling around on her hands and knees, in the mud, apparently indifferent to the fact that her skirt was riding up and he could see—

Soul turned his face aside, blushing slightly, and scratched his cheek with one finger. Probably shouldn't say anything.

"Ha ha!" Black Star pointed. "Your panties have little pumpkins on them!"

Maka glared over her shoulder, a vein popping out in her temple. An instant later, a huge dictionary was flying through the air toward Black Star. It struck him square in the face, and he keeled backward, blood spraying from his nose.

Soul winced.

Maka went back to her search.

"Black Star, Maka? Soul?" said a soft voice. "What's going on?"

It was Tsubaki, apparently returned from her trip to the bathroom. She stared at them in bewilderment.

"Chrona's a salamander," Soul said, "and we're trying to find him."

Tsubaki's eyes widened. "What? But how—"

"We don't really know why it happened. He just suddenly changed."

Maka looked over her shoulder, still on her hands and knees. "It's probably because he's half-witch."

"Eh?" Black Star stood, wiping blood from his nose. "What's that got to do with it?"

"Most witches can transform into a specific animal," she replied. "And their powers start manifesting around puberty, or a few years later."

Soul scratched his head. "So…this is normal?"

"I think so." Maka resumed crawling around, searching. She moved a rock aside. "Before this, I didn't think he was going to develop any witch powers. I thought that if it was going to happen it would have happened already."

"Guess he's just a late bloomer," Soul said.

Maka gasped.

"What?"

Maka didn't reply. She was kneeling in front of a hollow, half-rotted log, peering inside. Slowly—very slowly—she stretched out a hand. "Chrona?" Her voice was soft and cautious. "Chrona, it's me. It's Maka. Come out? Please?" Her hand remained motionless, outstretched at the entrance to the log.

A moment passed. Then the black, pink-spotted salamander crept out of the log and onto her hand. He huddled there in her palm, tail curled around himself, as she stood and approached the others. Maka kept her hands carefully cupped around him, cradling him. "It's okay," she murmured. "I have you."

"M-Maka…" said a tiny voice.

"Whoa," Soul said, "you can still talk?"

They all leaned in, peering down at him with wide eyes.

Chrona sat in Maka's palm, shaking. "I don't understand," he whispered. "Why am I so small? Why do I have a tail? And…" He rubbed his arms and shuddered. "Why am I slimy?"

"You transformed into a salamander," Maka said. "I think your witch powers finally surfaced. Do you think you can shift back?"

"I don't know," Chrona said. His breathing quickened. He raised his little webbed hands—forefeet?—and stared at them. "N-nothing like this has ever happened to me."

"Just close your eyes and visualize yourself changing back," Tsubaki suggested. "That's what I do when I want to change back from Weapon-form. It's like…hmm. Like loosening a muscle."

Chrona shut his eyes. A long moment passed. When he opened them again, they were glazed with panic. "It's not working."

"Maybe you're too tense," Tsubaki said. "Just relax."

"I c-c-c-can't."

"Okay, um…" Maka glanced at Soul. "What about you? What do you do when you change forms?"

"I don't know how to describe it." He scratched the back of his head. "I just do it. It's like trying to explain how to blink. But I guess what Tsubaki said sounds about right." He glanced at Chrona. "Do you remember how you changed into a salamander in the first place?"

"I d-didn't even think about it!" He clutched his tiny, round head. "I just saw the Frisbee flying at me, and I got scared and—it just happened."

For a moment, they all stood, staring at him with perplexed expressions. Then Black Star thrust his face into Chrona's, contorted his mouth in a grotesque expression, waved his hands, and screamed, "RAAAH!"

Chrona screamed, too, his eyes bugging out in horror. He leaped out of Maka's hand and clung to her shirt, gasping.

"Black Star!" she cried, looking appalled. "What's wrong with you?"

He ducked his head, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. "I, um…I thought if we scared him again, he might change back."

"Well, you could have warned him!"

"It wouldn't have worked if I'd warned him."

"It didn't work anyway."

"Well, how was I supposed to know that it wouldn't?" He scowled at her. "I was trying to help, okay?"

"Never mind." Maka cupped her hands around Chrona, who was still clinging to the front of her blouse with all four feet, shaking violently. "It's okay," she murmured. She leaned down and kissed the top of his little head. "He won't do it again." She gently pried Chrona from the front of her shirt and cradled him in her palms.

"Wh-what if I'm stuck like this forever?" he asked. "I don't know how to deal with being a salamander!"

"That would make things difficult," Soul said. "I mean, you can't really be a Meister if you're like this..."

"Soul, you're not helping," Maka said.

"Sorry."

Chrona moaned. "I don't want to leave the school. I don't want to leave all of you. I don't want to spend the rest of my life in the forest eating bugs!" His breathing grew heavier and more ragged until he was gasping. He pressed one hand—paw? Forefoot?—to his chest.

"Chrona?" Maka's eyes widened. "Chrona, it's okay. You're not going to be stuck like this, I promise—"

He collapsed into her palm and curled up, tiny chest fluttering as he gasped.

"What's happening?" Black Star asked nervously.

"What does it look like?" Maka replied, her voice tense and sharp. "He's having a panic attack."

"Did he bring his meds?" Soul asked.

"He can't swallow them like this. His throat's too small."

"What should we do?" Tsubaki asked.

"We're taking him to Dr. Stein," Maka said firmly. She turned and dashed out of the woods, toward the school. Soul followed, Black Star and Tsubaki close on his heels.

Soul struggled to keep up with her, his mind turning in circles. It was the weekend; Dr. Stein was at home right now, probably buried neck-deep in some freaky research. Were they just going to start pounding on his door?

Apparently, that was exactly what Maka had in mind, because she charged straight to Stein's house. She shifted Chrona—still hyperventilating—into one hand, and with the other, she began banging furiously on the door. "Dr. Stein!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. "Dr. Stein, we need to see you right away!"

Ten seconds later, the door opened to reveal Stein, disheveled as ever, with a cigarette jutting from one corner of his mouth. He gave them a mildly irritated look. "What's the meaning of—"

Maka lifted Chrona in both hands, practically thrusting him into Stein's face. "Chrona needs help."

Chrona remained curled in her palms, wheezing.

Stein adjusted his glasses, and his expression smoothed out. "I see." His voice was remarkably calm, as if salamander panic attacks were something he dealt with every day. He held out a hand. "Let's have a look."

Maka hesitated, then gently placed Chrona in Stein's hand…or tried to. Faced with the prospect of being separated from Maka, Chrona had wrapped his tail and all four of his legs around her wrist, and he wouldn't let go.

Stein shrugged. "All right, then. You too. Come in."

Maka walked in. Soul started to follow, but Stein held a hand up. "I meant Maka and Chrona," he said. "The rest of you can wait out here." He shut the door.

Maka sat on the couch, facing Dr. Stein. Her back was rigid with tension, her hands balled into fists in her lap.

Stein had given Chrona three drops of clear liquid from an eyedropper, and now he seemed marginally calmer; enough that he'd let Stein pry him away from Maka's wrist long enough to examine him.

Now, Chrona stood upright on the coffee table in Stein's living room, tail wrapped around his middle, hugging himself with his forelegs.

"Well," Stein said, sitting in his armchair with his elbows resting on his knees, "I'm sure you'll change back sooner or later. I've never heard of a witch getting permanently stuck in animal form. The first transformation is always a little disorienting—it's the same way for young Weapons—but once you get used to it, it will feel natural to shift back and forth."

"But what if I just can't? What will happen to me?"

"If a full day goes by and you're still not able to transform, come see me again. But I really don't think there's anything to worry about." He gave Chrona a reassuring smile. "Your body knows what to do, even if your mind doesn't. At some point, it'll just happen."

Chrona gave a small, uncertain nod. "I-if you say so."

"I'll leave some of this with you, in case you need it." He placed the eyedropper on the coffee table. "For now, go home and get some rest." He paused. "Actually, you should probably come and see me in a day or two, regardless of whether you're able to transform back."

"Why's that?" Maka asked.

"If he's developing new powers, we need to know exactly how they work and what they do. But don't worry about that right now," he added, giving Chrona another smile. "Just rest."

They left Stein's house with Chrona perched in Maka's hand. The others had already drifted away and gone home—all but Soul, who was still leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, looking up at the clouds.

He glanced at Maka, then at Chrona. "No luck?"

"He said Chrona will change back on his own, eventually. I guess there's nothing to worry about." Still, she was worried, and she couldn't quite keep the concern from her voice. What if Stein didn't actually know? What if he'd just been trying to reassure them?

The Weapons and Meisters of Shibusen knew a lot about witches' magic…when it came to their offensive and defensive capabilities, anyway. But Shibusen's soldiers only fought adult witches. They didn't know what it was like for an adolescent witch first discovering her—or his—magic. Were there witches who turned into animals and couldn't change back?

Chrona looked up at her with large, uncertain eyes. She forced a smile and stroked his head with one finger. "It'll be fine," she said. "We'll figure something out. I promise."

Later, in her room, Maka sat at her desk, poring through book after book. She'd stopped at the library on the way home—tucking Chrona into her coat pocket to hide him—and checked out every book on witch magic she could find. She'd checked out a couple on salamanders, as well, just in case he did end up stuck like this for awhile.

But not forever, she told herself firmly. There was no way he'd be stuck like this forever. The very idea was absurd.

Chrona floated nearby in a bowl of water. He paddled around a little, his tail swaying back and forth. He paused to grip the rim of the bowl and peered over at her. "You don't have to do this," he said quietly.

She flashed a quick smile at him and turned another page. "It's no trouble. I'm curious about this sort of thing anyway. I've been looking for an excuse to catch up on my reading." She paused. "Is your water warm enough?"

"It's fine. Th-thank you. It feels nice."

She fed him another jellybean from the bag on her desk, and he grasped it with both hands and nibbled it.

Maka skimmed through another page. "Ambystoma maculatum," she said.

"Huh?"

"Spotted salamander. That's what you are. Except your spots are pink instead of yellow."

"Oh." He stared at the licorice jellybean in his hands. "This is so weird," he murmured. "I have teeth on the roof of my mouth now. I can chew by rubbing this against the roof of my mouth with my tongue." He paused. "Sorry, that's gross, isn't it? I shouldn't have told you that."

"No, it's okay. It's kind of fascinating, actually. I've always wondered what it's like to transform into something else…a Weapon or an animal. Being a Meister, I guess I'll never really experience that." She studied his tiny face. Even in salamander form, his features still somehow looked Chrona-like; his snout was small and upturned, like his nose, and his eyes were large and a little sad.

"Hey," Maka said suddenly, "what happened to Ragnarok? It's not like him to be quiet for so long."

Chrona bowed his head and closed his eyes. A look of concentration slipped over his face. "He's still there. I can feel his soul inside me, sleeping. But I don't think he can come out when I'm like this."

"Oh." She gave him an uncertain smile. "Well, if you ever need a break from him bossing you around, now you know how to get it."

Chrona smiled back, but the expression faded quickly.

Maka gently lifted him out of the bowl, placed him on her shoulder, and picked up the book. "Why don't you read with me for a little while? I'm sure we can find some way to change you back. But even if we don't, it's okay. There's no rush."

Chrona nodded, curled up on her shoulder, and peered down at the book.

They read in silence for a few minutes. Chrona climbed down her arm, to the desk, to get another jellybean.

Maka heard the creak of the door hinges and looked up to see Blair slink into the room in her cat form, tail swaying back and forth. Maka hadn't actually seen her since they got home; she'd probably been napping under Soul's bed, as was her custom.

Blair froze and cocked her head. Her gaze fixed on Chrona. A smile split her muzzle, showing sharp teeth, and a predatory gleam slipped into her eyes.

Maka tensed. "Blair, don't—"

She lunged. Chrona squealed in terror. An instant later, he was darting back and forth across the floor, and Blair was chasing him, grabbing at him with her paws. She pounced and pinned Chrona to the floor, and he struggled, still squealing.

"Blair!" Maka grabbed Blair by the collar and hauled her back. She yowled, squirming in protest. "That's Chrona!"

Blair looked at her, eyes round with shock, then looked down at Chrona, who huddled on the floor, quivering. Blair put a paw to her mouth. "Oops."

"Oops? That's all you have to say?" Maka scooped up Chrona and examined him for signs of injury. "You could have killed him!"

"Blair didn't know," Blair whined softly. "Blair would never eat a friend on purpose."

"Well, that should go without saying."

Her ears drooped. "It's just—salamanders are so yummy, and when I saw him there…" She sniffled. "I swear I didn't know. I didn't even know he could transform."

Maka sighed. "Until today, we didn't know either." She studied Chrona. "Are you okay?"

"F-fine," he said in a tiny voice. "Just…shaken."

She set him carefully on the desk, where he stood, clutching his tail.

Blair jumped up onto the bed and sat, tail curled around her haunches. "Well," she said. "Congratulations on your new powers."

"Th-thanks. But I'd like it more if I could change back," he muttered. "It's a little scary being stuck like this."

"I can understand that." Blair smiled. "I remember the first time I changed into a human. At first, I couldn't change back either. I was afraid it would never happen, and that I would be all hairless and tall and clumsy forever." She paused to lick her paw. "But in the end, it was easy. I just said my magic phrase for the first time, and it happened just like that. Poof."

"Magic phrase?" Chrona repeated.

She waved a paw. "Pump-pumpkin, pumpkin!" In a puff of smoke, she transformed, and a curvaceous, golden-eyed human woman was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but her oversized hat.

Chrona squeaked and covered his eyes with his hands. Maka awkwardly averted her gaze.

Blair giggled. She waved a hand and transformed back into a cat. "See? It's easy."

Chrona peeked out from behind his hands. "B-but I don't know my magic phrase. How am I supposed to learn it?"

"You don't learn it," Blair said. "It's something that flows naturally from your soul. Just say whatever words come to mind."

Maka looked curiously at Chrona.

"I'll give it a try. P-put me on the floor? Just in case it works."

Gently, she set him on the floor near her feet. She kept a wary eye on Blair, but the cat remained sitting on the bed, grooming one paw.

"Just say whatever words come into my head?" Chrona asked.

Blair nodded.

Chrona took a deep breath. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. "Jellybean squids!" Nothing happened. Slowly, he opened his eyes and fidgeted. "I guess that wasn't it. I th-think I was only thinking about jellybeans because I just had some. And…I don't know why I was thinking about squids…"

"Try again," Maka urged.

He closed his eyes again. A tiny furrow of concentration appeared in his brow. At last, he sighed and opened his eyes again. "It's no good. Nothing's coming."

"It should have something to do with your animal form, right?" Maka said. "I mean…Free's incantation was 'Wolf Wolves'…"

"And Medusa's was Nake-Snake Cobra Cobara," Blair added.

Chrona shuddered at the familiar phrase. "But yours is Pump-Pumpkin," he said. "That has nothing to do with transformation…d-does it?"

"Come to think of it, Eruka didn't use an incantation for her magic, did she?" Maka asked. "Neither did the Mizunes. Maybe not everyone has one."

Blair reached up to tilt her hat down over one eye. "Every magic-user does. Not Meisters and Weapons, but then, Soul Resonance isn't magic. Some witches just say the incantation in their heads instead of out loud."

Maka was about to ask how Blair knew that when Chrona suddenly burst out with, "Sala-mala-mala-mander!"

Bright pink electricity arched from his hands, crackling. It leaped across the room and struck the wall with a resounding crack. Maka gasped. Blair yowled and darted under the bed.

The pink lightning had left a smoking singe-mark on the wall, and a faintly burnt smell hung in the air.

Maka gulped, pulse tripping in her throat. "Well…I guess we know your magic incantation now."

Chrona stared down at his hands, a look of astonishment on his face. "Did I just do that?"

Maka nodded. "That should come in handy in battle."

"B-but…I'm still a salamander." His voice wavered. "Why didn't I change back?"

Blair peeked out from under the bed. "I don't know. Maybe it'll just happen, sooner or later."

"That's what Dr. Stein said…but…" He clutched his arm, trembling. "I'm afraid," he whispered.

Maka crouched beside him. "It'll be fine," she said firmly. "You just have to wait." But deep within, she felt a tiny, cold flicker of doubt.

That night, after Maka changed into her pajamas, she sat on the edge of the bed. Chrona was still paddling around half-heartedly in his bowl of water. The coolness felt good on his skin, but it didn't soothe the anxieties stirring deeper within him.

"Let's get some sleep," Maka said. "Things will look better in the morning."

He nodded without looking up, climbed out of the bowl, and dried himself off with the dishrag Maka had placed nearby.

She scooped him up in her hands, set him on the pillow next to hers, and stretched out on the bed. Chrona curled up on the pillow and tucked his nose under the tip of his tail.

There had been a time, not long ago, when being a salamander would have sounded like the ideal life to him. Salamanders didn't have to make any difficult choices, and they never hurt anyone…well, except bugs and slugs. They lived their lives quietly, out of sight, in murky ponds and under wet leaves. Before he came to Shibusen—before Maka came into his life—that was all he'd ever wanted. Just to be left alone, to not have to deal with anything.

He didn't feel that way anymore. But a part of him couldn't help thinking that this was some cosmic punishment for a life of cowardice.

"Chrona?"

He heard the uncertainty in her tone. He breathed a small, forlorn sigh. He didn't like to burden her with his worries, but by now, he'd learned that his silence worried her even more. "Is this really what I'm like, on the inside?" he asked. "Is this who I am?"

Her brows knitted together. "What do you mean?"

"W-well…" He averted his gaze. "I mean, most people who can transform…their animal form has something to do with who they are. The Mizune sisters are clever but skittish, like mice. And M-Medusa…" He gulped. "Even if she couldn't change shape, she was a snake."

Maka nodded. Anger flickered through her eyes at the mention of Medusa's name. "She was cold-blooded, that's for sure."

"Arachne was cunning and deadly, like a spider. And Blair is…well, a cat," he murmured. "Playful and fun-loving."

"Not the first adjectives I would have thought of, but yes."

Chrona looked down at his hands, spreading his webbed fingers. "So what does it mean, that I'm an ugly little amphibian that spends most of its life hiding in the mud?"

"Chrona, what are you talking about? Salamanders are cute."

He looked up uncertainly. "They are?"

"Sure. I remember when I was a little girl, I found one in the garden and wanted to keep it as a pet, but Mama wouldn't let me. She said wild things belonged in the wild. She was right, but I wasn't happy about it. I threw a tantrum."

The ghost of a smile flitted across his face. "It's hard to imagine you throwing a tantrum."

"Oh, I did." She smiled back. "The biggest tantrum you ever saw."

He looked down at himself. "You don't mind that I'm…slimy?"

"You're not slimy. You're just a little moist."

He rubbed a hand over one arm and murmured, "It feels slimy to me."

"You're just not used to being amphibious, that's all." She propped a cheek up on one hand, gazing at him. "You know, salamanders might be timid, but they're also very adaptable."

He tilted his head. "How?"

"They're the only vertebrates in the world that can regenerate lost limbs…which means they can live through things that would kill or cripple most other animals. I was reading about it in that book earlier. Even if a salamander loses a piece of its heart, it can regrow it. That's who you are. You're a survivor."

His tail twitched back and forth, wagging. Another little smile flickered across his face. Trust Maka to see the good even in something like this. Maybe she was right. Maybe being a salamander wasn't a bad thing.

A moment later, the smile faded.

"What's wrong?"

Chrona looked away. "If I'm stuck like this," he said quietly, "I won't be able to go on missions anymore. And…" A lump rose into his throat. "It won't be the same between us. I can't hug you. I can't kiss you. I can't…" His chest hitched, and the lump in his throat swelled. He wondered if salamanders could cry. "I j-just want you to know…ih-if I can't change back…if I'm really stuck like this forever, and…if you want to be with someone else, I'll underst—"

She placed a finger against his mouth, silencing him. He blinked in surprise.

Maka gathered him up in her hands and held him close against her heart. "I'll love you no matter what," she said. "You're the most special person in the world to me. That's not going to change."

"B-but…I'm not…"

"No matter what you look like on the outside, you're still Chrona." Cradling him in her palm, she touched a finger gently to his chest, over his heart. "You're the same in here. And we'll always be together. I promise you."

He looked up at her, eyes wide, then hugged her finger tight. A tiny tear trickled down the side of his snout. "I love you, Maka," he whispered.

"I love you too, Chrona." She kissed the top of his head and murmured, "Cuddle with me."

He crawled up her arm, onto her shoulder, and curled up against the side of her neck. Her hair fell over him like a blanket of silk, and he could feel her pulse, steady and soothing.

If he could stay with her, he thought, he could endure anything. Even if he never changed back, even if he couldn't be a Meister, as long as he had this, he would survive.

A contented little sigh escaped him. His eyelids sank shut.

An odd, warm tingling crept over his skin, waking him from a half-doze. He opened his eyes and found himself gazing at Maka's sleeping face. His hand rested on her neck.

He lifted the hand and looked at it in astonishment. He touched his own shoulder, his chest, his face. His skin was warm and human.

Maka's eyes opened, soft and drowsy. They widened in shock. "Chrona, you did it!" She seized him in a tight hug, laughing breathlessly. He hugged her back, dizzy with relief.

Just like that, everything was okay.

Ragnarok burst out of his back and looked back and forth. "Hey, how the hell did we get here?" he asked. "Weren't we just outside? Where's everyone else?"

Maka muffled a giggle behind one hand.

Ragnarok flailed his tiny arms. "What's so damn funny? Did I black out or something?"

"It's a little difficult to explain," Chrona said. He glanced down at himself, and a blush rose into his cheeks. He tugged the sheets over his body. Maka had seen him naked before, but even now, the old shyness still crept over him whenever he was exposed to her eyes. It would take some getting used to.

"Chrona's witch powers manifested for the first time today," Maka said to Ragnarok. "He changed into a salamander. You were asleep, that's all."

"A salamander, huh?" He looked down at Chrona. "Figures. Well, next time do me a favor and warn me."

"S-sorry. I didn't know it was going to happen."

"Tch." He vanished into Chrona's body with a wet, slurping sound.

Maka reached up and touched his cheek. There was a look of wonder in her eyes. "So, how did you change back?"

"I don't know. It just sort of…happened."

"Well, Dr. Stein did say it would happen naturally if you let it. Maybe you just needed to relax."

"Maybe." Now that he knew he could change back, he felt better about the whole idea of transforming. Maybe it would be useful. Even if he changed again in the future, he wasn't worried that he'd get stuck that way. The idea seemed silly, now that he thought about it.

But something else had occurred to him—something far more troubling. He bit his lower lip and averted his gaze.

"Chrona?"

At first, he wasn't sure he should say anything. He wanted to just bask in the relief of the moment with Maka, not make her worried all over again. But Maka always knew when something was wrong. There was no point in trying to keep things from her. "Until today, I wasn't sure if I'd inherited any witch magic from Medusa," he said quietly. "I'm part human, so…I thought maybe it wouldn't happen. But it did." His mouth had gone dry. He swallowed. "I'm a witch."

"That doesn't matter. You're still you."

"But it does matter." He met her gaze. "The s-sway of magic…the power that makes witches want to do bad things…will that start affecting me now? W-will I…will I start going crazy, or wanting to hurt people?"

"Whatever happens, we'll deal with it," she said.

His fingers tightened on the sheets. "I don't want to hurt you," he whispered. "I don't want to hurt anyone."

"You won't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know you. I know you're a good person."

His breathing quickened. "B-but if the magic is evil, and it's a part of me…maybe that's who I really am inside. Maybe I'm evil, deep down, and I always have been. Maybe…"

"Good or evil isn't something you're born as," Maka said. "It's a choice. That's what it means to have a soul. Sure, there are a lot of things about our lives and our personalities that we can't control, and a lot of things that influence us toward good or bad, but in the end, it's our decisions that make us who we are. And you are a good person, Chrona…because that's what you choose to be. That's not something anyone or anything can take away from you." She rubbed his back gently. "You've spent your whole life dealing with the black blood and the madness. I have faith that you'll be able to deal with this. And you're not alone. You have all your friends here to help you."

He thought about this for a moment, then nodded. "You're right." No matter what happened, he decided—no matter what the magic did to his mind—he wouldn't harm his friends. He'd find some way to control it. He had to.

He hugged her close, and Maka rested her head against his shoulder. Her arms slipped around his waist. He closed his eyes, just savoring the feeling of her body against his. "This is nice," he murmured.

"Hm?"

"This. I missed this feeling."

She hugged him tighter. "Me too." She turned her head, and her lips brushed against his. A little thrill raced down his spine. He pressed his lips more firmly to hers. They were warm. Soft.

Chrona had spent most of his life hating his own body; its strangeness, its frailty, its scars. He'd never really appreciated it, until this moment—what a wonderful thing it was just to be a human hugging another human.

Being small enough to cuddle against her neck and curl up in her palm had been nice, too. He wouldn't mind doing it again sometime. But there was nothing quite like the sensation of holding her.

"So what is this thing you wanted to show me?" Ragnarok asked. "It better be worth it. If you dragged me out here at the buttcrack of dawn for something stupid, I'm stealing your breakfast."

"Just watch." Chrona took a deep breath and stretched his arms out. For a moment he stood motionless, staring at the man-sized rock in front of him as he gathered his concentration. The desert was silent and calm, the sky mostly dark, the horizon painted with gray dawn light. He'd come out here because he didn't want to risk disturbing anyone in Death City or damaging any property, but Ragnarok had complained during the whole walk.

He hoped this would work. He hadn't attempted it since that first time. But if he'd done it once, he could do it again—right?

He shouted, "Sala-mala-mala-mander!"

Pink lightning arched from his palms and struck the rock with a deafening crack. The rock split in half. Smoke rose from the blackened mass.

"Whoa!" Ragnarok shouted. "Did that just come out of your hands? Damn, that's crazy!"

A tiny, pleased smile grew from one corner of Chrona's mouth.

"But why the hell is it pink?"

Chrona paused. "Wh-what's wrong with it being pink?"

"It's only the gayest color on the planet! Damn! You get the power to shoot lightning out of your hands, and it's pink? Why are all your attacks gay or emo?"

"My attacks aren't emo," he muttered.

"Yes they are. You fight by cutting yourself and throwing your blood at people. Hell, if you could find a way to weaponize your depressing poetry, you'd probably be an invincible paragon of lameness. Just read it over a loudspeaker and watch all your enemies hang themselves."

Chrona sighed softly. "You're just jealous because you can't shoot lightning out of your hands."

"Okay, fine, I'm a tiny bit jealous. Still, if I could do it, you can bet it wouldn't be a dumb color like pink. It would be black, like the depths of my badass soul."

"Your soul is more pinkish-red."

"Shut up."

Chrona turned. "We should head back. Before Maka and Soul wake up and wonder where we are." He began walking back toward Death City.

"So," Ragnarok says, "does this mean you're officially a witch?"

Chrona froze…then kept walking. He clutched his arm. "Yes."

"So what happens now?"

"I don't know," he said. But he found, strangely, that he wasn't afraid…or at least, not nearly as afraid as he'd expected to be. Anxiety still stirred inside him when he thought about all the things that could go wrong. The sway of magic might start affecting his thoughts, and once word got out that he was a full-fledged witch, the people in Death City who hated him would probably hate him even more.

But despite all that, the deep, cold dread he'd anticipated simply wasn't there. It would be difficult, but he'd been through worse. To his surprise, he felt a tiny smile tugging at his lips as he walked homeward. Whatever the future threw at him, he would face it with his friends beside him.

Salamanders were survivors.

-The End