Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater.
note: this story will make more sense if you read chapter 84 of the Soul Eater manga.

Soundless
by. Poisoned Scarlet

He stared at the blade of his scythe and watched his arm transform back into bone and flesh.

Then he did it again, the blade reflecting the melancholy and frustration in his eyes.

He sat up in his bed, the sheets rumpled under him, and concentrated on his blade – willed for it to transform into that keyboard, with the ivory tabs and black strips that could produce the music that sang from deep within the very base of his soul – !

"Ah – fuck!" Soul hissed, shifting his arm back to normal. He gripped it, massaged the bone and muscle that seared with protest at his ruthless commands. "Why can't I do it again?" He thought aloud, falling back on his bed.

He stared at his ceiling this time.

The day he had been thrown into the abyss of insanity still haunted him. Now, weeks later, his dreams were plagued with images of that malignant keyboard and the powerful sound waves it had delivered with a simple press of the keys.

But he couldn't summon that strength again.

It seemed to be sealed inside of him, untouchable once more, and he often mused if the only way he could summon the instrument would be by stepping through the slimy curtains of insanity...

Fuck this. Soul scowled. He rose his hand, silently tracing the lines and scars that lined it from years of working under Death. Why can't I do it? Is going insane the only way I could...? No. There had to be a way to summon that devils instrument.

Falling into the pit of insanity could not be the only way.

Soul's hand fell on his chest as he focused within himself.

Instantly, he was transported into the dwelling within him: the Black Room.

He pushed the massive iron doors open, stepping inside. A suit materialized itself upon his body with every calculated step until he was completely clothed in the best attire his mind could conjure. Dress shoes shining under the baking spotlight, silence dominating the scene, Soul Eater allowed his eyes to cautiously rove over the entire room.

The phonograph's needle was still and not skipping today.

The wrought-iron high chair his little menace sat in with that haughty, insufferable, grin was vacant.

His own armchair was lonesome, the black cheery wood carved with roses and vines wiped clean of any dust or wear.

And the piano, the grand piano so reminiscent of that demonic keyboard he had produced in his insane fit, stood extravagantly in the center of the room. Its glossed surface shone with the light, clean and spotless, and the piano bench beckoned him to sit and rest his fingers upon the gleaming ivory keys...

"Hello there, Soul Eater."

Soul stiffened. "...Where have you been?" He turned deliberately, just as the little demon drew himself up to full height and cocked his head curiously.

"Around." It drawled. "What brings you here at this time of night? Or should I say, day?" He added, humored. "Should you not be getting ready to head toward that grueling school of yours before your partner becomes upset?"

"I have a question."

Little Ogre rose a brow, intrigued. "Oh? That's new. Ask away!"

"That day – when the black blood reacted to the insanity produced by Chrona." Soul began, watching the demon hawk-like for anything that may give him away. "That keyboard..."

"Ah, yes, I was wondering when you'd ask about that." Little Ogre smiled predatorily, walking toward his wrought-iron chair and hopping onto it. "I assume you want to know how to... summon it?"

"Yeah." Soul watched as he sat down, all smug and confident. It pissed him off. Soul restrained his anger for the sake of suckering out all the information he could from the little demon. "There has to be another way for me to use it without needing to go crazy."

"You're right: there is." Little Ogre agreed, a nasty smirk crawling on his lips. His spindly fingers snapped once before he rested them placidly on his lap. "You don't have to submit yourself to the black blood... but you do have to pay a price in order to use it."

Soul frowned, not liking where this was going. "What is it?"

"You have to resonate with your partner." Little Ogre began, eagerly. "Resonance would boil the blood that runs through your veins enough so you may be able to summon that keyboard once more, without the usage of insanity. However, the prices comes in... allowing some of the black blood to transfer into your partners body – !"

"Fuck you." Soul spat instantly. He turned away from the creature sitting loftily on the chair. "You keep Maka out of this! If that's what it takes for me to use that shitty keyboard, then I'd rather just buy one myself! That was all I wanted to know. Thanks for wasting my time."

Little Ogre scowled, obviously offended by his fierce reaction. "No need to yell! You were the one who wanted to know!"

"Yeah, yeah." Soul scoffed. "Whatever. I better 'wake up' before Maka kicks me off the bed again..." And with that he stepped out of the Black Room, his pinstriped suit dissolving along with the entire dwelling, and soon he was gazing up at the ceiling streaked with streams of golden sunlight.

"So uncool..." Soul breathed, sitting up. Just as he did, the door to his bedroom creaked open and he looked to see Maka holding a spatula in one hand, peeking inside to wake him up for another day of school.

"Soul – oh, you're awake!" Maka blinked, astounded he was awake at such ungodly hours of the morning, as he often grumbled. He was also dressed, which further stunned her. "You're up early today, what's the occasion? You're usually not up until I kick you off the bed!" She eyed him suspiciously.

Soul rolled his eyes. "No reason. I just woke up early today."

Her suspicious expression melted into one of sympathy when she noticed the dark rings under his eyes. She entered the room and sat beside him on his bed, placing the spatula on her lap. "Did you have another nightmare?" She softly asked.

Soul made no move to indicate otherwise.

Maka dropped her eyes to her lap. "You know..." She began, testily. "If – if they're really that bad, you can always talk to me about them. Maybe it'll help talking about it – !"

"Hey, is breakfast ready?" Soul suddenly asked, standing up. He walked out of his door, pausing once to look over his shoulder. "C'mon, hurry up." His voice was detached. "Before we're late. I thought you were aiming for Perfect Attendance or something." And he disappeared from sight before she could reply.

Maka gripped the spatula tightly in her hand, jaw taut. She felt tears prick her eyes at his blatant rejection but she bravely sucked them back in. After taking a few calming breaths, Maka heaved herself up and walked into the kitchen, where she saw Soul had served himself breakfast and was eating as if nothing had transpired between them.

As if he hadn't just totally blown her off.

Pursing her lips, anger licking her heart, Maka huffily served herself breakfast and ate in silence; intentionally ignoring his attempts at casual conversation. When she finished, her chair screeched back loudly, and she dumped the plate into the sink clamorously.

"You're washing them." Maka flatly ordered, ignoring his gawk. "And hurry up or we'll be late!"

"What? But I washed them yesterday – !" Soul winced when Maka stormed to her room and slammed the door behind her hard enough to rattle the frames on the walls. He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Man, this is not cool...what's her damn problem...?"

But his thoughts strayed from his meister's rage to his keyboard dilemma again. There was no way he would be able to summon the keyboard unless he were resonating with Maka; but that would, in turn, place her in harms way, which he couldn't have no matter what...

The plate he washed reflected passionless crimson eyes and he darted them away, to his arm.

He stored the plate in the rack and rose his arm, closing his eyes.

It wouldn't hurt to try once more, right?

Maka stopped and backtracked when she saw Soul standing in front of the sink motionlessly. She watched Soul focus, her eyes widening when his arm shifted into a sickle blade with a flash of light. It stayed like that, normal, unmoving, but she gasped when she saw the ripple of what looked like black and white tabs disturb the usually bloody red surface.

Then Soul's face twisted with pain and he flinched back, his hip hitting the stove, and his other hand gripping his arm.

"Soul!" Maka shouted, alarmed. "Soul, are you okay?"

"What – yeah. I'm fine." Soul masked his surprise, removing the fingers he'd dug into his arm quickly. His arm still burned, as if the blood beneath his skin was trying to knife its way to the surface, but he hid the pain well from his meister. "It's nothing. Just, uh, got a cramp."

"But – !"

"It's fine, Maka, jeez." Soul scowled, rubbing his neck. "Just got a cramp, that's all—!"

"It wasn't a cramp, you liar! Why can't you just trust me?" Maka screamed, fists clenched by her sides."Why do you have to keep everything to yourself all the time? We're partners, Soul – you can trust me with anything!" Maka shouted, locking eyes with his own guarded ones. "I'm not just here to train you, I'm here as your friend, too!"

"I know that."

Maka pressed her lips together, eyes misting with enraged tears again. "No, you don't. If you did, you would have come to me the first night you dreamt about that damn keyboard!" She turned away from his stunned stare and grabbed her schoolbag from the couch, heading toward the front door briskly.

"Maka! Maka, wait, how do you know about that—?"

She slammed the door behind her.

Soul groaned.

"Way to go, Soul..." He glanced down at his arm wearily. "What's your problem? It's just a stupid keyboard. So not cool..." He sighed and dragged himself to his room to grab his backpack, then left after her only to discover, to his great annoyance and concern, that she had decided to walk to Shibusen that morning.

It wouldn't have bothered him as much if Shibusen weren't roughly two miles away from their apartment.

This wasn't cool.

He stared at the desk that misted with his breath. Rows below, he could hear Stein drone endlessly about the evolution of Kishin Eggs. One row below his, he could hear Black Star snickering about something with Kilik. A row above him, he could hear Kid mutter to himself as he fixed the lettering in his name to match his symmetry ideal.

And beside him, he heard the familiar scritch scratch of pencil as Maka copied down the days notes meticulously.

There was a burn that simmered deep inside the cavity of his chest at her intentional aloofness. He turned his head, lifting it enough to see Maka coolly reread the page of notes before moving onto another clean sheet of paper. He watched as she peeled one out of her binder, cracking her fingers to prepare for another long session with her pencil and thoughts.

"Hey."

Maka stalled for a heartbeat before she continued with her routine.

"Did it bother you that much?"

She was already two lines strong, continuing her note-taking as if no one had spoken. But he saw it: the nerve that jutted in her jaw, that showed him she heard him loud and clear.

"Tch." He turned away, digging his fingers into his arm. It still echoed with the pain of forcing transformation. "Don't get too offended by it, there isn't anything that you can do to help me anyway."

"Shut up."

He tensed, looking back and expecting to be clocked by one of her novels again.

She was no longer taking notes: the pencil in her hand had cracked in half, to his bewilderment.

"I'll be the judge of that." She turned burning emerald eyes to him and hissed: "Don't assume that just because I can't understand music, that doesn't mean I can't understand your desire for it. Because you're wrong, Soul. I do."

His eyes wide, he only managed to breathe her name before Stein slammed a meter stick down on someones desk.

It was Black Star, naturally. He had been texting someone and now Stein was glaring at the device in his hand, demanding it before he decided taking it apart with his Soul Menace would be the best approach.

Black Star narrowed his eyes, daring him to try.

Tsubaki hid her face in her hands.

Maka returned to writing notes.

Kid hadn't noticed the interruption at all; too engrossed in writing his name.

Liz snickered when Stein snatched the phone away in a blink of an eye.

Patty laughed raucously when he slipped it into his lab coats pocket with promises of giving it back later - perhaps at the end of the year, or when he remembered.

And Soul returned to feigning sleep, watching his breath fog the wood, and thinking that perhaps his meister wasn't as naïve as he had once believed she was.

She surprised him, when the dismissal bell rung, by taking his wrist and dragging him away from their crowd of friends: primarily Black Star and Tsubaki, whom they shared the final class of the day with.

"You know, we were supposed to meet Black Star and the others out in the front for a game of basketball..." Soul trailed off, standing in the forest used primarily for training. Maka had her back turned to him, doing something he couldn't see. Sou shifted his weight, frowning. "Maka, what are you up to? We don't train on Fridays."

"You're right. That's because we're not training today." Maka turned and revealed glove-less hands. She seemed unsure, holding the gloves in her hand rigidly before she bravely tossed them on the floor by her feet. "We're doing something else. I got the idea while we were in class today."

His eyes sharpened. "I have an idea of what it is... and I won't let you do it." His frown deepened into a scowl. "I wasn't kidding when I said there wasn't anything you could do. If you tried to help, you'd get infected as well. I can't risk that."

"Infected?" Maka repeated, curiosity piqued. "With the Black Blood you mean?"

"Yeah." Soul stuffed his hands into his pockets. "So, do you get it now? It's not that I don't want you to help, it's that you can't – !"

"Pfft... Hahaha!" Maka suddenly laughed, baffling him.

"What the – why the hell are you laughing? Idiot, this isn't something you should be taking so lightly!" Soul fiercely shouted, as her giggles grew louder. "If you get infected with the black blood, too... I wouldn't know what to do with myself." He looked down, grim. "So shut up. It isn't funny."

"Soul, this is why I'm the brains in the group." Maka smiled, humored. He looked up but said nothing. "There's no way the black blood would be able to infect me, even if it did manage to get into my bloodstream."

"What...?"

"My Anti-Magic Wavelength would exterminate it before it even managed to control me, remember?" Maka explained, watching as realization widened his eyes. "It's the reason why you haven't lost your mind yet – that and your will power. I've gotten infected with black blood once, too, when we fought Free... Medusa thought she would be able to finish us when that happened, but she didn't anticipate me inheriting my mothers Anti-Magic Wavelength." Her smile brightened. "So, you see, I can help you after all!"

There was a moment when nothing could be said.

It was uncool, how words wouldn't come to him; how she was so persistent in helping him acquire that demonic keyboard because he had gotten a rather unhealthy fixation with the instrument ever since it appeared.

So, instead, he grinned.

A wide, jagged, grin that sent shivers down any one who saw.

Anyone but Maka.

"Heh...This is why you're so cool, Maka." He drawled, a glint in his eye. Maka was too distracted by the bareness of her hands to notice the unstable glimmer in his eyes. "You always know what to do even when no one else does." He held out a hand, muscles tense with excitement. "So, who will lead today...?"

Her hands were shaking.

They felt too bare.

And her plan was dangerous; she had witnessed firsthand how Soul became when insanity overtook his mind. But to see the spark of genuine happiness that softened his apathetic features into a fondness she only fantasized of would make it all worth it...

So she took his hand and said, with a strong smile: "I'll lead this time."

His grin only widened as their resonance rate skyrocketed.

"Cool."

Then it went black.

Are you serious?

You've got to be kidding me...all for that dumb kid to make that sort of face again?

You're going through all this trouble... to see him smile?

She ran.

It was dark and she could only see in front of her.

She didn't know what she was doing, how exactly she had ended up in a pit of darkness, but with every step there was a chime of sound and it propelled her forward. Ahead, there was only black, but she knew there had to be something because that was where the sound came from.

You're more naïve than I thought.

Or maybe you're just dumb.

Her foot sunk in something – no, it pressed something.

And that was when she realized the sound she had been running to wasn't ahead of her at all.

It was below her.

"What... piano keys...?" Maka whispered, staring at them. It was a road, she realized, composed of black and white keys. Her eyes traced up the winding path that led to more black. Where had she fallen when she resonated with Soul? Where had he dropped her off when they achieved maximum power...?

Why do you look so surprised?

"Ah!" Maka swiveled around, raising an arm in defense. She only saw a road of ivory keys, nothing in that direction but the curtain of black she'd burst through in her blind run for light. "Who's there? Soul?"

Soul? I guess you can call me that.

"No, you're not Soul..." Maka looked to her right, swallowing. She turned suddenly and was met with the sleazy grin of Little Ogre. Only he wasn't hideously demonic, with those straggly arms and saw-like teeth.

Instead, a washed out imitation of Soul, grayish and pale, stood before her.

"You."

"Aw, hey." Little Ogre, grinning the grin of Soul, mocked-hurt. "What's with the tone? You don't look very happy to see me... What's the difference between me and that Soul, anyway? We both look the same, we talk the same, we walk the same, we even think the same."

Maka scoffed. "Please, as if you and Soul could ever think the same! You may resemble him in appearance but that's the only thing you resemble him in! You're not him – you'll never be him! You're just a manifestation of insanity. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Oh, my." Little Ogre knocked on his chest, where his heart should be. His grin became a little twisted. "That hurts me right here, y'know? That brat and I are one of the same; a coin with two faces. What he feels, I feel. And what I feel, he feels."

Maka narrowed her eyes.

"But you're right." His grin faded to a thin line. His eyes shadowed. "We are, in the end, two separate entities with two separate motives. Resemblance is where our similarities end, which is a shame, in my opinion." His hand slipped back into his pocket. His gray suit only made his pasty white skin stand out. "What do you want, girl. You're not just here to run aimlessly in the dark, are you?"

"The keyboard that Soul summoned when he was insane. We want to bring it out again without needing to use the black blood." Maka cut to the chase.

"Eh? This old thing?" His dull shoes pressed a key under him, producing a deep sound. "You traveled all the way out here to summon this useless thing? What a waste of time. The only way you could do that is if you drowned him in insanity. Which," he smiled secretively, "I'm not against doing, if you so wish it."

"Stop screwing around, I know we can summon that power without needing insanity! The rate of our resonance should be enough and you know it!" Maka stated fiercely. Little Ogre's grin faltered. "If my predictions are correct, once Soul manages to summon the keyboard out of his subconscious with the help of our resonance, he'll be able to trace back its location and summon it again without my help..."

Little Ogre stared.

His blank stare made her uncomfortable.

She bunched her skirt in her hands to keep them from trembling.

"You think it's that easy?" He asked, with that same blank look on his face. "That you can just waltz right on in here and take what you like? Just because he gave you permission to trample all over his soul doesn't mean you own it. I live here, too. This is my domain as well, and I'm not giving this power to you without a fight." His face contorted into something ugly. "It's the least I can do after being imprisoned here!"

The road distorted, wobbled, and Maka leaped back to avoid an attack from Little Ogre, who snarled and slit open his wrists, drawing out sticky black blood that shifted into the harrowing shape of a scythe.

"C'mon, this isn't fun." He hissed, raising an ink black scythe. "Fight back, Maka Albarn. Justify Soul Eater's fixation with you. Show me why he admires you so much – give me a fucking reason to tremble under you like he does!"

"What – are you talking about?" Maka screamed when she was blown back by the impact of his attack, rolling across the keys. A harsh stream of noise echoed in her wake. She nearly toppled over the edge, her wide eyes staring down at the pit of black below. That was close, but now she had another problem: taking care of the little demon that had sealed Soul's full-potential in the first place. "You're wrong! Soul isn't afraid of me!"

"He is." Little Ogre leered, heaving the scythe to his shoulder. "He fears many things. Failing in his duty, befriending others, trusting others, being looked down upon by others, disappointing his family more than he already has... but, most of all, he fears you because he fears never being able to live up to your standards." He grinned, nastily. "He fears never being able to penetrate those stone walls you've put up. But he fears your absence more than anything else, if you ask me, because then he'd have no one." Little Ogre smirked. "Again."

Maka accidentally pressed a black tab with her hand, E flat ringing out sharply, and picked herself off the floor before Little Ogre could strike again. Right as she did, her eyes lingered on her hands. They were very pale, due to being concealed with gloves half the time, and bloody from when she'd blocked an attack by Little Ogre. But the blood wasn't her own: it was his, black and sticky. It felt dirty on her skin.

Maybe taking off her gloves hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

"Don't get distracted now." Little Ogre whispered in her ear, earning a shriek from her.

She narrowly avoided being beheaded by his black scythe.

"Damn it - !" Maka dodged right to avoid another swing, the rabid rage that burned within Little Ogres eyes beginning to frighten her. He was attacking her for more reasons than simply wanting to summon that keyboard out, Maka dreaded. What other reasons were still vague to her, as she took a few steps back and wracked her brain for an idea; for anything at all that may get her out of this sticky situation.

"It's no fun when all you're doing is running away!" He sneered, watching her roll out of the way as he swung.

"You're not giving me much of a choice here!" Maka snapped. "I don't even have a weapon, you coward!"

"Not my problem." He drawled, grinning as he rose his scythe again. "You weak-minded, flat-chested, wench of a girl!"

"Ugh... MAKA CHOP!" Maka rose her hand, slamming it down on his skull. Little Ogre howled in pain, stumbling back. But he regained his focus quicker than she'd imagined, swinging his scythe with a loud roar. "What - that should've knocked you out!" Maka sputtered.

"Think again." Little Ogre chuckled darkly. "I'm quite different than the Soul you know. For one, I don't allow myself to be hit on purpose. And, secondly, it'll take a lot more than a measly chop on the head to incapacitate me." He swung, nicking her on the shoulder. The scythe was razor sharp, Maka saw with a plummet of her heart, and the slice on her arm burned as if he had cut deeper than he actually did.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" He laughed. "Take a closer look."

Maka did a double-take. She reached up in a panic, raking her nails over the gash. The black blood seemed to be slithering in through the wound, spreading through her blood. She winced as she opened the wound up a little more, squeezing out whatever remains of the infected blood she could although she knew it was a feeble attempt. She could only hope her Anti-Magic Wavelength would purify her when she stopped resonating with Soul...

"Soul refused for your help because the only way you could help him summon that keyboard is by becoming infected with the Black Blood, too." Little Ogre explained, calmly. "I suppose he'll get his wish anyway... it's inside of you now, after all."

"Have you forgotten about my Anti-Magic Wavelength?" Maka winced when her arm gave a harsh pulse of pain.

"No, I don't think so." He drawled, unconcerned. "You and Soul are one right now. Your Anti-Magic Wavelength has taken priority to purifying Soul's blood, in vain I tell you, so as long as you stay like this for a while... the black blood may burn its way into your bloodstream without that pesky skill of yours getting in the way. Then Soul will really know what loneliness and guilt feels like." He cackled, madly. "I can hardly wait!"

"...You two really are separate entities." She grunted, holding her arm to her chest. She could feel the burn gradually subside with the flare of her own soul.

Little Ogre frowned, dropping his scythe for a second. Black blood dribbled onto the white keys. "What're you blabbering on about now, girl?"

"Because if you knew anything about him, then you'd know that Soul tore down those walls a long time ago." Maka looked down at the keyboard, the identical keys that littered the floor. Her eyes were drawn to one in particular and she jumped toward it before Little Ogre could realize what she was up to. "And if you really knew him, you'd know that Soul has nothing to fear because he's already lived up to my expectations! He went beyond them!"

She stepped on the key.

"He'll never disappoint me! And he has more friends than he thinks he does!"

G.

"And he should know better than anyone else," Maka fiercely said, the burn completely gone, "that I would never leave his side unless he wanted me to."

Little Ogre froze, paralyzed on the single key he stood on. The ink black scythe melted in his hand, blood spattering the keys and his dull shoes. His face twisted into something carnal but before he could even utter a word, the key broke off and Maka watched as he descended into darkness without a single sound. She stopped pressing the key and breathed out in relief, wiping away some black blood on her skirt. "That was too close for comfort..."

"What're you muttering about? What took you so long?"

"AH!" Maka jumped and nearly tripped on one of the keys.

"Hey, watch it!" Soul seized her wrist and steadied her, chuckling at her bewilderment. "Just because you're in my unconscious doesn't mean you can't get hurt."

Maka stubbornly swatted his hand away, locking them behind her. The pose was so typical that Soul couldn't help another snort of laughter.

"What?" Maka mumbled, feeling her face heat. "What's so funny? I got what you wanted, right? Now you can use it whenever you want..." Her hands loosened and Maka looked at them again, conflictingly. "See? You were wrong all along: I can help you. Just because I don't get music doesn't mean I can't help you with your passion."

"Yeah, I guess I was wrong." He admitted, also gazing at her hands. "So, now will you let me help you?"

"What?" Maka snapped her head up in confusion. "What do you mean? I don't need help..."

"Hey, that's not cool. Don't make the same mistake I did." Soul strode forward, reaching for her bare hand. She flinched, pressing them to her chest. Soul was not dissuaded. "You took them off for a reason, right? What were you trying to prove... you've always worn gloves. You never took them off, only to sleep and when we were off assignments. And even then, you never let anyone touch your hands... so why did you take them off knowing this was inevitable?"

Maka dropped her eyes.

"What did you want to prove?"

"I just..." Maka faltered, protectively pressing her hands to her chest. "I just wanted to test something, that's all."

Soul held his hand out again.

He smiled when she only stared dumbly at it.

"Give me your hand."

She didn't move.

"C'mon, Maka." He arranged his expression so it wasn't as gruff. It was a cross between amusement and gentleness, a look that ratcheted the anxiety fluttering in her stomach because she knew it wouldn't be long before the look disarmed her again. "You've never failed a test before, right? Why start now? Take my hand." He rose his outstretched hand coaxingly. "Trust me."

With a brave swallow, hand trembling terribly, she reached out and her fingers brushed his hand. His own wrapped around hers tightly, never letting go even when she startled and tried to take back her hand. Instead, he pressed his other hand over them.

"See?" Soul eased. Maka's tense shoulders relaxed but she didn't stop leaning back, standing as far away from him as she could. "That wasn't too hard, now, was it?"

Maka shook her head, staring at their hands.

"So we were both being idiots for different reasons. I say, as long as we can learn to rely on each other, it doesn't matter. And now we can." He rose their locked hands, grinning: "No holding back. Cool, huh?"

Maka gazed at their tangled hands and smiled. She took a cautious step forward and then another until she was standing close to him, able to feel the artificial warmth of his body.

"No holding back..." Her fingers tightened around his. "Do you... promise?"

Soul scoffed. "I haven't broken a promise yet, have I?"

Maka's smile became radiant and he could do nothing more than hold her when she shook her head vigorously and jumped on him.

But he lost his footing when she whispered thank you into his ear.

He was still dazed by her smile, the heat of her breath and the brush of her lips on his ear.

She was too busy celebrating the layers of mistrust they'd formally shed before one other.

"Shit." Soul gasped, when his foot left solid ground and he felt nothing under him for the second time that day.

And then they woke up.

"Ow!"

"What was that all about?" Maka groaned, blinking away the bright light that dotted her vision. She turned her head to shield herself from the sunlight, one hand rubbing her other since it hurt. Although Soul's grip had become deathly when they fell back in his subconscious, she didn't think she'd somatize the pain!

"Beats me. We fell, and I guess that woke us up." Soul grumbled, sitting up. "That was fucking terrifying." He deadpanned for both of them.

"I don't really remember it anymore." Maka mumbled. It was always weird, the after-effects once she came back from his soul. She wondered if traveling into another persons soul was even normal – she'd certainly never heard of anyone else doing it. Then again, if someone else did, wouldn't it be too of an intimate experience to openly share with everyone...? "But my head hurts."

"No kidding." Soul rubbed his own aching head. "Man, you really pissed him off if my head hurts so much. Bet he's making a ruckus again."

"Where were you, anyway?"

"What'd'ya mean? Where were you?" Soul shot back. "You were holding my hand and next thing I know, you're gone and the Black Room is empty. It was until I heard you call out my name that I came looking for you!"

"Call out...? I didn't call out your name." Maka faltered. Soul stared.

"You didn't?"

"No, I pressed a key... I think it was G... and then that thing disappeared when a key broke off. Then you showed up!"

"Huh, that's weird. I'm pretty sure I heard you calling my name." Soul muttered, brushing off the strange feeling. "But if the little red bastard disappeared, then maybe it worked." He stared hard at his hand. "Maybe I can bring it out again..."

"You can try." Maka dusted herself off as she stood, picking off small twigs and clumps of dirt that had stuck on when she collapsed. "You should be able to. But if you can't, we can always – !"

A.

"Ouch!" Maka cried out, holding her ears against the sharp sound. She stumbled back, wide-eyed as she stared at the instrument that shifted out of her partners arm. It took the sickle shape of the scythe, however the black and white tabs stood out prominently on its surface.

"Hey, you okay?" Soul asked, concerned. He'd just pressed a random key, not expecting that.

"Yeah, just watch where you aim that thing." Maka massaged her temples. The sound had pierced through her, blown her back a few inches. It made her head throb. "It's not a toy, Soul, it's a weapon!"

"Yeah, I know." Soul rolled his eyes, turning away from her and pressing another key. Soul played with it, pressing a few keys here and there, trying out a simple melody. What he didn't notice were the way the leaves around him blew away; how the tree branches swayed when his melodies grew stronger with his confidence; how the dirt began to kick up, as if pulses were blowing past it.

"Soul..."

"What?" He asked, distractedly.

"I think you might wanna' look up..."

"What do you..." Soul's jaw slacked when he saw that the bark of the tree in front of him was cracked in ringlets. When he pressed a few more keys, the crack deepened. His awe shifted quickly to smirking victory. "Cool – did you see that? I guess since my attacks are sound-based, I can control the frequency of it! Awesome! Man, this is gonna' come in handy when we go up against witches! They'll never expect such a cool move!"

Maka watched, eyes softening, as Soul ranted on and on; his crimson eyes sparkling, a genuine grin lifting his lips. He looked happy, something he didn't often look, and that made nearly getting slaughtered by the imp in his head worth it.

"Can I..." Maka trailed off but continued when he paused his rant to let her speak. "Can I touch it?"

Soul rolled his eyes, extending the keyboard to her. "Duh, you have to ask? Go ahead." He watched her cautiously hover a finger over a key. But when her finger pressed it, something strange happened: Soul was nearly blown away, a surge of power shooting through him before he could even blink. He knew this feeling: it was her soul wavelength, amplified.

"Holy shit – what did you do?" Soul squawked, wide-eyed.

"N-nothing! I just pressed the key!" Maka stammered. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, but..." Soul eyed his keyboard, retracting it. Maka watched him shake out his arm, a wry grin on his face. "We're gonna' have to mess around with this for a bit before we can use it. It amplified your wavelength, which is weird, but I can probably control it like I usually do when I'm a weapon." Soul summoned the keyboard out a few more times by himself; until he felt confident that he was able to call it out without the aid of his meister.

"We're going to need lots of training if we're going to use that new attack." Maka surmised with a firm nod.

Soul grinned toothily. "Guess we're gonna' be staying afterschool again, huh?"

"Yep! Every Tuesday, Friday and Saturday!"

"What? No, not Saturday!" Soul whined. That was his chill day; his favourite day to laze around, to hang out with their friends, or do nothing. "We always have stuff to do on Saturday's!"

"Fine, how about...Sunday?"

"Yeah, alright." Soul shrugged. Sunday's were usually spent wasting time, like Saturday's, only on Sunday's they were always alone together. They might as well be alone together training. "Let's get back, it's getting late. So, what's for dinner again?"

"I don't know – it's your turn to cook, remember?"

"..."

"You forgot again, didn't you?"

"No... I totally remember." Soul inched away from her, sweating bullets at her narrowed eyes. He ran a hand through his hair and began to walk back to where he parked his bike, Maka following in suit. "I know what we're gonna' eat tonight!"

"It better be good..."

"It will be!" He coughed, ignoring her skeptical look.

That evening was spent eating cup noodles again, Maka glaring at him as she slurped up her dinner and Soul rolling his eyes and doing the same.

But she didn't flinch when their fingers touched as he took her empty ramen cup.

And he swallowed his pride and confessed that his arm was sore from forcing transformation, and that he could really use one of those icy-hot patches she used after long missions.