Maka stood before a full-length mirror, clad in her bra and panties. She looked carefully into her reflection, turning from side to side, focusing on her chest. She sighed. Not as flat as before, she thought. She could not fret over her small bust, however. She flexed her right arm. A black and green blade burst out of her elbow with a flash of bright white light, replacing flesh and bone. Maka held her blade/arm in front of her.

She grunted in satisfaction. After months of training with Stein, trying to get her mind, body, and soul relaxed enough to hold it's Demon steel state, she could transform at will.

She slid her left leg behind her, and bent her knees into a fighting stance. She swung her blade/arm, slicing air as she would a kishin. She mimicked the moves Soul made during past fights, thrusting and parrying like a fencer with a rapier. She spun and brought her blade/arm close to her reflection's throat, kissing the glass with the sharp edge. The blade/arm scraped the mirror, creating a piercing screech, scratching the smooth surface. Maka winced.

She leaned closer to her own reflection. Eye to eye with her reflection, she could see her own pupils dilated from the exercise; the small beads of sweat forming allow her hair line. Her skin was flushed, highlighting her cheekbones and chest. Her gaze trailed down to where her skin made the abrupt shift from soft white to harsh black and solid green, her panting breath fogging away the shine of her blade, solid and unyielding like metal, yet warm and pulsing with life like flesh.

She stuck her tongue out at her nearly naked reflection.

Stupid.

Maka tapped the heels of her shoes together against the yellowing tile of the cold office. She fought o keep her eyes open. The dimly glowing jars of fluid cast a soft, relaxing light across the small space. Maka sat up a little straighter, trying to stay alert. She understood how her father had so many surgery scars now. Being in Stein's office made her feel agitated and sleepy. She strongly suspected that she had encountered the lit candles on the shelves before. Stein's desk was littered with eight sheets of balled up paper, eleven glass beakers, two tennis balls, and a half eaten donut with pink frosting. Maka counted four times to make sure. She shook her head slowly, focused on staying awake. She was sure that her hair had grown in the time she had been siting there, the ash blond ends brushed her collarbone in a way she swore they didn't before she sat down.

Stein, his head buried in the notepad, ignored her wagging head. Maka turned her hands over in her lap and, with a soft flash of light, turned her index fingers into mini-scythe blades. She rubbed them together. Small sparks ignited along the black and green edges. Maka thought about leaving the hospital those few years ago, and discovering she couldn't transform back into her scythe form. At all.

Maka took several deep breaths. She willed herself to stop thinking, concentrating her lungs filling up, releasing the air with an audible shhhhhh. She shifted, aware of Stein's unblinking gaze at the base of her neck. The hardwood floor was cold on her ass, and her back was starting to strain from being upright for so long. Still, she had to try and relax. She willed her shoulders to sink from their turtled position, and fought the buzzing beginnings of both feet falling asleep. She willed the blades in her blood to erupt from her body. Maka, Stein said. You're squinting. If you cannot relax your body and mind, and release your conscious state, you will fail to go into your weapon form. You and your training will stagnate. Keep breathing. No pressure. Maka returned to regulating the flow of air into her lungs. She couldn't plateau in her training. She had to get stronger. Better. Faster. For herself.

And for Soul.

The smoke from Stein's cigarette curled against the ceiling, the gray plume expanding as it faded away. Maka stared at the pockmarked foam tiles, looking for constellations. She struggled to ignore Stein's rapid pen, the scratch-scratch boring into her eardrums. She briefly contemplated turning into a scythe and slicing through his desk, to see if he would react.

Maka watched Stein take a long drag out his cigarette, and then return to scribbling away on his notepad.

No, she reasoned, I'll slice his knob off.

Before she could decide which knob, Stein slammed down his pen and notepad. Maka didn't flinch.

"Maka," he said as if she hadn't been waiting for him to speak for twenty minutes. "Do you want to fight as a weapon?"

Maka straightened in her seat. "Yes, absolutely!"

"Why?"

Maka cocked her head, confused. "Eh, because I'd be the next step in my training? I'd be able to do what no other meister has done before and train as a weapon in addition to my previous training as a meister-"

Stein waved his hand dismissively, burying his face behind a stack of papers. "Weapons can train without a Meister."

"But I've been training with Soul outside of this regular training since the beginning so-"

Stein looked up. His glasses flashed white in the din light. "You've been training without my supervision."

Maka tried not to cower under his stare.

"Y-yes."

"Soul has agreed to this."

Maka nodded fervently. "Yes! He helped me because he's been a weapon for way longer than I have, and we can relax together-"

She stopped, flushing slightly. Stein continued, a small smirk betraying is stark gaze.

"Has he consented to be your meister?"

"Yes! Well, no but-"

"We've spoken about this before, Ms. Albarn. There are no 'buts' in Meistership. Either he agreed to be your meister, or he didn't."

"He… well… he always does…" Maka trailed off, trying to fight the heat that threatened to erupt across her face.

She was his partner, his meister. He teased her, called her Master. He smiled at her, warm and true, and called her Angel. He murmured it against her skin: The back of her hand, behind her ear, the apex of her thighs. She snorted at Master, blushed at Angel, but she gasped when he sighed Maka into her mouth.

"You assumed that he would accept his new role as meister because you, his Meister, commanded it?"

Maka bristled. "N-no! I didn't have to ask! He'd do it because-"

Maka stopped abruptly.

Stein peered at her over his lenses. "Yes, Ms. Albarn?"

Maka burned. She sat, her limbs tightly knotted, and avoided Stein's gaze.

Stein huffed loudly and leaned back. He picked up the same stack of papers and shuffled them again. His eyes scanned the text rapidly.

"In order for you to continue your partnership with Soul Eater, you'll have to formally approach him. A partnership is an agreement, Maka. While you've had a successful one with Soul as your weapon, you might find his opinion of acting as your Meister to differ."

Stein glanced at her side-ways.

"He has the right to refuse you."

Maka's head drooped further, a twinge of pain echoed in her chest. She stood and spun on her heel, and tried not to stomp out of his drab office.

And she certainly did not image the door colliding with Stein face as she slammed it shut.

Nor did she imagine crushing his pale, gray face with those stupid, over-reflective lenses under the heel of her boot.

Soul would flip when he heard what Stein had said-

Maka stopped in her tracks. Her fists clenched by her side. She shut her eyes, and took a deep breath. She held it in, feeling the blood rush to her face. She let it out in one long shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

When she tried to breath again, her breath came in ragged. Maka screwed up her face, and kept in the sob that was clawing it's way out in her throat.

Would he refuse her? She couldn't imagine fighting without him by her side. They were the best version of themselves when they were together, connected in resonance or spirit or body. Her light soul grew heavy. Did he agree?

Soul sat with his back against the gym wall, his shorts riding up uncomfortably. He watched as Maka burst in to the gym and swept past him. She transformed into a black and green scythe, and spun into Liz's hands. He flinched as Liz immediately dropped Maka to the floor with a metallic clatter. Their soul wavelengths didn't match, of course. Maka transformed back into flesh, sprawled on the floor, laughing maniacally. Even from across the gym, he could see the desperation in her eyes.

They hadn't talked about it since they got out of the hospital. They defeated Asura (with bravery, no less) and now it was all back to their regular scheduled programming.

Except for the nightmares.

And the flashbacks.

And oh yeah the fact that Maka apparently had weapon blood and could turn herself into a scythe.

Soul scowled at the shiny gym floor, his hands twisting inside the pockets of his track jacket.

After four years of training with him and Stein, Maka had finally managed to use her ability while conscious. It had taken many months of mediation for the hot-headed meister in order to transform one finger into a pocket-knife sized blade.

Soul supposed she needed a meister. Or maybe she'd go solo from now on. She was always looking for ways to get stronger, to be better, faster. Now that she didn't have to tote around Soul, she'd be free. No dead weight extra weapon to worry about protecting, like some stupid Swiss army knife-

"OI! MOPEY! COME HERE AND WORSHIP YOUR GOD!" Black Star called from across the gym, clinging to a basketball hoop like an oversized blue monkey.

Tsubaki stood below him, tugging on his track jacket. Fretfully, she said "Silence, Black Star. What part of silence don't you understand?!"

Soul dragged himself over to stand next to Tsubaki.

"Hey," Soul greeted with a nod.

"Hello, Soul," Tsubaki sighed, letting Black Star go to give a small wave.

"What's his damage?" Soul cocked his head towards the dangling ninja.

Tsubaki resumed pulling on Black Star's jacket. "The usual. He's a god and his worthiest follower is, quote, 'being a mopey jack wipe.' Unquote."

Soul grimaced. "…Jack wipe?"

"His words, of course. Not mine."

"WA-HOOOOOOOOOO!" The blue-haired money swung from the basketball hoop and landed on Soul with a resounding thud. Soul and Black Star crumbled in a heap of cheap, stretchy rayon and hair gel.

Soul flailed from under Black Star. He grabbed the back of the blue monkey's track jacket and pulled. "Get off of me, asshole," he hissed. Black Star twisted in Soul's grip and threw his heavily muscled arm around his best friend's neck, putting him into a chokehold.

"Enough of your sad shark face! You are in the presence of your god you should be glowing with joy!" Black Star tightened his grip around Soul's neck. Soul sputtered and struggled to get free, clawing at Black Star's arm.

"Leggo," Soul choked.

"Not until you worship your god with a smile." The weight of Black Star's beefy arms disappeared from Soul's neck in a flurry of paper and cardboard. Soul sat up and rubbed his sore throat, he looked to where he was sure his best friend was only seconds ago.

Black Star had a thick textbook lodged in the middle of his forehead. Red leaked from the edges of the tome, creating rivulets of blood and ink that streamed from the blue haired monkey's face.

Soul looked to the source of the projectile, his one and only Meister. Tiny and blond, Maka stood over them with her hands on her hips; the light streaming in from the tall windows behind her cast a dark shadow over her face, distorting her features. But her stark green eyes pierced Soul's nerves.

"What are you doing, you idiots?" she hissed. "Nygus called us to attention forever ago."

Black Star dislodged the book from his forehead and tossed it back to Maka. Soul clambered over his blue-haired idiot, trying to snatch the book out of the air. Maka caught it deftly, still glaring. The book creaked from her tight grip.

Black Star shoved Soul off of him and stood next to Maka, slinging an arm around her shoulders. He ignored her as she stiffened in his embrace. "Your God was busy attending to his most loyal follower." Black Star smirked. "Something you should be more focused on, eh Bookworm?"

Maka blushed brilliantly. Her grip tightened around her book. Soul groaned. He had just gotten the blood stains out of his track suit the day before.

Maka whacked Black Star in the face with her book. He spun with the force of her blow, the blood from his spouting nose spraying Maka's pristine uniform. She seized his wrist and flung him across the gym, over the heads of the tiny NOT students. They small crowd shrieked as the blue monkey sailed across the air and collided with the staffs perched on the wall. They clattered to the floor along with Black Star. He lay with his butt in the air, groaning, his face flat on the floor. Maka marched up to the pile of Black Star and wood. She grabbed a staff. She spun in expertly in her palms.

Soul had hardly ever seen Maka perform the move from his current angle. Usually he was in her hands, being spun. He watched her, the fluidity of her steps as she circled the moaning Black Star, her hands turning the staff smoothly, without hesitation. Maka turned the staff left to right, slashing the air in an "x." Her blond pig-tails swayed in the billows of air she was creating. Her eyes were fixed on Black Star, her pure infuriation shining through the green. The anger radiated off of her smooth skin in waves.

Soul had hardly ever seen Maka look hotter.

Soul choked on his tongue. He could not be thinking that right now. No, no, no right now Maka was sexy- ah scary- as hell, and about to beat the living shit out of his best friend. He should try to stop her. He should get up right now, stop fixating on his meister's ass as she crouches, getting ready to attack, and make her calm down and think the fight through for once in her damn life-

"I don't know what's going on with you or with Soul today, or the past few weeks." The staff spun faster, whistling as it whipped through the air. "But you're all hiding something from me and it's really pissing me off."

Soul started, his pale eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. He quickly arranged his face into a more neutral expression as she tried to keep focused on Black Star, but Soul saw her staff's rhythm waver. Maka never gave an indication that she noticed his behavior changed. They spoke less about personal things, sure. He figured that after the big bad kishin battle, they each needed space to get their heads together. Maka was less inclined to sit in the living room to read her books. Soul, whe she showed no sign of returning, retreated to his quiet room, the music flowing from his high-end stereo system barely audible. They talked, but most of their conversations on training and logistics, so prevalent in their lives and in their minds. There was little time for anything else. After all, they were the first of their kind.

Two people, two weapons, two meisters.

Black Star lifted his head slowly, the bones in his neck popping audibly.

Maka stopped abruptly.

"Damn, Maka," Black Star muttered. "You should know better than to attack a God when he's not expecting it…" Maka stood stiffly, solid in her fighting stance. Her fists clenched around the staff, her knuckles white. Her book had disappeared in to the mysterious place she usually kept it in (a location Soul wished he was privy to).

Black Star pushed himself up from his prone position, chuckling. It sounded a little mad, Soul thought.

Angry mad, he thought. Not crazy mad. Maybe both.

"At least by the end of this you'll be able to brag about being beaten by a God." BlackStar cracked his knuckles. Anger radiated around Black Star. The air thickened with tension. He stood slowly, his tracksuit hung in tatters around his thick frame. Electricity crackled around his violent blue hair.

Both, Soul grimaced.

The NOT students stood in a circle around BlackStar and Maka, with Soul still partly sprawled on the floor next to them. They glanced at each other nervously, chewing their lips and fiddling with their clothing.

Soul sucked his lip into his mouth, chewing it. He quickly spit it out. The taste of blood filled his mouth. He never seemed to remember how sharp his teeth were, no matter how old he was.

Black Star raised his fists, his bright smile stiff. A mask.

"Come on, Maka. You're the genius here," he mocked. "Don't tell me you haven't figured it out."

In the distance, Soul could see Nygus entering the gym. He started to motion to Maka but her eyes were glazed over in fury.

"Figured WHAT out?" Maka growled, spinning the staff so that it was behind her.

"Your stupid boy-toy is paranoid as fu-" Black Star was knocked backwards by the impact of the staff Soul took from Maka. Soul had never moved so fast, not even when Crona had nearly sliced Maka through when they were 12. Maka blinked.

"What the hell, Soul?" Before Soul could answer, BlackStar was back on his feet.

"HOW DARE YOU ATTACK YOUR GOD WHILE HE WAS UNPREPARED," he seethed. He charged towards Maka and Soul, fists drawn back. Soul felt Maka shift her right foot back, into a fighting stance. He took hold of her hand, anticipating the gentle heat and vibration that come with transforming his body into a scythe. BlackStar was on them. Maka pulled Soul's arm straight up, throwing him into the air, half turned already. He spun quickly into the rest of his weapon form. Maka caught him and held him aloft, preparing for impact.

"BRING IT," she roared. Soul could feel the thrum of her excited heartbeat pulse through their connection. He felt her tight grip, firm and confident. It was familiar, comforting, far more than the feel of her demon steel body in his hands. She felt fragile to him. He grinned to himself.

This is how it should be, he thought. The weapon and the meister. Unchangeable. Soul watched BlackStar approach, his grin stretching into a wide smile.

BlackStar was snatched up midstride Nygus. She held him by the scruff of his tracksuit. BlackStar was still shorter than her. His legs kept pumping comically, his arms pin wheeling in the air.

Nygus glared at her adoptive son.

"Since our EAT upperclassmen are so eager to begin sparring, let's have them demonstrate what advanced partnership and team work looks like." She turned her steely gaze to Maka, who was still holding Soul, his blade shining and ready to shed blue-monkey blood.

"You're supposed to be practicing your weapon form, Albarn," Nygus remarked coldly. Maka blushed and open her palms. Soul slid from her hands and, in a flash of white light, stood beside his meister.

"Sorry," Maka mumbled. "Force of habit?"

Nygus grunted. "If you're so eager for a fight, get on the mat." Nygus turned to the NOT students, who were all either pale from anxiety of the almost-fight or from having Nygus, wrapped in her stark white bandages and tracksuit, address them directly.

"We've got a couple of special cases here to spar for you today." Nygus shook BlackStar, who hung from her hand like an ugly blue cat. "This idiot's weapon had multiple forms. A rare ability to possess, even rarer is the ability to control. Here we have a weapon that can maintain her forms, but also resonate strongly enough with a meister to allow him to use her forms." BlackStar twisted in Nygus' grasp to grin broadly at Tsubaki. Tsubaki pinked under the awed expressions of the NOT students and waved shyly. She made eye contact with BlackStar and her pink cheeks turned into a full on blush. Nygus rolled her eyes and dropped BlackStar in disgust.

"These two," Nygus said, stepping over BlackStar to gesture Maka forward. Maka yanked Soul with her, pulling on his tracksuit sleeve.

"These two are both weapons." There was a ripple of confusion.

"They are both meisters." The crowed muttered. One brave soul shouted out.

"That's not possible," a boy with chin length black hair said. "You're either born a weapon or trained a meister."

"Not this one," Nygus pointed a straight finger at the tiny blond at Soul's side.

The NOT students gasped. They stared at Maka. She met their gazes straight on.

Soul sneered. Idiots.

"Two weapons, two meisters," Nygus continued. "Two people with a high enough resonance to maintain their respective forms and not be torn apart."

Soul felt Maka shift guiltily. He elbowed her subtly. She gave him a not-so-subtle punch in the ribs. Soul was about to open his mouth to spew a long string of curses but Nygus said "You all are lucky enough to see it in action."

The NOT students erupted in excited chatter.

Soul choked. "But we've never-"

"Excellent," Maka interrupted. "We'll be happy to demonstrate." Maka sounded so confident Soul almost believed her. He would have never guessed Maka had never been wielded by Soul in a fight before. Ever.

"Maka," Soul hissed as the crowd began to part to make room on the blue mats strewn across the floor. Soul noted belatedly that they had the faint echoes of bloodstains that never quite bleached out. "We can't fight. You can barely keep your form while I hold you, what the fuck?!"

Oddly, Maka blushed at the reminder. "We can do this Soul! If not, we'll look like idiots."

"That ship has sailed and is currently sinking in the middle of the Atlantic," Soul groaned.

Maka put her hands on Soul's shoulders. Her bright green eyes stared him down. Soul froze. It was the most contact she had had with him outside of her weapon form in a long time.

"Come on," she pleaded. "Just try?"

Soul's blood turned to flame. His face was as tan as normal, not red, no, no, no, not at all.

"Fine, whatever," he grunted. He ignored her brilliantly cute smile, and turned away only to make eye contact with Liz. Liz smirked, and one eyebrow raised, as if to ask "what, exactly, did I just see, you pathetic marshmallow?"

Soul scowled at her. Liz cackled, her laughter ringing out through the gym. The NOT students eyes her nervously and inched away from her. Patty, curled up at her feet and tying her sister's shoelaces together, stuck her tongue out at them. They scrambled away faster. All of the NOT students had, of course, heard of the notorious Thompson Twin Pistols.

Soul was sparred further semi-telepathic taunting by Maka, who tugged at his sleeve.

"Let's go." He let her pull him to the center of the mat, where Nygus stood tapping her foot impatiently.

"Finally," Nygus growled. "The good part."

"What are we demonstrating, exactly," Soul asked.

"Working as a team," Nygus answered simply.

Easy, thought Soul. Do a couple tricks, throw Maka into the air- he stopped himself from flinching- and we're done. Soul glances at his watch. Right in time for the game.

"Working as a team against an opponent," Nygus finished.

Soul squinted. "The NOT kids?"

"No," Nygus said, annoyed. "You'd kill them in two seconds. Against BlackStar and Tsubaki."

The pair in question strode to the center of the mat. BlackStar's breathing was even, matched in time with Tsubaki's calm demeanor. But BlackStar couldn't hide the underlying flares of anger burning in his eyes. He glared at Soul and Maka. He was still pissed about getting flung around by Maka, Nygus, and Soul. Tsubaki, on the other hand, smiled at them kindly.

Don't worry, she mouthed.

Easy for her to say. Soul though. She wasn't about to get her ass kicked by a grumpy blue monkey.

"Get ready," said Nygus digging her whistle out of her tracksuit.

Soul turned to Maka, his heart beating a violent tattoo against his ribs.

"We don't have to do this," he said in a low whisper. "We can back out now. Be honest; we're not ready for this."

Maka bristled. "I am ready. Are you?"

Fuck no, he thought bitterly. But Maka already turned away and was shooting Black Star a poisonous glare. The fueled the ninja, and he began bouncing on his toes like a rabid boxer.

He wasn't ready for Maka to be his weapon. He wasn't ready for her to realize that she didn't need him. He wasn't ready for her to tell him that he was dead weight. He wasn't ready for her to realize that he was holding her back. He wasn't ready.

But she was hopping up and down on her heels, excited, like a damn blonde puppy. Maka was full of energy and radiating fucking confidence and positivity.

Soul fucking loved it.

"Fine," he said, trying to sound begrudging instead of obedient, like the whipped wimp he was. "We'll do it."

"YES," she cheered, her bouncing feet working overtime.

"Get on the mat you to, your wasting out time" Nygus growled.

Maka dragged Soul to the center of the mats, where BlackStar and Tsubaki were waiting patiently. Well. Tsubaki was waiting patiently. BlackStar was jogging in place, randomly punching the air as if it personally offended him, his mother, and Tsubaki.

"Weapons at the ready," said Nygus.

Triplet flashes burst through the air. Tsubaki landed gracefully as a chain scythe. Soul and Maka both clattered to the ground.

"Soul," Maka hissed, her voice tinny.

Soul's chine blushed. "Sorry."

He stood, flesh and blood, and picked up Maka with a small flourish. The NOT crowed had calmed, unimpressed with the show of clumsiness. A few of them decided that the EAT upperclassman were just showing off, so they were going to make the charade worth their while. A demon ax pocketed was in the pocketed money from two meisters and a demon spear. Others physically separated, moving to the area of the gym closest to the side they supported.

Soul closed his eyes. He focused on Maka's soul, warm and buzzing with excitement. He held her, trying to keep his grip loose. Her scythe for was sturdy green and black demon steel, but to Soul she might as well be made of sea glass. She was the meister, he the weapon. He was going to lay down his life to protect her. That wasn't going to change now that they could both harden their flesh to steel.

He wasn't going to change. He would choose her every time.

But Maka.

She was so eager to leave him. She wanted so badly to get stronger, be faster, smarter. She was constantly changing, improving herself, growing. It was only a matter before she out grew him, too.

"On the sound of my whistle," announced Nygus.

"Three."

Soul imagined himself and Maka, having won, arms raised in victory, at the end of the fight. Their hands were clasped together tightly, and they didn't let go after they lowered their arms. She looked at him, her green eyes soft. She would be proud.

"Two." Soul opened his eyes. She would be proud of herself, having perfected her weapon form and successfully won a fight. She would leave him and start her career as a solo weapon. And Soul would sit in the dust cloud she left behind.

"One." A piercing screech rang through the air, and Black Star jumped into action. He dashed across the mat, Tsubaki aloft. Black Star's body and Tsubaki's chain blurred.

Soul gaped at the speed. He stumbled back. He spun Maka behind him and twisted away from BlackStar as he sailed past, missing Soul. BlackStar, agile as ever, turned sharply and came back at Soul.

"YAHOO," BlackStar screeched, sounding like his old 13 year old self. He hadn't made that annoying call in years. Humiliation had him regressing. BlackStar charged forward, slashing at Soul. Soul quickly stepped back, back, and back, bobbing and ducking to avoid Tsubaki's blade. Her face shone in the flat of her blade, her expression sympathetic. But her eyes were alight.

Soul was no fool: He knew the demon weapon had a thirst for a good battle. Tsubaki was clearly enjoying herself.

Distracted by his own thoughts, Soul slowed his pace. BlackStar smacked him on the head with the flat of Tsubaki's blade. Soul went down and landed hard, eagle-spread, on Maka's shaft.

Pain erupted through Soul's back just as Nygus blew her whistle. "Point, BlackStar. Zero to one."

BlackStar raised Tsubaki over his head like a champion wrester would hold a title belt, waving his arms over the crowd of NOT students. From the floor, Soul noted more money changing hands and glares shot his way.

"Get off," hissed a muffled voice from underneath him. Soul moaned, but rolled off, coming to a stop on his hands and knees next to his meister.

Soul looked and then quickly wished he hadn't. Maka's face gleamed into view on her blade. He slammed his eyes shut. He could see her clearly, despite the green tinge that was cast across her face from her blade. Her bright eyes peeked out from under bangs in need of a trim. Her blond hair was loose around her bare shoulders, the ends curling against her skin. Her bare skin. He was not going to look. He was going to do the gentlemanly, cool guy thing and not look.

"Get up, idiot! The next round is going to start and you're going kneeling like a dog!" Maka's comment made Soul's thoughts trail into other things they could do like dogs, but before he could mentally berate himself Nygus's whistle sounded.

"Soul."

Soul sprang up, eyes open. He ignoring his screaming back muscles as he straightened and pulled as he bent to quickly snatch Maka up. He spun her behind his back again, his red eyes darting all over the gym.

Soul spotted BlackStar. He was bouncing off the walls, like a kid with the sugar of 1000 cupcakes running through his blood. But from the corner of his eye, Soul could see Liz and Patty almost doubled over with laughter. He probably looked ridiculous, almost hiding a scythe that was at least a foot taller than him behind his back, dangerously exposing himself to Tsubaki's blade.

Maka, on the other hand, was less than pleased. But Soul barely registered her gripping over the intense buzzing is his ears, the adrenaline making his heart pound in his ears.

Soul could hardly bring himself to care. He could not physically make himself use Maka to defend himself.

Not that he was trying very hard to resist his impulse to protect Maka. He dodged BlackStar's every strike; years of training with the blue monkey had taught Soul that subtlety was not his style. BlackStar stabbed at Soul over and over again, aiming for his torso. Soul backed up, his heels teetering over the edge of the mat. One centimeter off of the mat, and the point would go to BlackStar and Tsubaki.

Soul didn't care.

But Maka wasn't having it.

"Soul," Maka said, her voice tinny from being in weapon form. Soul kept his eyes on BlackStar, moving as he moved, like a waltz, except way less romantic and way more sweaty. Learning to be quick on his feet during Meister training had been the easy part. The difficulty was "Performing with your Weapon," AKA "how to put the girl you've been protecting since you were 13 years old in the direct line of fire."

"Meister are like the pitchers at a baseball game," Stein had droned. "They receive a play from the shortstop, the Weapon, and the decide whether or not to carry it out. The combined effort is what turns the hit into a homerun."

Soul remembered thinking that Stein knew nothing about baseball. He also remembered thinking that the weapons were more like the bat. Object with a minds. On their own, the bats couldn't do anything. There were rare exceptions, like Justin and Giriko. But for the majority, a weapon could do little more than lay on the ground without a Meister.

Weapons were bats, and bats got smashed by impact with other objects. That's how it worked.

"You have to move forward. Block with my shaft!" Soul never thought he would hear those words from Maka, but there they were, incomprehensible. He was the weapon. He had to protect his Meister from harm. Black Star swung Tsubaki's blade.

This is just practice, the little voice nagged. What are you going to do in the real world?

I'm not getting a chance, Soul bit back. She can fight on her own now.

"Soul! You have to use me to block!" Soul was tiring. BlackStar looked that same as when they started. The assassin's blade was coming in faster, as if BlackStar had just been warming up. Each strike came closer and closer to Soul's skin. Soul stumbled slightly. He ducked under Black Star's arm. Tsubaki's edge grazed Soul's wild white hair. Soul took several quick paces back. His breath came in harsh pants, chest rising and falling faster than he was used to. The icy air pierced his lungs.

He remembered their first kishin hunt, when their lives were simple. Breathing in the Alaskan air was like breathing tiny shards of glass. Maka, the Nevada native, needed help standing because she had curled up into a ball to keep warm, and she couldn't move her stiff limbs to stand up again. Soul recalled how she didn't complain once, even when he started whining about frostbite on the tip of his blade. She held them together on that trip and didn't complain once even though she was as cold as he was. Looking back, he figured she was trying to make a good impression as a Meister. She didn't even throw him across the room too hard when he suggested they strip naked and use each other for body heat.

"Soul!" Soul tried not to look at her. She would be naked Soul did not want to look. He wouldn't be able to see anything past her collarbone, but Soul would know. He was naked when he transformed into weapon form, noticeable in the reflection his blade gave off and in his consciousness as a weapon. He was naked, and so would Maka be. Maka, in her weapon form, would be naked. Soul, dedicated partner, weapon, and best friend to Maka, should not look. Soul wanted to look. It would be uncool to look. Soul wanted to look very, very badly.

Soul's vision blacked as he felt the butt of a kind but wry chain scythe smash against his skull. He landed on his as with a grunt.

Maka made a frustrated noise. Soul lay still at Black Star's bouncing feet, Tsubaki's blade twirling from the heavy black chain.

Soul closed his eyes again. He watched the black of the back of his eyelids crackle and dance.

BlackStar cackled.

"Point, Black Star and Tsubaki," Nygus shouted.

Soul could feel Maka vibrating with impatience is palm. The heat in Soul's hand grew and, after a flash of light, Maka stood in front of him, fully clothed, he knew. He turned his head towards the source of the flash. He opened his eyes to slits. He spotted her sneakers, one foot tapping a muffled staccato against the blue mats strewn across the floor. Before he could resist, his gaze traveled up her legs, over socks and fat ankles (still hot, he thought wistfully), long shins, knobby knees, and strong thighs that disappeared into her scrap-o-fabric blue short-shorts. He tried not to stop at the swath of bare skin that peeked between the blue of her hot-pants and the stretchy white of her tank top.

Soul missed her black uniform sometimes. She sometimes wore it for special occasions, during their first year together. The white face of Shinigami shined in the middle of her chest. She looked like a tiny sailor. He held on to his pitch-black suit that first year, too, when he was halfway clinging to either side of his identity. Soul, the second-rate pianist, or Soul, kick-ass weapon. Though he strongly preferred the latter, the former clung to the edges of his memory like a ghost.

The EAT students whispered as the duo walked past lockers and classroom hand in hand. They started holding hands about three months into their partnership. Maka, her warm little hand tucked into his clammy palm, was awfully physically affectionate for a prude (never mind they were 10 years old, the EAT kids viciously ripped apart the snotty NOT kids, especially those whose father was the lascivious Death Scythe and a nobody from across the country).

In his reprieve, his eyes lingered on her breasts, only one moment too long. He finally moved his eyes to slide up to her long neck, and then to her face. Her eyes were narrowed.

Oh. She noticed.

She glared at him. Green, Soul mused. Like algae. Or grass. Or a fucking Granny Smith apple, shit.

He would never be able to enjoy the fruit again, after Maka inevitably left.

He belatedly noticed the red tingeing her normally peach complexion. Her fists were balled to her sides and her breathing was unsteady. She stood stiffly in front of him. Maka let out a frustrated noise, more like a high-pitched scream than a whine.

His hands quickly flew to his head. Soul curled up into a ball, his hands firmly on hid head. He waited ten seconds. Then another twenty. Nothing. Had he missed it?

Slowly, he let his hands relax. His fingers combed through his hair, testing his skull. No dent. No pain… He was openly staring at her tits. He didn't get chopped? Where did Maka go?

Soul sat bolt upright.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked stupidly.

Maka seemed to regain her voice, and movement.

"You idiot!" She kicked him in the stomach.

Soul keeled over on his side, moaning.

The first time he witnessed a Maka chop was exactly three days, sixteen hours, and twelve minutes after they first met. She introduced him to BlackStar, her childhood friend and bane of her existence. He was without a partner for the third year in a row. She had shoved Soul forward, nearly pushing him into the overly muscled, blue-haired child. Soul wanted to ask whether the blue was natural, but decided it was better not to know. This boy, BlackStar, was a ball of energy set on fire and fed caffeine for ten days, morning, noon, and night. He was constantly moving. His feet tapped, his arms flapped, his head bobbed. A complete contrast to Maka, who stood watching them shake hands and exchange niceties (or, in BlackStar's case, proclaim Soul as the newest member of his band of loyal followers). She watched them, her smile growing more pronounced with each word Soul and BlackStar exchanged. Soul found himself smiling along, unable to resist the tingle of happiness and relief at fitting in with Maka and her friend. He even shifted into his weapon form, at BlackStar's enthusiastic request. Maka caught him by the tips of her fingers, but BlackStar didn't notice. She held Soul aloft for BlackStar to see. Soul could see the pride shine on her face, brightening the dark haze of his view in weapon form.

Until BlackStar said, a vicious smirk on his ten year old face, "So, Maka, the only time you actually talk to a guy is when you have his shaft in your hand?"

Maka dropped Soul and launched a hardback directly into BlackStar's face. Soul could recall the sickening crunch of BlackStar's nose and cheekbones fracturing.

"What the hell, Soul!? You're supposed to use me to block!" She punctuated her sentence with a stamp of her foot.

Soul clutched his gut, trying not to vomit. Maka wasn't going to let him recover.

"I can't believe you do you want me to stay weaker than you forever? I have to get stronger as a weapon! How can I protect you if you won't use me?" She rambled.

Soul staggered to his feet.

"And it's not that I can't hold the weapon form, by the way, you liar! I've held it for at least ten minutes and the only reason I'm not in weapon form right now is I can't kick your ass without feet-"

Soul grabbed her face. He squeezed her cheeks between his fingers, preventing her from speaking. Maka spluttered, and clawed at his hands. Soul held on firmly.

"ARG- would you shut up? I can't use you to block, alright Maka? It goes against EVERYTHING we've been doing for the last few years. I'm the one who is supposed to protect YOU! I'm the one who has to take the blows! I am the one! ME! How can you ask me to change like that?"

She looked taken aback. Her green eyed widened. Soul could see his own reflection staring back at him them. His red eyes were wild, the purple bruises underneath them more pronounced than a few weeks ago.

He let go of her. She rubbed her face, eyeing him warily.

The first time she saw him cry was when they were 14 and his brother called him for the first time in 9 months. Maka had picked up first and was rather confused when she heard a mimicry of Soul's voice on the other end. It took her a few seconds to process that Soul himself was staring at her. She muttered 'what' into the telephone, and screwed her eyes shut, listening hard. She heard the voice ask for Soul Evans, and she could hear the subtle accent tingeing the vowels of her partner's name. She handed the phone over and watched Soul's face contort with confusion, and then despair.

Soul let out a harsh, frustrated noise and ran a hand through his white hair. It stuck up in every direction it wanted. "Seriously. How can I love someone so stupid. This is stupid."

Maka stared at him unabashedly, her face tinged with pink. Soul refused to meet her gaze. He stood there, steeping in his own frustrations, his eyes glued to the floor. He felt a tiny hand slip into his.

He gave her hand a hard squeeze. She squeezed back silently.

"Idiot," he heard her whisper.

He said it first. She had consciously turned her arm into a green and black blade, and held it for about a minute. She turned to him, hoping to see the joy she felt illuminate his face. She only saw her own insecurity trembling in his limbs. She cried and they fought. They curled up on the couch together, later. He whispered it in her ear, holding her close, closer than she had ever been held. She pretended not to hear. He pretended she was asleep.

Liz dragged him out of the gym by the short hairs. He barely kept himself from squealing (her and her damn grip). Liz had got a hold on him as soon as Nygus blew her impatient whistle. Chaos and confusion burst from every corner of the gym after Soul and Maka's little almost-confession. The NOT students went wild: More money was exchanged and, in one case, thrown as someone's face. BlackStar remounted the basketball hoop. Maka was torn away from him, her hand stolen by Tsubaki. Soul watched her grow smaller as he was taken out of the gym too, her hand still partly reaching out for him.

Patty skipped along behind them, stopping to glare at a cluster of NOT kids and giggle as they ran screaming. The power was fuel to the both of them: Twin pistols and favorites of the Shinigami's son. No one could find bigger heads on bobble dolls. When the tall blondes marched down the long halls, the crowd parted like the sea, looks of terror and fascination on every face.

Patty gave a little gallop and speed to open Shibusen's tall entrance doors. Soul began to struggle.

"Hey, no-stop!" He squirmed, and dug his feet into the painted concrete. Liz didn't slow down. She wound her fingers closer to the base of his skull and yanked harder, nearly sending Soul tumbling down the steep staircase. Soul yelped and pin-wheeled his arms to maintain balance.

It was a manly yelp, he grimaced to himself. A cool guy yelp.

The Twin Pistols laughed, and began ushering, poking, and prodding him towards the main streets of Death City.

"Oh, hell, no, Lover Boy," Liz smirked, "you and Maka need some time to stop and reflect and shit."

Soul scoffed. "Been readin' Kid's self-help books again, huh?"

Liz grunted and gave one hard tug, pulling Soul in front of her. She let go of his white hair and began pushing his back, moving their motely crew forward. "Ain't telling you shit, Lover Boy, until you spill the deets."

"What the fuck are you even talking about," Soul grumbled, stumbling as Liz's long strides forced him to compensate by taking twice as many steps as she was taking.

"Ya gotta give up the goods," piped Patty. "You and Maka are gettin' awfully blushy-"

"Fuckin'-hell- the fuck are you- not blushy- ain't cool," spat Soul incoherently.

The girls' laughter blended into the din as they moved closer to the crowded city center. Bicycles sped by them as they trudged along the sidewalk, car's honking echoed in their ears. Soul took a deep breath, inhaling the city air through his mouth. He felt the smog on his tongue, and the lingering after taste of fried food.

Out in the garden, where he showed his brother the ability that would lead him towards his destiny, he could smell the apple blossoms growing on their trees. It would excite him in his younger days, the reminder of picking the fully ripened fruit with his family. His 10-year-old mind, molded by infancy at the bench of a piano, jaded by the dim view life in his brother's shadow gave him, skipped over Wes's affectionate smile. Soul's older brother stood in the shade, taller than he was, smarter than he was, more talented than he was. Soul swore Wes's hair was amore pristine shade of white, his eyes a clearer ruby.

Bells chimed as Patty threw open the swinging doors of the coffee shop, and old stomping ground of her and Liz. Patty marched to the barista and planted herself on the counter in front of him, and pulled him down to kiss the top of his head. She chatted with him animatedly, while Liz looked on and smiled. She let go of Soul and gestured vaguely in the direction of empty tables. Soul's glare was lost on her, so he traipsed to and bare chair and plopped down. Sitting, the weight of the afternoon fell on his shoulders. He slumped down in his seat, imagining himself melting into a puddle of gray soup.

Cool gray soup, he thought halfheartedly. Soul glanced at Patty and Liz.

When they had first met, he thought they were twins. His assumption was almost solidified the first time they fought side by side. He admired their movement, perfectly in sync with each other and with Kid. But he was astonished when he saw them fighting on their own, wielding each other as weapon and meister against a small army of kishin's mimicking ghosts. He remembered Liz's unending stream of fretful warnings she had given Patty while in her weapon form.

Liz shoved hot coffee into Soul' unsuspecting hands. He cursed as the steaming liquid dripped on to his hands.

She clicked her tongue impatiently and sat across from him, leaning against the back of the chair and extending her legs out onto the diner floor. "Oh my god, what is with you today? You're freaking over everything, I swear, you need to chill the fuck out."

Soul glared at her. "She's going to leave," he said insistently.

"Are you still harping on about that? Seriously let it go. She's doing it for the both of you, you now that."

"I don't see how," he remarked stubbornly.

"Nah, of course you don't: You have your head so far up your ass, it's wearing a hat."

"Be serious for a minute." Soul leaned forward, and perched his elbows on the table. "She's getting stronger, Liz. She can hold her form, even during fight. She wants to go on missions, with her as the weapon and me as the meister."

He paused, trying to keep his breathing steady.

"She's going to leave. I can't wield her. It's wrong. I can't, Liz, it's just- no- it'd be like purposefully feeding her to sharks."

"Don't you already do that?" asked Liz with a sly grin.

Soul glanced up, wary. "What?"

Liz scoffed. "We've all seen her neck, we're not stupid. She has hickeys like she's been making out with Jaws. One plus one equal you're fucking Maka."

Soul felt his face burn. He started to breath harder; he began and stopped so many sentences, Liz fanned a napkin in his face. "Woah. Stop. Hyperventilating is lame."

Soul covered his mouth and nose with one hand. He shook his head violently, like a dog ridding itself of water.

"Oh, yeah," nodded Liz, "suffocate yourself. That'll solve all of your problems."

"Stop," he snapped. "And stop staring!"

Liz looked away but smirked, crossing her arms in front of her chest, apparently self-satisfied. She watched Patty, who was still at the counter with the owner. Patty had him in front of the counter, her hands buried in his hair, molding it into shape with what appeared to be whipped cream. The owner was solemn, his eyes blank as his head was turned and tweaked by the energetic Demon Pistol. Liz looked on with a small, warm smile.

Soul's breathing returned to normal, but he was almost sorry to interrupt. "If Maka and I go on a mission with her as the weapon, I'd be putting her on the front line. I'd be using her to defend myself. I'd be using her to cut through kishins, witches, and who knows what else."

Liz's smile melted into a bitter scowl. "You've been doing that for years. What's changed? You're dating, is that it? I never took you for some knight."

"I almost died protecting her. I'm not going to let her do the same. You know how she is. She's reckless."

Liz slapped her hand on the table. "So are you! Jeez, she's some NOT kid that's never been in a fight. Maka has been training since her pumpkin panty days."

"But I love her," Soul said bluntly.

"If you love her you'll let her be, and you'll be her meister."

He liked Liz. She never bullshitted him. But this was ridiculous.

He ran his hand through his white hair, the disarray becoming more pronounced. "How do you do it, Liz?" Soul asked, tiredly rubbing his hand across his face. "How do you put Patty in danger if you care about her so much?"

Liz looked at her baby sister again. Patty was standing on the diner's counter now, kicking her legs out like a can-can girl, laughing with her head thrown back. The bartender threw his dirty rag at her, which just made her laugh harder.

"It would be worse if it was just her alone," Liz said slowly. "She might be in danger but at least we're together. She wont have to die alone."

Soul stared at her. "We're weapons." It was more of a question than a statement.

"So is Maka now. Don't kid yourself, Soul" Liz sighed, "Demon Steel doesn't protect us from everything, and our lives are dangerous. We've been stabbed, dropped off cliffs, nearly snapped in half, and chased by ghosts for years now. You have a scar as long as a small toddler. But here we freaking are. Sitting in this damn coffee hellhole. We're the lucky ones. How many others are buried in Hook Cemetery? How many were so fucked up, they're unidentifiable Jane and John Does? How many are still missing?"

She took a sip of her coffee, and put her cup down with a clink. "Patty and I hunt kishins eggs and witches with Kid. We almost get killed everyday. But we're together. I love her. She's my family. I'd rather die by her side than wait for a phone call asking me what casket she would have wanted."

He had to go back and bury his grandmother. His parents didn't ask why he clung to his partner's hand, or why she looked at him with such great affection. His father gripped both of their hands, and patted Soul on the back. He kissed Maka's cheek, but Soul explained later that he was probably really drunk. It was hard to tell with his father. Stoicism was genetic.

Maka dug her heels into the gravel. Her tennis shoes scraped the loose stones up so small trails of black rocks appeared in her wake. She thought about transforming into a weapon to prevent Tsubaki from taking her to wherever Tsubaki was currently taking her to, but thought better of it because Tsubaki could just pick her up and carry Maka to the mystery location a lot faster.

Tsubaki was tight lipped about their destination, which made Maka burn with curiosity. But Tsubaki had taken her away from Soul. Soul. Who had said that he loved her. In front of people.

They talked. The weather, homework, BlackStar's obnoxious new cologne. Safe topics. But the words he murmured against her skin, the admissions she gave to the base of his throat, the pin-prick bruises that she hid under clothes. Or maybe they were like what her papa told her when he came home late at night smelling like expensive perfume while her mama sighed in the hallway. Or what she told herself in the mirror, shifting from form to form, no longer sure which hold.

"Maka, please be more cooperative," said Tsubaki. "I'd hate to ask BlackStar to carry you."

Maka glared over her shoulder but began to take quick steps of her own, leaving her best friend behind. "Fine," she grumbled, "you could at least tell me where we're going."

Tsubaki folded her hands behind her back and caught up to Maka, her long strides making up for Maka's speed. "If you had been paying attention instead of staring off into space, you'd know exactly where we're going."

Maka stopped abruptly. Tsubaki kept walking, humming tunelessly. She disappeared behind a pair of trees. Trees, in fact, surrounded Maka; she wasn't sure how she didn't notice before. The sun streamed through the spaces between the branches. The air was tinted gold by the fall, and was still warm by November standards. Maka ambled between the trees Tsubaki disappeared. She burst through the thicket. It was the low wall outside of the city, where the view of Shibusen was clear in the dusk. Tsubaki sat on the low wall.

"Why is it," Maka said, pursing her lips, "that every time I need a talking to, we come here?"

"Lots of space for you to throw things, no one close enough to hear you yell, the view from here is nice, and it's high enough so that I can contemplate throwing you off the hill when you frustrate me. Now come sit." Tsubaki patted the space next to her on the ledge. Maka eyed her best friend warily, but sat down, swinging her legs over the edge to dangle them in the open air.

Tsubaki said nothing. She didn't seem to be in any hurry. She continued humming, but this time Maka recognized the tune. It was the song Soul had played when they battled Mosquito all those years ago. The rapid, almost frantic pace of the song was in complete contrast with Tsubaki's calm demeanor.

Maka tried to copy Tsubaki's body language. She leaned back on her hands, trying to be relaxed and patient, but the concrete ledge bit into her hands, though calluses were thickly layered on her palms. She tried to cross her dangling ankles, but the still position in the open air made Maka feel jittery. So she slumped forward, placed her elbows on her knees, supported her head on the knuckles of her fists, and swung her long legs in time to Tsubaki's wild whistle. Maka

"How do you do it," Maka asked for the millionth time. "How are you partners with BlackStar?"

"How do you put up with Soul's snark?" Tsubaki asked with a wry smile.

Maka frowned, and shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes he's so annoying with his shark face and stupid hair gel. And then other times…" she trailed off, images of his warm smile in the light of the cold moon, his long fingers tracing the column of her spine, and his soothing embrace.

Tsubaki snorted, and said "Yeah. That's how I do it, too. Black Star may be loud and leave his socks on the bathroom floor, but he's the one who helps me sharpen my blades at the end of the day."

Maka cringed. "I hope that's not a euphemism."

"But the most important thing is," Tsubaki continued, ignoring Maka's horror stricken face, "Black Star, despite using me as a weapon to protect himself, does his best to protect me as well."

They went over every nick and scratch and scar that first night. Both of their skins were like a collection of stars, they could name all of the constellations on each other's bodies. They switched back and forth, echoing "this is from that one kishins that" or "the time you walked into a flag pole while reading" or "when you were trying to change a guitar string and it snapped." They didn't need to repeat the stories; they both present for each and everyone.

"That doesn't make any sense," Maka said flatly.

"It wouldn't, to you," Tsubaki said, nudging Maka's boot with her own. "You and Soul have this suicide pact thing going on. I'm not entirely sure that's healthy, by the way."

Before Maka could object, Tsubaki quoted "'The weapon is always willing to lay his life down for his Meister.' That's all Soul. Nygus never taught us that, ever. At all. The relationship between a Meister and his or her weapon is a partnership; each side has their voice heard. But with you and Soul, it's more like…" Tsubaki paused. Then she made a sound like a cracking whip.

Maka bristled. "Soul is not whipped! We're not even-"

Tsubaki held her hand up. "Please stop. You're not fooling any one. We may not be able to see souls, but we are your friends, and have been for many years. You two are so much closer now, if that's even possible. When you're both in the same room, everyone else feels like they're interrupting something they shouldn't be interrupting."

Sidelong glances. Brushing hands. Fingertips on collar bones. Signals, lighthouses for gossiping ships. She wore more of his clothes because they were convenient to grab. His fangirls stopped glaring and finally looked resigned. They always held hands before, but now something was different. It was something strong, something that made Maka want to pull away.

For the first time since they were 10 years old, Maka realized the tight grip he had on her hand reflected the grip he had on her heart.

Maka groaned and leaned back. She held on to the rough brick with her fingers, the sharp edges dug into the skin of her fingers. It stung, but she tightened her fingers around the brick, and held herself up. She felt Tsubaki's deep eyes on her.

"It's ok to be scared." Tsubaki said quietly.

Maka wrinkled her nose and started to rock back and forth, her calluses scraping up the red from the brick. "I'm not scared."

"Then tell me what your problem is, or I'll knock you over."

"You've been hanging out with Black Star way too mu-UGH!"

Maka leaned too far and slid backwards to the ground with a low thump, a dust cloud rising around her. It swirled around her as she tried to clear her vision. She blinked several times, and relaxed as Tsubaki's concerned face come to focus.

"Maka!" Tsubaki exclaimed. She swung her legs over the wall and rushed over to her fallen friend. She leaned over Maka, the concern fighting the laughter brewing in her eyes. "Are you alright? I was mostly kidding about knocking you over the wall…"

Maka coughed as the dust settled in her lungs. She wanted to lie there and cough until her heart gave out, until she sank beneath the earth and fossilized. In a million years, aliens would dig her up and stick her under a glass plate in a museum. Curators would label her "Girl-who-couldn't-tell-her-maybe-boyfriend-she-loved-him-because-she-was-too-paranoid-about-everthing-asaurus."

Maka sat up, ignoring her friend's outstretched hand. She didn't deserve help right now.

"Honestly," Tsubaki said, letting her arm drop to her side. "You two are making a bigger deal out of this whole thing than you really have to. You love each other. Can't that be the end?"

Maka stifled a groan. She held her arm in front of her and willed it to change. White light flashed and her arm flexed and stretched, becoming black and green Demon steel. She stared at it, tilting it back and forth. It reflected the dimming sunlight, catching Tsubaki's serene expression in the shimmering surface. Tsubaki smiled, quietly admiring her friend's skill.

"You're getting so good."

Another flash of white light and Maka's arm returned to flesh. "I have to protect him, Tsubaki," she mumbled. "I can't lose him."

"You wont, dumbass." Black Star hopped over the brick of the edge of the hillside where Tsubaki and Maka were just sitting. He landed neatly beside Tsubaki. He reached around Tsubaki's neck and pulled her down for a kiss. He let go, and Tsubaki came up gasping for air, red staining her cheeks. Maka tried not to stare. Would she and Soul ever be able to do that in front of people?

They kept it so quiet. But why? Self-preservation? She always held hands, ever since they were small, it was no big deal. But as they grew closer, in body and in mind, it felt different. More significant? Maka sought him out, pushed him out, crawled back to him over and over again. How long would he wait to hear the words she couldn't use? She felt it, he had to know that. When their resonance was sharp and free, did he hear the clumsy music she tried to show him?

Maka looked at him sharply. "How do you know?"

"Because you'll protect each other. In that weird, obsessive way you both have. You wont let each other die."

Maka looked at her almost-brother hesitantly.

"He'll be safer if I found a new partner."

"Not if he gets killed following you and your new partner all over the damn world."

Tsubaki nodded wanly. "His lack of self-preservation is alarming. Liz is talking to him now, right?"

Maka shrugged.

"Better get going, anyway. The goddess and I've got a date with destiny!"

"BlackStar…. We promised we would help…" Tsubaki reminded him, tugging on his collar fruitlessly. BlackStar scooped up a heavily blushing Tsubaki into his arms. The tip of his nose barely grazed her chin while they were standing side by side, but in with her in his arms, the side of his face was smushed right into her breast, something that, Maka suspected numbly, was no accident.

"Put on- or take off I guess- your big girl panties," BlackStar leered, carting Tsubaki off into the forest. "Get the D and that's that. Talking is for lesser beings."

"Oh thanks," Maka said acidly, turning on her heel to watch them disappear through the trees. "When did you become so wise?"

BlackStar did not bother stopping. He threw Maka a mischievous grin over his shoulder as he and a slightly limp Tsubaki stepped over roots and ducked under branches. He said "I've always been wise. You've just stepped up in rankings of my followers."

"You still yell too much," Maka shouted as the last vestiges of BlackStar's bright blue hair faded from view.

"How else can I make sure people listen to me? Besides, yelling worked wonders with this goddess," He called back. Then a sound like someone slapping an open hand on an innocent rear echoed through the woods, followed by a high-pitched giggle.

Maka shook her head slowly, and brushed off the dust that remained on her clothes. The specks flew off of her, and danced in the dimming orange light. She had a long walk back to the apartment, and she wanted to get there before dark.

He said it everyday. He waited. He glanced around, made sure none of their friends where around. Not for himself. He hardly cared. But for her, he'd keep it quiet. He'd only whisper his love for her, mumble it against her skin. He waited. He was a saint. A God. Only that would explain his patience. She pulled her hand away from his more often as she gained control over her body's functions, her pale, soft flesh turned to solid gray steel. She trained harder, avoiding his eyes. Her reflection drowned in their adoring crimson.

Soul lay on the couch, the ugly red vinyl squeaking every time he shifted his weight. The sharp noise pierced his ears, reminding him that it was the only sound other than the bitter silence that hung like a cloud in the apartment. He ran his hand through his hair for what felt like the fiftieth time, but stopped himself halfway though. His brother used to tease him about his hard-formed habit, saying that Soul would end up bald in his twenties if he kept carding his hard over his scalp so many times. It was bad enough being mistaken for an elderly, white-haired, Soul didn't need to be mistaken for an elderly, bald man. Maka hated it too. She said it made his hair stand on end, which made him look more unstable than usual.

Maka.

Soul groaned and sank deeper into the cushions, the sharp squeak made him flinch and cover his ears.

They had to talk. The air between them once crackled with electricity, their attraction to each other palpable. Now, the air sagged, heavy with uncertainty and misery. Soul could hardly remember when what they had between them changed.

Soul dug the palms of his hands into his eye sockets, trying to erase the memories flashing across his brain.

It was a lie. He could remember exactly what changed.

He wasn't sure why he said it. It burst out from him, a sudden gush of steam from a geyser, or a glowing red soul emerging from the remains of a kishin. He watched as the panic flooded her eyes. But she didn't move away from him, or even flinch. She sat, very still, on the bed, the one they had been sharing for years. Then, with a flash of light, her left arm turned to Demon steel and she shredded the feather pillow, sending an explosion of white fluff into both of their faces. Maka apologized for destroying Soul's favorite pillow, jumping off the bed to sweep away the downy white, but not for destroying his heart.

He had only said "I love you" for the first time.

Soul shuddered at the memory, and pressed his palms more firmly into his eye sockets. He would have preferred an outward rejection, rather than three months of tangling with her in an awkward web. He held her at night, trained with her during the day, but her silence tugged at his heart, opening a hole that grew more jagged with each passing day.

But seriously, what was her damn problem?!

Soul couldn't see souls, but he knew Maka. The words were on the tip of her tongue; he felt them when she marked up his neck, when she sighed his name. She did not use words, sometimes he felt like he would never need to hear them, as long as he saw her love when she looked him in the eye.

But those moments were becoming fewer ever since she began to meet with Stein on her own. Weapon business, she often cited, which pissed him off because wasn't her still a weapon too? She was hiding something, Soul decided.

He sat up on the couch, his lower back twinged from being slumped for so long, and vaguely wondered I he should accompany her to her meetings with Stein, if only to find out her secret.

The blood drained from his face. His chest clenched, and his heart hammered.

If she was going to Stein for weapon business that she didn't want him to know about, was she looking for a new partner?!

Soul barely had time to fully register the sickening thought that invaded every corner of his mind when the door of the apartment was flung open, and a shivering Maka barreled though, still in her track jacket and shorts.

She kneeled down, and tugged at the laces of her boots, set to take them off. She muttered indistinctly, but Soul caught the sound of his name.

"What about me?"

Maka squeaked and tilted back, landing on her butt. She looked around herself, rather angrily, and hissed "Again? Seriously, what the fuck?!"

He ignored her, and repeated his question. "What. About. Me?"

If Maka was blushing before, from embarrassment of her fall or from having spent the entire day and part of the evening in her PE uniform, it was nothing compared to the shade of brilliant red her cheeks took on. She got up, and bustled to the kitchen.

"What about you?" she said. Maka opened their refrigerator door, ignoring the red "closed" sign hanging from a magnet, and hid her face from Soul.

Soul huffed, annoyed. He dragged himself off of the couch to follow her, every cell in his body screaming at him to avoid this conversation, to forget that she might make a choice that would leave him in her dust.

She was still determinedly burying her head in their fridge, bent over at the waist. He sighed wistfully, remembering the days he would walk up behind her and press his needy hips into her, and how she would moan and hold the edges of the cold door to give herself leverage, grinding against the swell of the front of his pants. He missed the warmth of her skin, but he missed the ease that they had when they were together more.

He resisted the urge to run a hand across her shapely ass, and just poked her back with an impatient finger.

Maka shrieked loudly. She slammed the refrigerator door shut and whipped around to glare at him. "What is your problem?!"

"You haven't talked to me in months!"

Maka bristled. "I talk to you every day." Soul shook his head and stepped closer to her. Maka drew up her hands to her chest, and leaned away from him. The chrome edge of the door handle of he refrigerator dug into her back.

"You speak," he said, his eyebrows furrowed. "But they're just words."

He was too close to her. Closer than she had let him to in several weeks, since the first meeting she had as a weapon. Maka stood, frozen. She sidestepped around him, brushing his arm with her body, and rushed to the living room. Soul mimed bashing his head into the cold steer door. He followed his partner. He caught the tail ends of her track jacket disappear into her room as the door shut. Without thinking, he marched right to it and threw it open.

Maka stood before her mirror in her panties, her bare back pale white in the dark of her room. Her right forearm twisted into dark demon steel. Soul kept his eyes on her face reflected in the mirror.

She stared back at him.

"I don't want to do this."

Soul closed the door behind him and sat on the edge of her bed closest to her. He was close enough to feel her warmth, to smell her lotion under the sweat of the day. If he leaned forward, his knees would brush the back of her legs, he could lean his forehead on the skin of her back. He sat, and listened.

"I thought becoming a weapon would make me stronger."

"It did," Soul said. He reached for her, his finger tips grazed the skin of her back. She drew a soft breath, and turned. Maka's green eyes were glazed over with tears. Soul let his hand drop.

"It did," she repeated. The bed creaked as she sat, the pink sheets crinkled under her weight. She legs curled up to her chest and wrapped her arms, both of them flesh, around them. She was closer to him; her toes touched the outside of his thigh.

Maka was ambitious. She wanted to be the best, and she had the potential and more than enough drive. But what did Soul have? He could turn into a scythe. But for his partner it was a cheap parlor trick now, a rouse she could pull off on her own.

She didn't need him.

She could walk away.

Soul reached over to her again, to her pigtail this time, running his fingers though the silky strands. She pushed her head into his hand, her eyes closed. She savored the feel of his hand on her cheek.

"I need a Meister."

Maka felt Soul's hand stiffen. She had to be quick, before her entire soul decided to come out of her mouth. Her heart was already in her throat, threatening to engulf the words that she needed to say.

"You're my partner, Soul. I've been your Meister for most of my life. But it's different now. And… and I have to give you a choice. If you want to leave m- our partnership… I'd be ok with that."

"Maka-"

It was Maka's turn to silence; she raised her hand to touch his lips, to stop him from speaking. She almost looked guilty.

"Let finish. I have been giving you orders. But… I want you to choose. I mean you need to choose. I mean-ah."

Maka took the hand that was on Soul's lips and rubbed her face with it. Soul tried not to laugh. The gesture was so familiar to Soul, it was almost comical. She always called him an idiot, but she was the one struggling for words this time. "Habits, ugh. What I mean is it is up to you to choose. Whether or not you want to be my meister."

"I don't-"

"Just wait. I don't want another partner but-"

"Another partner?! What? What the hell are you talking about?" He asked, his heart in his throat. "I don't want you to get another partner either!"

He gripped her face between his hands, gently, enough to hold her still. "I love you. I've had you since I was 10, Maka. There is no one but you. No matter, what I choose you every time."

"N-not just because I'm your Meister?" Maka's tears made shining trails down her face. Soul kissed both of her cheeks, and then rested his forehead against hers.

"No, idiot."

"Soul…" Maka tugged on his wrists.

Soul leaned back to look directly at her.

"I know it's hard for you. You're going to try to protect me, like you did during the match with BlackStar and Tsubaki. That can't happen when we're in a fight."

"It wont."

"Can you tell me that honestly? You wont get in the way if I need to slice through a kishins, or even a witch? Because I can get another Meister, easy."

Soul grimaced. His hands slid from her face to her neck, to her shoulders. "Thanks for making me special, Maka."

"Seriously, Soul." She took his hands and put them on her knees, holding them there with her own hands. "It would be so much easier, Soul. I could leave and get kishins souls and make all of the death scythes and make myself a death scythe and do all of that. But I can't. Well. I can. But it's not fun without you. I like sharing all of this with you. But I'm so scared that you'll say no. What if you really don't want to be my meister? What if you want to stay here and be Kid's scythe and really live the title and get all the girls-"

"Maka, what other girls? I swear I'm not going to be like your dad."

"I know your not, idiot, I'd kill you. I mean. I want you to have options. I want you to be free to chose but…" She stifled a sob. "But I'm afraid you wont choose me."

"Maka…"

"Soul, you can be free. I'm not just your Meister any more. I lo-uh care about you. I c-care about what you want. And if you want to stay a weapon, do it. If you want, I mean. It's your choice."

Soul stared at her. "You were going to say it."

"Say what?" She asked blankly.

"Don't be stupid. SAY IT!"

"STUPID?!" Maka wrenched away from him, scrambling to the headboard. She seemed to realize that she was still not wearing a shirt or a bra, squeaked, her face a brilliant red, and she dove under her pink sheets.

"MAKA!" Soul crawled after her, and yanked at the blanket covering her head. Maka lost her grip and the blanket got pulled to her waist. "BE HONEST!"

Maka's face crumpled. She raised a hand. For one bizarre moment, Soul thought she was going reach out for him, ask for comfort, so he scooted closer to her, and held out his arm to embrace her.

Maka sat up and smashed her fist on to the top of his head, howling with tears.

Soul clutched his head. "What is your problem?"

"Of course I love you, you idiot! I wouldn't be in this stupid situation if I didn't!" She pulled him up bodily from his prone position by the collar of his orange shirt. "I don't want to leave you but I will if we can't work together. We can't keep sacrificing our lives for each other- It's stupid, and it's going to end up with one of us alone! Can't you see? Can't you see why it would be so much better if I didn't love you? I could leave your stupid ass or you could leave mine and we could go on our merry way. But noooooo! We have to have feelings and want to stay together. It is so annoying," she added, like an after thought.

"But here we are," Soul said ruefully, quietly.

"Here we are," Maka agreed. She released him, and sat back, intent on lying down, but Soul pulled her forward by her shoulders to embrace her.

He tucked her under his chin, cradling her in his lap. She was tiny, but strong. She sighed, her cool minty breath fanning across his neck. He shivered, and she ran her hand across his chest.

"You love me," she whispered. She could feel his heart speed up under her palm.

"Yup."

Soul moved his face to bury it in her neck. He pressed his mouth to her pulse, feeling it thrum under his sensitive lips.

"Say it," he said, ghosting his mouth over her skin.

"But you know," Maka whined.

He bit down on her skin, sucking until he was sure a mark would bloom. She groaned, shifted out of his lap. Maka rose to her knees in front of him. He could see the goose bumps across skin. She held his face between her hands, like her had done to her. It was getting harder for Soul to pay more attention to her face rather than her bare breasts. He was tired, and his concentration shot to hell. But she held him steady, like always.

"I love you, you idiot." She pressed her lips to his.

Soul returned the kiss eagerly. He nipped at her lip, drawing a small gasp from her. Her tongue sought his, licking lightly along his bottom lip. He opened his mouth, making a contented noise in the back of his throat as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He pushed them both over, hugging her tightly to his chest, so that he lay partially on her and shifted their legs until they were tangled. He kissed his way to her neck, across her collarbone, and down her sternum. His mouth ghosted over the skin of her breasts, the softness tickling the surface of his lips. She gasped and wiggled against him, trying to get more of her skin in his mouth.

"Soul," she pleaded. Her desperate rasp went straight to his dick. He ignored his suddenly uncomfortable pants and obliged his Master. Soul took inventory of her pink nipples, making sure his tongue thoroughly memorized the pebbled texture. He tugged at her skin with sharp teeth. Her hands tangled in his white hair, holding him to her chest. She wrapped her legs around his hips, pressing herself closer to the tent in his jeans. The rough denim scraped the inside of her delicate thighs, a reminder that he was still wearing pants. Maka ran her hands down Soul's back to his waist, coming to the front to unbutton his pants. He sat up and pushed his pants down, along with his boxers. He didn't get his pants all the way off, though, before Maka pushed him down. She lay her bare chest on his, savoring the warmth of their skin rubbing together. Soul put his pants on her waist, fingering the edge of her panties. He pulled her leg over so she was straddling him. He could feel her wetness soaking through the thin satin of her pink panties. She ground her hips to his, sighing. Soul gripped Maka tighter, directing her movement until she was on his dick. He groaned, bucking up against her wet pussy. He had to calm his heated blood.

"Ladies first," he said, leering, and pulled Maka up. She looked at him with heavy eyelids, her arousal glazing her green eyes over. He tugged on her hips, helping her settle on his chest. Maka stretched her legs, the backs of her knees meeting his shoulders. Soul helped her out of her panties, pulling them down her long legs. Maka managed to get one leg out before Soul pulled her forward again. Maka kneeled over him, settling her knees around his ears. She looked down at him and tried to stop herself from grinding her pussy against his mouth. Soul grinned up at her, and licked his lips. He kissed the inside of her thighs with a loud smack.

Soul's hands measured the gentle angle of her waist, rubbing small circles her skin with his thumbs. She threaded her hands in his hair, trying to pull his mouth closer to her pussy.

"Impatient Master." He sighed, his hot breath fanned across her pussy. Maka moaned, louder this time. One of his hands went to hold his dick, hard and pulsing. He stroked himself, tugging, and ran a thumb across the head. Soul pressed his face into thigh, muffling his own moan. He wondered vaguely how many neighbors they could wake up tonight.

"I love you," said Soul, and he dragged his tongue across her wet slit.

Maka's entire existence was reduced to her clit and his tongue.

Her hands groped her breasts, and tugged at his hair. The sensation of his long tongue against her folds drove everything else from her mind. She had watched him swallow souls for so many years, watching him curl his tongue around the shining, wispy spheres.

"Soul, Souls, Soul!" She chanted his name like a prayer, in hopes that he would hear it, and answer it in kind.

"Whatever you want, Maka." He kissed her clit. "Whatever you want." She bucked into his face, and they moaned together, singing the chorus to their song.

Soul slipped a finger inside her, establishing a rhythm in time with Maka's harsh breaths and his pounding heart. He added a second finger and her hips went wild, twitching and writhing, wanting more of his skin on hers, wanting more of his wet, hot tongue on her wet, hot folds. He had to hold her firmly his face, gripping her tightly in his hands. He couldn't keep her from flailing, but he was deep in Maka-land and barely noticed her pussy covering his nose as she tried to pull him closer to her needy core.

Soul did notice that when he tried to draw a breath, he found that he couldn't breath with her pussy in his mouth and nose. He slapped blindly at her ass, opening his mouth wider. He tried to say her name. Maka only half-screamed at the new sensation, screwing her eyes shut. She squeezed her knees around his head, grinding down. Soul used the last of his strength to lift her a little. He gasped for air, finally drawing Maka's attention back.

"Wha…? Soul no don't stop! Go go go!" She settled back over his face, her slick pussy over his mouth, but his nose was mercifully clear.

Soul huffed a laugh. He went back to work, licking and swirling his tongue around her clit. He sucked her flesh into his mouth. Her voice, ragged, and increased in volume. Each whimper slowly turned to screams released from between gritted teeth, as she tried to keep herself quiet. Finally, after one honest and true scream, where her voice echoed and reverberated in his ears, he gave himself a moment to grin against her slit.

He traced her body with his eyes. The lithe muscles of her stomach, her breasts (perfect handfuls, fuck his 12 year old self), the collarbones he loved to suck. Her neck and jaw, bruised by his sharp teeth; her pink lips, gasping for air. Her green eyes, the perfect complement to his red, watched him. He had stopped, and she was disinterested in why. She closed her legs around his head, nudging him closer to her center. Soul almost laughed. She was so cute. Cute, in their bed, and with him. He felt her pulsing against his mouth, saw her flushed skin shine with sweat. The hand gripping his dick tugged harder, stroking in time with Maka's harsh breaths. His hips flexed and bucked into his hand.

He sucked her clit into his mouth again, and reached around her thigh to push two fingers inside of her. Maka's back arched as she screamed, tightening her hands at the roots of his hair. Maka flopped over sideways, and dragged self over to him to kiss him. She could taste herself on his tongue. He moaned against her mouth, his hand working himself harder. Maka wrapped her hand around his as he stroked himself; she licked the sweat along the column of his neck. She bit his throat, tugging the skin between her teeth, and he spilled onto their clasped hands, and hot, sticky come landing on his stomach.

Maka sighed contentedly, laying her head on his chest. Soul hugged her to himself tightly, and kissed the top of her head. He breathed into her hair, enjoying the scent of her shampoo. He could stay like that forever, holding her, never letting go, forgetting about Meisters and Weapons and just being Soul and Maka.

But then Maka poked him in the chest, hard.

"Agh! What the hell, Maka?"

"You still haven't answered." She rolled so that she was lying on her stomach beside him, with her hand folded under her chin. "Will you be my Meister?"

"Maka, I'm hurt," Soul replied mockingly. "I thought a proposal would be more… special."

She slapped his chest, chuckling nervously. She rolled her eyes, but Soul could read the anxiety in her them.

"Maka." He sat up slightly, holding his weight by his elbows. She tensed beside him. She would miss the sound of her name on his lips.

"Maka," he repeated. "I'll be your Meister. I'll be your weapon. I'll be your boyfriend, your lover, your best friend. I'll be whatever you want me to be." He resting his hand on her cheek.

"As long as I am with you, it doesn't matter."

Maka smiled, tears filled her eyes. "You're so corny."

"Ah, shuddup."

She laughed, and tucked herself close to him. She closed her eyes, intent on sleep. It had been a long, fricking day. Soul's fingers traced patterns on the skin of her back. Her breathing slowed, soothed for the night.

"One question, though," Soul said hesitantly.

Maka's eyes shot open. "What?"

"Why where you naked when I came in?"

She bristled and lifted her head to glare at him. "It's my room! I can be ask naked as I want."

Soul smirked and patted her head. "I would be ok if you were as naked as you wanted to be, all the time. Just saying."

Maka scoffed and lay her head back down. She was too riled to sleep now. She squirmed.

"Got something to say, Albarn?" The tension that had lingered between them for months had evaporated, and now Soul was trying to make up for the lost time. He was going to tease her until she cracked. It was going to be a long few weeks, Maka thought miserably.

Then it hit her. There was only one way to shut him up.

"So, Soul," Maka said, nonchalantly. "Now that I'm going to be the weapon on a more regular basis, I think that you, as the more experienced weapon, should teach me the tricks of the trade."

Soul furrowed his eyebrows, not sure he understood where she was going with this. "Like what?"

"Like how to study for weapon-only exams!"

"Oh, hell no, not that boring shit. If anything, I'm going teach you how to the cool stuff. Like, what to do with kishins souls after we capture them."

"Oh," Maka said innocently. "Does that mean you're going to teach me how to swallow?"

Soul coughed and sputtered.