A/N: Super short cracky drabble that came out of the discussion of what would happen if weapons had magical girl-like transformations. I really don't know what else to say other than I hope you think it's funny.
"So why are we doing this again?" Soul grouches, rubbing one eye tiredly as the sun rises behind him.
"I told you, remember?" Maka reminds him, squinting rather than looking at him because the reflected light off his white hair is practically blinding. (When she had questioned it during their first meeting yesterday, he maintained that it was natural but it wasn't until he had deadpanned that he could offer "empirical evidence" that it was natural that she had hastily dropped the subject.)
He shrugs. "You've told me a lot of things."
Maka's fingers twitch but her tone is patient. "The DWMA doesn't recognize us as official partners unless we succeed at this starter mission. Someone will be watching to see how we do."
He frowns. "That's a little dangerous, isn't it?"
"It would be," she sighs, coming to a stop, "if we were battling a bigger version of that." She points ahead of them, toward one of Death City's bridges.
Under one of the bridge wanders a troll, an ugly mustard yellow and about a head shorter than the two of them.
"Oh," Soul says, bemusement creasing his brow. He pauses. "Do we really have to do this? It looks cu-I mean, harmless."
Maka looks at him in amused disbelief. "You were about to call it cute, weren't you?"
His expression doesn't change but Soul reddens a little. "No, of course not. It's just that it seems kinda mean to attack first."
She sighs, reminding herself that Soul was still a newcomer to Death City. "Look, if we don't take care of it now, then it's going to be a problem later and it'll hurt, even kill, innocent people."
Soul doesn't look completely convinced but he nods. "If you say so."
"I do." She holds out her hand. "Come on then, I thought you said you were the coolest weapon ever. Transform."
Soul blanches visibly but he gives her a half-smirk and complies.
Maka's vision explodes into one of stars and rainbows.
Instead of a regular flash of white light (like her father's transformation), Soul shifts to his scythe form in a dazzling array of color accompanied by sparkles much brighter than Maka's ever seen before.
She looks away, feeling her lungs constrict as she chokes down a sob of laughter but then she makes the mistake of looking over at Soul again.
His eyes are halfway closed and his nose is in the air, arms crossed in a "couldn't care less" attitude. But he's watching her out of the corner of his eye and at her face, the self-satisfied smirk he was wearing quickly replaced by a little pout.
Maka catches Soul purely out of instinct because the tears streaming from her eyes because of how hard she's laughing prevents her from seeing pretty much anything.
She doubles over, using Soul to keep herself from rolling on the ground.
"A rainbow," she wheezes. "You're a rainbow."
Soul's voice floats out, tinny and highly unamused. "Yeah, yeah, laugh your head off, fat ankles."
Even Soul's insult can't stem her laughter. Eventually, she stops laughing enough to stand up straight.
"I'm sorry," she hiccups, wiping her eyes.
"Yeah, you better be," he grumbles, his face appears in the scythe's blade. His white hair seems to be sticking up everywhere more so than usual, his pout from earlier still etched on his face.
Maka stares at him for a moment and then she bursts out, "You're a magical girl!"
She dissolves into giggles and can't keep her hold on Soul, letting him fall to the ground with a clang as she falls to her knees and rolls with mirth.
By now, their prey has ran away, be it from Maka's screeches or the ungodly amount of light Soul let off when he transformed.
Soul's miffed voice reaches her somehow. "You wait, I'll get you back for this."
"Yeah, with what?" she asks in a strangled voice. "With your supersonic piano wave combination?"
"Like that'd ever happen!"
Soul is never quite able to live down how his "supersonic piano wave combination" beat Arachne.