A/N: A Soul Eater project, consisting of a series of unrelated (hopefully brief) vignettes.
Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater, and am making no profit from this fanfiction. All genius belongs to Atsushi Okubo.
"Soul, which one? Blue or purple?"
Soul glanced over disinterestedly. Did he really have to choose? "Do you even have to ask?"
Maka cast a dark, hawkish look at him with her mucus-green eyes. Soul returned her look squarely and unaffectedly, half-wondering what she had it in her heart to do. After a while, her eyes narrowed, then slid back over to the rack. "Pink, then."
Soul was ruffled. "Blue."
"No, I already chose. Too bad."
Maka sniffed imperiously. "I gave you the courtesy of choosing, but since you didn't take advantage of it, you're just going to have to live with a new, pink jacket."
"Why do I even need a new one?"
She frowned, as if the answer was plain to her. "Your old one is getting too small." As if to emphasize her observation, she plucked the faded, yellow sleeve, and nodded.
"It's not. And I'm not wearing that, even if you buy it, Maka."
Maka puckered, then sourly returned the pink jacket to its proper place and picked up the blue one. She flipped her pigtails back at him and angrily, wordlessly stomped up to the cash register.
"Well?" Maka began, blinking at him expectantly.
Soul looked up from the television set, blinking back. "Well, what?"
She dangled the jacket in front of him. "Aren't you going to try it on now?" Rather unenthused, but having nothing better to do, Soul accepted the garment and pulled off his tattered, yellow one. Maka watched as his old coat floated to the couch, looking flat and defeated. She could see all the small, makeshift mends and repairs she had made on it. It looked squished now, but they had gone through a lot with that jacket of Soul's.
She glanced up from her bout of nostalgia. Soul was holding his arms up, displaying the jacket as if he were a storefront mannequin. "How does it look?"
Out of place. "Looks good," she said, a little less cheerful than she should have been.
"Okay." Soul shrugged it off, tossed it back to her, and pulled on his old one. She clutched the blue garb as she watched Soul plop back onto the sofa and resume watching television, wearing his yellow like an old friend.
Maka mumbled something to Soul about washing the rest of the dishes before retreating to her room. She fumbled around for the bag and neatly folded the merchandise in. Tomorrow, she was going to return it.
She'd get him a tailor-made one. Maybe with patches of the old one in it.