A/N- Thanks for the feedback! I really appreciate it! I'm going back and editing this story since I'm not very satisfied with it. Tell me what you think? ~Ravenn
Chapter 1: Change
As Soul walked down the hall, a faint smile on his face, his mind was going a million miles an hour. His team had won the basketball tournament that day in gym and they were the talk of the school. Now all he felt like doing though was scarfing down whatever excuse for food the Shibusen cafateria was serving that day. Sadly, he had business to attend to before then and their lunch break was only thirty minutes, so Soul quickened his pace. If he hurried there may still be time to steal some of Maka's food. As soon as the weapon dumped whatever junk he had in his locker he'd be free to dash over there.
As Soul approached his locker, a sense of dread engulfed him. Ever since he became a Death Scythe the poor weapon had been getting letters. All sorts of them, from love letters to partner proposals and each time he would just dump them all in the trash, but it seemed as if the pile in his locker was growing in size. As Soul did the combination on his lock, he could already hear the paper inside of the enclosure moving around, so with a brave face he yanked the door open. As he suspected, a mountain of paper fell out, causing the vermillion eyed teen to jump backwards.
"How many'd you get this time?" It was Maka of course, only she would come just as he was almost drown in a sea of paper.
"This is so not cool." Soul finally sighed after the blonde girl began to chortle. He stooped down to pick them up and eventually Maka followed his example. She read the names on each envelope before tossing them inside if the recycle bin though, to Soul's chagrin.
"Dear Soul: This past month I realized just how much I love you! You are the coolest guy in school! Plus you're a Death Scythe and totally hot! Will you go out with me? Love Vanessa." Maka read, yet another letter in her hand. Soul practically tackled her, causing both of them to fall into the pile of barf inducing letters.
"Give it back, Maka! Before my ears start bleeding!" She only laughed and shook her head. Finally, Soul was able to pin her down before she went parading around the whole school talking about some random person's undying love to him. "Give. It. Back." He hissed, as serious as the situation allowed. The green-eyed meister pouted but did accept her defeat by relinquishing the letters she'd been holding hostage.
"Fine, you're no fun." She complained. He promptly threw them in the trash this time along with the rest of the trouble-making pieces of paper. Still slightly mad at her for the stunt she'd pulled earlier, (someone could have walked by!) Soul started walking down the hall without her. She would complain a bit and maybe Maka Chop him but he knew the small girl would catch up. She always did. To his surprise Maka stayed quiet, choosing to whistle something oddly familiar while walking beside him instead. He wasn't opposed to this though. It wasn't everyday that they had quiet time like this.
They went to a school called Shibusen. It was unknown to the general public what is done within it's walls of who goes there, but the acadamy is held to a very high standard. Weapons and Meisters from all over the world come to Death City to train at their school. They each come together, one meister to a weapon, to learn about the insanity within the world and defeat it. For some people this place is a dream; they wait their whole life to fulfil the expectations placed on them at birth, but for others like Soul Eater Evans, it was an escape.
He grew up in a very strict household. The Evans family was one of the most prestegious in the world and was outshined by nobody in the world of music. His mother, Rosaleen Evans, was actually his step-mother. She treated him and his brother, Wes, horribly since birth. Everyone was afraid to oppose her ways, even the brothers' dad and so it continued. The only good thing she ever allowed them was picking their own instrument.
At the age four, piano sounded good so that's what Soul picked. It was fun to bang on and the notes sounded pretty. That was the only logic behind the decision at the time. The next day he had a teacher and five hours of every day of his life since then was dedicated to learning how to make it sound "more pretty". There was no doubt that his improvement was dramatic and by the time he was fourteen written pieces of all sorts and levels could no longer put a light to the word challenge.
The issue came when he was told to write.
"Write something for us Soul, darling! I'm sure you can do it. Let's say... by our party at the end of the month?" He had only smiled and replied with "Yes, Mother" before retreating to his room. This was not good. Not at all. It had been a disaster of course. His soul was a deep dark place that no socialite would understand. His music had been everything they would hate: loud, clashing, and moody.
Two days later his arm became a sharp, long weapon and by the end of the week, Soul was on a train to Death City. He didn't know if it was the right choice, but he knew that he wasn't planning on returning any time soon. The prodigy had dropped his last name the first chance he got and settled on just Soul Eater. He didn't want her finding him now did he? His next problem made it's self obvious when, after three days of meister and weapon 'Get Togethers', he had yet to talk to a single person. Soul was antisocial. Always had been and it proably wasn't changing anytime soon.
Eventually he gave up on talking to the others altogether and began wandering through the house. On his third time he found a dark room, beautifully hidden within the mansion, with a baby grand piano inside of it. The pale haired teen was ecstatic. Finally something that was remotely inside of his element. He was in the room playing out his soul when, to his utter astonishment, he heard a person walk in. Thoughts flashed through his mind. What others always thought of his playing so he abruptly stopped, the music clashing oddly.
"Play something nicer Soul?"
"Why is it so depressing Soul?"
"Why can't you play like Wes, Soul?"
Not once in his life had anyone ever had a single nice thing to day about his music, so he almost laughed in bemusement when soft clapping came from behind him. What sort of person would clap for him? He turned around slowly, shocked by what he saw. It was a small girl with honey brown hair that was worn in two pigtails on either side of her head. She had on a flowing black jacket that was entirely too long over another outfit that certainly didn't meet the dressing standards of the formal party. What really drew Soul in though were her eyes. They were a light olive green and reflected every emotion you wouldn't expect to see from someone with such a frail, helpless appearance.
"That song...was so sad," she said wistfully, "but there is something about it that drew me in. Like there is more to it than meets the eye you know? It was very beautiful." The girl's eyes were dreamlike and sort of clouded over, as if her thoughts were some place else.
Soul froze. Never had anyone ever complimented his compositions. Playing? Sure, but his music? Never. She had to be lying. "What?"
"I said I liked your music. It was perfectly in synch with your wavelength too." The girl commented off-hand. Soul supressed a grin; she liked my music.
Wow. She was the only person to ever see past the darkness of the song. This girl was truly different and Soul was shocked. Someone actually stuck around long enough to get past the minor chords. To see that there was more than meets the eye in the piece. More to him than that. Someone cared enough to find out who was behind the music. She's different than the rest just kept running through his head.
After a moment of silence she stuck out her hand. "Maka Albarn; Technician." Soul looked back at her, unsure of how to respond. She wasn't like the others. There was something different that made him positive that she was the one. The weapon took her firm hand and shook it.
"Soul Eater; Scythe Weapon."
A fresh new start.
If only things were that easy now. He did make the right decision in choosing Maka as his meister. They were the perfect team and had actually already fulfilled every weapon and meister's goal: Turning their weapon into a death weapon. That and because of the fact that she was everything he'd ever hoped to find at Shibusen. She was his idiotic, Maka Chopping, bookworm of a meister but she was his and he wouldn't trade her for the world.
Even if she was underdeveloped.
Which is why he was so furious when he was told that he was expected to switch partners after reaching Death Scythe status. How could they even ask him that? Soul was seriously considering renouncing his position when Maka stepped in to stop him. "Did you know?" Soul whispered angrily. She mumbled back quietly, so he repeated himself.
"Did you know this was going to happen when you madde me into a Death Scythe?" his voice was ice. cold and menacing. However he remembered to keep his anger in check; he would never forgive himself if he hurt her.
She looked down, bangs shadowing her eyes.
"Yes, but it was the only way to turn you into a Death Scythe. I'm sure you'll find a new partner. One that's better and more attractive." Then she turned away from him, walking in the other direction. Soul panicked. She couldn't leave! Not yet, so he ran after her. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, spinning the cryiing girl around in the process.
"Let me go Soul!" she whispered, eyes glued to the floor.
"Maka..." He held her to his chest, refusing to let her leave.
"Do you really think that I would trade you in so easily? That you mean so little to me?"
She stared at me blankly for a moment. Then he felt water begin to seep through his shirt. Maka was crying! She never cried. He had lived with her three whole years and only once had he ever seen her cry. Whether it be out of pain or sorrow or happiness she never cried. Until now. But that didn't change the fact that he needed an answer from her.
"I-I just figured that you would move on. I'm just your old Meister. You're already a Death Scythe. One of Shibusen's best; you work for Shinigami himself! You don't need me anymore. All your admirers will keep you company." She gave me a weak smile before hiding her face again. Was this really the same Maka that he'd known for years? She was usually so strong-willed and confident, but now she was crying. Over him. Soul can't stand tears, and even though it goes against all of his morals as a cool guy the cocky weapon knew that if he didn't do something soon things between them would only get worse.
"Maka," He waited until she looked up at me before continuing, "I would never-ever pick any other person over you. All of those admirers only want to get to know me because of my status, but you," He looked her straight in the eyes, "You took me in as your weapon ages before I was worth anything, even though you could easily have picked someone better you picked dark, broken me. Even if I were to switch partners, even for a day, I'd be wishing it were you there instead the whole time." She looked...surprised. Like she couldn't believe what she'd just heard. Moments ticked by slowly. Though only a few seconds had passed but it had felt like an eternity for him. Then she smiled.
Sweet relief. he didn't realize how tense he was until his anxiety melted away. Slowly, she wound her arms around his back. She felt so fragile and breakable. Just one more reason to keep her by his side. "Thanks" was all she said before removing her hands. Maka began to walk ahead, like always, but then she spun around so that Soul could see her face. Hardly a trace of her recent meltdown still showed in her features. Her silhouette seemed lighter now compared to earlier and there was a slight spring in her step. His meister looked, although he'd never admit it out loud, cute.
"Let's go home, Soul." She looked at him with a smile that made even my spirits lift. He smiled. Maka was offering to ditch. This was truly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. he could bet money that she's never missed a day of school in her life unless she was sick.
"After you." She climbed onto his bike, carefully. (Some things never changed) Then Soul hopped on in front of her. His keys went into the ignition, and not a second went by before the purr of the engine sounded. Maka's hands found their way around his waist just as he revved the engine.
It was calming in a way to have the wind blowing through his hair. It gave him a few much needed minutes of solace. He knew that it wouldn't last forever, but he was determined to enjoy the good times they had left before things got a lot worse. And they would.
They always did.
Okay! I just edited ths since (In my opinion) this was a piece of crap before. I still don't like it much but I guess it's up to you guys huh? Thanks for the awesome reviews and I'll keep writing if you keep reviewing! I just added to the plot a bit...hooray for foreshadowing:)