Chapter Text
Maka walked into the D.W.S. with a small but confident grin on her face. She knew exactly why she was there and it showed. Heads turned, but were quick to turn away again when they realized she wasn't too interesting to look at. She met the eyes of the employee at the front desk, making sure to smile wider as she slapped down her thick folder of documents.
“One scythe, please!” she said, the cheer in her tone entirely real. From the raised eyebrow the receptionist gave her, it probably didn’t sound like it.
“Please take a seat while I certify your credentials,” they said, dragging the papers toward them. “It may take a while, so please be patient.” Maka nodded, turning around to take a seat, and pretended not to hear the long-suffering sigh the agent let out. She was in too good of a mood to be upset over the wait or the bad service.
Just a week prior, she’d finally had her sixteenth birthday, rendering her eligible for a weapon partner. She’d wanted to find one the day of, but her parents talked her down together, walking her through the process of getting her official meister license so she could put the weapon under her name instead of her mother's. She received her license the day before and cleared her schedule for the next week to look for the perfect partner. Technically, sixteen was the age where people were legally allowed to start practicing for a license and eighteen was when they could apply for missions and go out into the field on their own, but everyone knew parents taught their kids long before that and nobody was particularly inclined to care.
Her dad often let her practice with him, but he was a scythe, not a scythe meister. Her mother tried to help, but there was only so much she could do when they only saw each other three or four times a year. By now, Maka was more self-taught than anything.
She sat down on one of the plastic chairs, pulling a book out of her bag and opening to the bookmarked page. She’d anticipated the wait, so of course she prepared for it. Though she didn’t tend to think much in the heat of the moment, she learned to anticipate her own thoughtlessness and made sure to prepare ahead of time for her own decisions.
It was only ten minutes later that her name was called, and she snapped her head up, stuffing the book into her bag (oh, she forgot to bookmark her page) and jumping to her feet. The employee who probably didn’t read the entire folder directed her through the back door, passing her a black slip of paper. They told her to give it to one of the handlers and they’d help her find what she was looking for, and she gave them a smile and a wave as she nearly skipped deeper into the building.
There was a handler waiting just beyond the second door, a tall, muscular man with cornrows and a severe expression. His nametag read “Sid”, though it was attached to the white bandanna around his head instead of his shirt. He didn’t give her a chance to speak before he held out his hand, and she obediently gave him the paper, a beaming smile on her face.
“I really hope you have a scythe on hand, because this is the fourth shelter I’ve been to today and none of the other ones had one,” she sighed. He grunted, peering at her over the paper.
“Makes sense, they’re pretty rare. Yeah, we have one. Wouldn’t have sent you back here if we didn’t, the receptionist would’ve let you know. Can’t recommend it though, been taken home and returned more times than any other weapon here. But if you’re still interested, I’ll show it to you anyway. That’s the kind of man I am.” At her eager nod, he turned and strode off down the hall. She had to half jog to catch up to him. She peered at the many barred enclosures they passed with fascination, thrown by how normal the weapons looked. If it weren’t for the thin iron bands around their throats, she could’ve passed them on the streets and thought they were human.
They were almost to the very end of the row when Sid finally stopped. Maka nearly ran into his back, distracted as she was with the weapons. He grabbed for his belt, keys jangling as he searched for the right one. Maka peered through the bars, spying a glimpse of white hunched in the corner.
“It’s part of my job to warn you if you’re thinking about getting a weapon considered dangerous,” Sid said, going through the entire ring of keys once again when he didn't find what he was looking for. “Like I said before, this one’s been in and out a lot. Nobody can seem to get a handle on it. Even with the heavy-duty suppressors, it makes trouble. So if this is the one you decide to take home, be careful and watch your back. Don’t let it out of your sights.”
“I won’t.” Maka nodded solemnly, feeling a flutter in her chest as he found the right key and fit it into the lock. It turned with a heavy clunk, and he pulled the door open wide, waving for her to walk in. And walk in she did.
She made a beeline for the white-haired weapon curled in the corner, feeling her smile grow the closer she got. She knew ever since her mother placed her father’s snath in her hands that she was meant to have a scythe for a weapon. It didn’t even have anything to do with her father being a scythe. All that mattered was following in her mother’s footsteps and becoming the next generation’s brightest scythe meister, making her parents proud.
“Hello!” She paused in front of the weapon, crouching down so they were face to face. It peeked at her over its arms, eyes blood red and lacking pupils. “My name is Maka! I’ve been looking for a scythe weapon for a long time now, and you’re the first one I found. So it looks like I’ll be taking you home today!” She paused, waiting for a response other than a blank, unnerving stare. It scoffed and tucked its face into its knees again. A dismissal if she’d ever seen one. Her smile twitching, she stood up, trotting to the door and returning with a band strapped to her wrist. She didn’t miss how those strange red eyes locked onto it from under its messy fringe.
“Listen. I only just now found you, so I really don’t want to have to go this far yet. Can’t we be civil for at least a day first?” Its gaze darted back to her face, studying her for a long moment.
And then it laughed, dry and humorless and breathless.
“Sure. As soon as you take this thing off.” It tilted its head back, baring its throat. Despite herself, Maka grimaced at the sight. Unlike the more modern, streamlined bands that could almost pass for chokers, the scythe’s band was thick and clunky and obviously heavy, complete with matching ones around its wrists. Whoever designed it obviously didn’t have convenience or comfort on their mind. At the sight of scratched, bloodied skin around it, she almost felt pity. It probably had the same restraints since it was young.
“Ha, ha. Nice try. The only way you’re getting that thing off is if you’re a corpse.” She rolled her eyes, holding her hand out to it. “Now get up, I’m taking you home. Don’t try anything.” She added the last part because of the spark of defiance she saw in its eyes, true to the warning she was given. As she watched, they rolled back at her.
“Fine, whatever. Let’s get this over with.” It took her hand, pulling itself up. She was surprised to see it was nearly the same height as her, if not an inch or two taller. It wasn’t fully grown yet like she assumed from its raspy voice. Maybe it was even the same age as her, she’d have to check later. She turned to leave the stale old cell, feeling a thrill in her chest when she heard quiet footsteps follow behind her.
“I think this one will do,” she told Sid with a smile. He nodded back, looking not quite at her but over her shoulder.
“The receptionist will talk prices with you,” he said. “And remember, you can return the weapon at any time in any condition for any reason and we’ll give you a full refund, no questions asked. That’s the kind of business we are.” He took a packet from a shelf attached to the wall, passing it to her. “That’s all the info you'll need for your new weapon. If you have any questions or concerns, it has our number in there, too. We’ll do our best to help.” Then he leaned closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “And remember to be careful. This one’ll bite your throat out if you give it the chance.”
“I’ll be okay, thank you.” Maka stepped around him with a laugh. “Bye, Mr. Sid! Thank you for your help!” He waved at her, and she strolled back to the lobby with the scythe right on her heels. She could feel it staring, burning red-hot holes into the back of her head. She knew what it was probably thinking. She was just a dumb, skinny brat, right? It could probably take her and escape, right?
Wrong.
Oh, so very wrong.
Unsurprisingly, she ended up forking over quite a bit of cash at the desk before they let her sign the official ownership documents. Scythes were rare, she knew that, but it didn’t stop her from frowning and muttering bitterly about the price. She wasn’t wanting for much, but she wasn’t swimming in yen, either. But ultimately, the documents were signed and the fees were paid, and by the time she walked out of the building fifteen minutes later, the white-haired shadow at her shoulder officially, legally belonged to her.
She beamed the entire way home, neither ignoring nor acknowledging the silently spiteful eyes on her.