Chapter Text
Coming back home is like ripping off a bandaid. It’s the wound, forever mapping your skin, your respite, the remedy. It’s scary, despite its familiarity. You know it'll hurt , and the longer you wait the more it will sting.
Maka has called Death City home for as long as she could remember. She’s watched the leaves change color every season, she could point out every new shop that popped up on the city square. Maka could navigate this town with her eyes closed.
Though her entire life was spent exploring its depths, she had never seen the inside of Death City International Airport.
At the beginning of the summer, her and mama had lugged their hard suitcases together, prepared to take the leap into a new life. Maka took after her mother in a lot of ways, or so everyone always said. She saw her mama as fearless, strong, and powerful. After the divorce with papa, she watched as her mother grew a thick skin, letting nobody in, keeping herself safe. If Maka could choose to be like anyone, she would choose to be her mother.
Maka flew away from her small home with a soft hand pressed to the window, the cold condensation spreading onto the glass, obstructing her view. She gave a solemn goodbye to the town that raised her, Mama never looked back.
The day she arrived back, she was no longer afraid. The hand that guided her’s was gone now, she walked through the airport with a feigned confidence, ready to take on her life with gusto. Maka left her old self on those rough airplane seats. Maka was ready to fly.
She retrieved her bag from the terminal and made her way to the pickup section of the airport. The bag squeaked behind her, an entire summer shoved into a small suitcase and carry-on. She watched students leave as the plane landed, and realized that soon she would be one of them–just like Mama.
She waited near the entrance for her Father to come. She didn’t know what to expect. The last time she had seen him, he was drunk and sobbing. A pathetic mess of the man she thought she knew. He had tried to hold his daughter back, begging his ex wife to keep her with him. Maka felt no pity for him, he would never be forgiven. A small part of her hoped he wouldn’t come. In her imagination she would stand at the walkway for hours, eyes scanning left and right for his face to finally appear out of the cloud of people. Or he would come, small child in hand with a new woman hanging off his shoulder. She would have seen it coming, being replaced wouldn’t hurt as much, Mama would have been right.
Then reality sets in, no matter how upset she was with him. All she wanted was for him to come and find her, take her home. She wanted to embrace him, tell him she missed him and was glad to be back.
But when she saw that red tuft of hair walking towards her, all of her past feelings immediately rushed back to her. Leaving a putt of fiery hot rage swell in her chest.
Papa’s mouth was etched into a wide grin. The bouquet of peonies and lavender he held to his side swayed as he stepped,leaving loose petals to pepper the cement. Maka shook her head… what a waste. As soon as their eyes met, he came running at full force. He pushed through the crowd eagerly, surely stepping on a few toes in the process. Everyone around them was watching the scene unfold, and Maka couldn’t be more embarrassed now than she had ever been. She held her head low, attempting to shield her face with the long pigtails hanging from her head.
When Papa reached her he trapped her in a big hug, one impulse away from picking her up and spinning her around. He handed her the bouquet and smiled even wider, not realizing more than half of the flowers had dropped from their stems. Her hands remained tightly held to her hips. The last thing Maka wanted to do was return his embrace.
“Hi Maka, sweetheart! Welcome Back.” He exclaimed, staring right back into his daughter’s eyes.
Maka refused to meet his gaze, grabbing the handle of her luggage and bracing herself to walk into the street. She turned back, only for a minute to ask “Where’s the car parked?”
Papa’s face fell, but nevertheless he took Maka’s bag into his hands and led the way into the street. He pointed to the small red car parked at the back of the lot, “It’s right over here, angel .”
Things hadn’t changed one bit, this was the car they had been driving since she was small. She could almost still feel the booster seat underneath her, eyelids heavy, and her parents conversing and singing along to the radio. She remembered their first road trip and everything in between. Every stop was magical.
As Maka got into the front seat, her Papa loaded all of her belongings into the trunk of the car. Maka buckled her seatbelt and peered her head out the window. Her resolve was slipping, but the last thing she wanted was to have to engage with him in conversation. She was hoping that by doing that she could avoid the questions. All she had to do was sacrifice a couple days with him at the most. Then she could move into the dorms in peace.
Papa took his seat at the wheel with the same enthusiasm he always had, humming a tune as he twisted the key into the ignition. The old engine sputtered awake after a few attempts, and with a crank of the gearshift he backed out of the parking space. Papa turned his head occasionally, hoping his daughter would ask how he’s been or what has changed, but instead she held her gaze out the window, watching as the red desert hills rolled past.
Papa held his eyes to the bumpy road ahead, keeping his hands taut like leather on the steering wheel as the car drove over potholes. His eyes glanced back to Maka for a moment before asking, “So…How was your summer in Japan with Mama?”
Maka breathed in a heavy sigh, keeping her head soldered to the window. “Good,” She answered noncommittally.
“Nice.” He drove with a pause for a little while longer, thinking about what could dredge out a more detailed answer from his daughter. “Did you guys do anything fun?”
Maka leaned her head onto the car door, closing her eyes in hope that sleep would bless her with a sweet release of having to have further conversation with her father. “Yeah.” she answered, short and sweet.
Frustrated that he was unable to get an answer out of his daughter, he tried the last thing that he thought might be able to work. “Are you excited for school?” he prodded,”I’m sure your first year will be exciting, I know mine was.”
Maka thought about that one for a moment. School had always been exciting for her. Learning was one of her favorite things to do. She loved the thrill of finally figuring out a problem, or getting to use a new word in a sentence with someone. But this was completely new to her. She had grown up with the tales of her Mama and Papa, how she had cultivated Death’s personal weapon, making her one of the best technicians to ever roam the halls of the school. Maka knew that she would be overshadowed by their memory constantly being reminded of their accomplishments.
On the one hand she felt ready to take it on, striving to be better than them in some ways. She knew what to expect. Go to school, find someone you can be compatible with, and learn how to wield them. But many doubts hung in her head, would it really be that easy?
She would be waging a war with fate. What if she was never meant to find a weapon in the first place? She has always been the best in every situation she would find herself in, what if she ends up being the only person alone. Maka knows she’s hard to work with, and being alone has always benefited her, until now the only thing she needed to be was alone. What if it doesn't work out the way she expects?
Not a word was said to her father, she swallowed a deep breath and held her head even tighter into the door. “Yep,” she said to Papa, hoping he wouldn’t catch onto the fear stuck in her throat.
Papa stomached a sigh, scratching his head while he drove. “So you don’t wanna talk to me, is that right?”
Maka held her words, playing with the ends of her shirt while she debated saying anything at all. She made a small glance at her father before looking back out into the horizon.
“Look, I know a lot happened before you left.” His voice was soaked in regret, “But I just want you to know that it wasn’t your fault.”
Maka couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at that. “Right, it’s yours.” She wanted to say, but the words never left her throat. She didn’t know if he had heard the noise she made, but a sadistic part of her hoped that she did, if not just to get a little bit of justice.
But the air remained silent, and the car rolled forward into the Nevadan cliffs.. As Maka stared at the laughing sun illuminating death city from behind, she felt herself melting into the sky, wishing that she could be up there at this moment.
When they arrived back at the apartment, she felt a sense of nostalgia tug at her insides. She had driven past all of her favorite spots, no matter how long she had been away from home, she always would remember the way back to it.
Together they removed Maka’s things from the luggage and carried it to the front door. Papa tugged the silver keys from his pocket, and Maka saw the little picture, dangling from the chain. It was a picture of her and her mother, smiling as they had their backs facing a beach. She remembered that trip well, it was one of the only times before the divorce she had truly felt like a family. Papa and Mama argued the whole way there, and yet, sitting underneath the sun and feeling the sand beneath their feet had calmed everything, it seemed to make time move slower than it actually was.
When Papa had opened the door, Maka was relieved to find everything exactly how she left it. Every picture frame was still in its right place, the fruit bowl sitting on the coffee table still had every apple in it, it was almost like she had never left at all. But despite all of this, the apartment still felt empty somehow. She had grown up here, and had so many memories. The only constant factor was missing now.
Papa led Maka to her bedroom, even though her feet had led her there all on her own. He placed the luggage at the foot of her door frame, and turned the handle.
“Okay…” He let out like a heavy burden, “I haven’t touched a thing, feel free to get settled in while I get started on dinner, kiddo.” He patted her back, waiting for a reaction, anything he could say.
Maka pressed her lips up at him, a feigned smile. “Okay.” she breathed out, “I’ll get unpacked.”
Papa nodded his head back at her and left her to her own devices. Maka hesitated as she stepped past the confines of the foot of the door. Her father was right, nothing had changed. Every poster was still hanging up on her walls, not a book had been touched, save for the ones she took from herself and brought with her to Japan. Her bed was made, just as neat and tidy as she left it.
Her eyes immediately fell to her desk, a brochure for the DWMA was sitting right on top of it. That’s right, that’s what she was here for. She had to stop herself from almost laughing. Maka would only get to sleep in her bed again for about three nights. Rather than unpacking her entire summer, She would be packing her entire life into boxes to bring back to the school with her. She would have to share everything with her partner. They would have to see every skeleton she brings with her, and that’s what was scary
She opened up her luggage and pulled out a scrapbook from the summer with her mom. She sat on her bed and opened it up, eyes falling on the first picture. It was taken on the first day they had arrived. It was the first time Maka had ever seen her maternal grandparents. They had all sat down to eat dinner together, and Maka's eyes were raw from crying. She was happy for the experience, but couldn’t shake the feeling that she was there for the wrong reasons.
Her eyes then fell to the next picture, one taken a couple weeks later. In this one her and mama had gone out on the town, traveling the streets and exploring the depths of her Mama’s hometown. Her mother had told her all about the adventures she had here, and about how she had dreamed of leaving all her life to make something of herself.
In some ways Maka felt the same. It was ironic though, where Mama had found an escape, Maka had found a prison.
Tears pricked Maka’s eyes as she realized it was all gone now. Her “happy family” had eroded little by little right before her eyes. The joyful childhood that she once lived had slipped by her, leaving everything broken on the ground for her to have to piece together all by herself. She couldn’t let the tears fall, however. She had to be strong, just like Mama has told her all her life. She had to pick herself up, and keep moving forward towards the dream that she wants to achieve. Then, and only then would she be able to finally live the dream that she had imagined for herself all these years. This time, she refused to let a single person hold her back from her fate. Her fate to make the most powerful Death Scythe this world has ever laid its eyes on.
She removed the picture from its clear foil and placed it on her desk. At least here she could look at it until it was time to leave. A reminder that she would someday make her own life, and make sure not to make the same mistakes her Mama did.
With a thump, Maka landed into her computer chair and typed in her password like it was second nature. A couple clacks of the keyboard opened up her email, and she typed in Mama’s.
Hello mama,
I landed back in Death City a few hours ago. It’s exactly like I remember it. Hope you’re doing well. I miss you already.
Love, Maka.
The moment she clicked the send button, a gravelly voice bounced through the walls. “Sweetheart, dinner’s ready!” Pushing her chair out, she relieved a heavy sigh and slothed out of her bedroom.
She made it to the kitchen, jet lagged, famished, and ready to devour anything in her sight. Even the memory of her Father’s infamously terrible cooking wouldn’t keep her stomach from roaring beneath her.
On the table sat a blindingly orange, square box, which she recognized to be from the pizza place down the street. It had been months since she had felt the American stapled taste of cheese and watered down sauce in her mouth, and even though her mind reprimanded her for craving a real meal, she would eat anything placed in front of her.
Papa lifted the top open, the scent wasping through the air. Maka hardly waited for an initiation before she snatched one of the flimsy paper plates gifted from the shop and strung a heavy slice into her mouth. Bad manners, she knew, but Papa didn’t seem to care. He was too busy dazing in awe as his daughter reclaimed her habitat.
Moving onto the next slice gave Maka a little more patience, she had now placed it onto her plate and sat down at the table, nodding as she chewed the final pieces of her previous one. “Thank you Papa,” she swallowed, nodding her head as it traveled down her esophagus, “But, I thought getting ‘started on dinner’ meant that you’d put in a little bit of work, y’know, making it.”
Papa smiled, disregarding the snark she had given him, at least she was talking to him again. “Well,” he tossed a third slice onto his plate, “I don’t see you complaining.” Papa mouth widened, launching himself towards another bite, “Plus I thought it’d be a welcome change, I wasn’t sure how much pizza there was in Japan.” He hummed, mouth pasted with crust and cheese.
Maka swung her head away from the scene, “Papa!” She reprimanded. “Stop talking with your mouth full. It’s disgusting!” As much as she wanted to take another bite, the thought of putting more food in her mouth made her stomach lurch.
“Sorry, sweetheart!” He swiped a napkin and shielded his mouth. “I forgot how you are about that.”
Maka’s eyes rolled, “It’s just bad manners, Papa.”
The air in the room fell stiff, the silence causing another rift between them. A familiar presence was missing from the tense air. Maka would gaze to the empty chair, expecting to find her Mama on the other side. But she wasn’t there, and she would never be there ever again.
Folding her plate over the unfinished slices, Maka removed herself from her seat and tossed all of her leftovers into the trash, overflowing with garbage, Papa probably hadn’t taken it out in days.
“Goodnight,” She pathetically excused herself, hoping that would be enough to quench her father’s emotional thirst. Her feet stumbled behind her as she dragged herself to her room. Not knowing if it was just the jet lag, or being so emotionally tired that she couldn’t bear to keep her eyes open.
She hadn’t even deigned to change her clothes, or pull back the sheets before collapsing face down into the covers, bed shrieking at her weight.
Had nothing ever changed, on an old night like this, Maka would have found herself deep in the words of a book, hunched over the pages with a flashlight in her hand. But nothing was the same anymore. All of her books were packed into boxes, the night was still young.
As Maka floated asleep, she wished for the comfort that only familiarity could bring.
The sun dozed light in the sky, broiling Maka’s exposed back as daybreak welcomed her home.
She twisted herself deeper into the sheets, hoping that covering herself would lull her back into slumber. She laid still for about three minutes, until it became unbearable to wait it out.
She groaned as she tumbled out of bed, stretched her arms, and waited out the lightheaded feeling of blood rushing to her skull. She slugged her way to the door, feet lagging behind her as she made her way to the bedroom door.
Before she was able to leave, she gazed at her clock strung up on her wall. She had slept until noon, wasting the early hours of the morning deep in her own coma.
Maka broke through the door with a sense of urgency, even though she didn’t have anything planned for today. It gave her a sinking feeling, knowing that in only seventy two more hours she’d be starting the first step to the rest of her life, and she was wasting her last hours of freedom deep in her own head.
She couldn’t even bother to change her own clothes before she found the bathroom, freshening up and leaving the apartment without alerting Papa of any disturbances. She whisped through the house as gently as possible, leading the door open with the lightest touch.
Once Maka was free and roaming the familiar streets, she knew exactly where her feet would take her.
It was Mid-day, so she assumed Black*Star would be home, probably still buried under his own covers, and without her interruption, would likely stay that way for the next few hours.
Maka Let her legs guide her down the roads she had traveled all her life, as she reminisced on all the memories she had. It was like a road map in her head, pressing all the right switches as she passed by all the places that made home, home.
She arrived to the last street on the corner. Willow. The road that seems so long sometimes she believes it capable of stretching on forever. It only takes about 20 minutes to walk, but time stands still here. When she thinks she’s made it to the end she sees the neon-blue sign of the barber shop and realizes there’s still halfway to go.
When she reached Black*Star’s place, she rapped three hard knocks onto the door. She perched, shifting her eyes around the porch while she waited patiently for someone to answer. When nobody greeted her, she contemplated turning back around, and spending her last days alone. But then Naigus opened the door, a steaming cup of fresh coffee in her right hand, with her left on the handle.
She grinned, her pearly white smile ever familiar at this moment. “Hi Maka! Welcome back, it’s nice to see you again.” After taking a satisfying gulp from her drink, she placed the sweating cup onto the table next to her. “Are you here to see Black*Star?”
“Yeah!” Maka beamed, matching Naigus’s soft grin with one of her own. She peered into the house, wondering if she'd see him roaming around its contents. “Is he home?”
“He sure is,” Naigus craned her head backwards into her kitchen, careening back to Maka once more, “I’ll go get him for you, wait just a moment.”
Naigusleft just a crack between the door and the frame, giving Maka a small window to secretly peer through. She winked, holding her breath and leaning into the space to see what was going on inside. Her heart fluttered in her chest, even though she knew she wasn’t doing anything wrong, the thought of being caught spying startled her. Maka jolted back when she heard the soft thump of footsteps hit the ground. After only a few seconds, the door creaked open once more to reveal a taller version of the boy she knew, blue hair peeking out at the top.
“Hey Maka!” Black*Star smiled, peered back at Naigus, and then closed the door behind him. He started the stride off of his porch, letting Maka follow behind him. “How longv’e you been back?”
“I just came back yesterday…” Maka gazed back at her best friend in awe, taking in every detail that changed in just the few short months since they last saw each other. When she had left, he was a sort of puny thing, spindly arms and legs with the shrill voice of a boy. Those features had grown into something more mature. Heat gathered at the tips of her ears as she tried to hide a blush. She didn’t like thinking about her friend like that, not at all, but she couldn’t quite control it.
Mama told her she’d be getting thoughts like that soon. That all the little boys she had grown up around would start to grow up too. The thought made Maka’s stomach slip. Yuck. Mama had also told her shortly after that they would only become a distraction, and to stay away from them–She’d have no problem doing that. “Man… you had quite the growth spurt huh?” She goaded, hoping to take the edge off her own mind.
“Of course.” He pointed to himself, ever the narcissist as always. “I have to be the biggest man on campus if I’m going to surpass God.”
“Excuse me?” Maka caught up to him and turned her back towards their destination, taking the lead, “What do you mean ‘surpass God?’”
“Oh yeah,” He cackled, “I decided on it a couple weeks ago. Seems fitting for someone like me huh?” His fist pummeled into her shoulder, another laugh escaping his mouth.
“You wish.” She dug her elbow into the side of his ribcage. “How are you supposed to surpass God when you don’t even know long division?”
“Nah Maka,” He shook his head, a detached gaze on his face. “I got everything I need right here.” He flexed his biceps, looking at each one before letting out a hearty laugh. Maka rolled her eyes, one day she hoped he would hear the way he sounds to other people.
Maka and Black*Star meandered together, side by side until they made it to Grave memorial park, their designated hangout spot for as long as she could remember.
She always thought that maybe one day she’d be able to outgrow it, but she always found her body betraying her, making her way back anyways.
Shibusen would open up a world of possibilities for her, she hoped that it would be her safe haven. But still, just like all things unfamiliar, she knew to anticipate the worst. How could Black*Star be so confident?
They sat on the swings, graceful taps rocking them back and forth. “You aren't nervous?” Maka kept the momentum while Black*Star continued to propel himself forward, meeting her eyes and then flying behind her. “At all?” She asked.
“Nope.” He whooshed, voice tremoloing “Why would I be? I know exactly how it’s gonna go.”
Maka held her gaze down to the ground, watching it cradle beneath her.
“Well,” She kicked her feet, air gliding passed her legs, “At least that makes one of us.”