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«Mr and Mrs Evans?»
«He is Mr Evans, I am Miss Albarn. Some problems with this?»
More than a sentence uttered by a human being, to the ears of those present what they had just heard seemed more like an angry growl, but considering the situation, no one took it too much.
However, rather than really angry, the voice was suffering. And rightly so.
«Very well, Miss Albarn, I’m midwife Sylvia Jones. I will be Dr. Stein's assistant, I know you insisted that he deliver your child.»
«In fact, where the hell is he right now? Soul, do something!»
«Maka, if you would stop squeezing my hand, I could go and call him...»
From that moment on, no one could clearly distinguish what the two were saying to each other, but the midwife continued to cast them curious glances.
They were an odd couple, she reflected. And they were really young, she didn't even give them twenty years old.
The girl who answered to the name of Maka had long blond hair with bangs curled by the sweat dripping from her forehead, pale skin perhaps with pain and bright green eyes, which at that moment were glaring at the boy beside her.
His appearance was a bit creepy, with that messed up white hair and fiery red eyes, but the gentle way he was supporting the girl instantly overshadowed a first impact that was almost never positive. It seemed like he was always on the verge of leaping at your throat with those sharp teeth of his, but in reality he was infinitely patient and kind.
The other nurse, Janette O'Connor, a hospital veteran and a close friend, had told her that Maka Albarn had been rushed in that same morning, at least a week early due to her pregnancy. She had screeched like an eagle when some doctors had tried to remove her hand from the boy's grip, someone even rumored that she had pulled out of nowhere some book to throw at the head of anyone who approached the boy; in the meantime he had grinned silently, limiting himself to shake her hand to reassure her and enduring her outbursts with stoic calm.
At first glance they would have seemed more like two friends than a couple about to have their first child, yet the facts spoke clearly.
Sylvia found the way the girl had answered her strange when she asked about Mr. and Mrs Evans, but she had no right to judge, so…
But did she have the right to laugh? While she was preparing what was needed for the birth, the couple had continued to talk, she with screams and curses, he with handshakes and perfidious grins that hid tender smiles.
They seemed really ill-matched as parents, and she was so amused to watch that, involuntarily, a laugh left her lips against her will.
No one heard her, but she thought that should be better get back to work if she wanted to avoid getting one of those terrible blows from an extremely nervous almost-mom.
A blow like the one the boy suffered: «Makaaaaaaaaaaa-chop!»
«Where the hell has Professor Stein gone?»
Maka was really sick of screaming, yet every time she opened her mouth her tone rose by itself. By now the contractions made her see stars every five minutes, yet her doctor and professor refused to be seen. As if all this weren't enough to make her coronaries blow out in her anger, the buxom brunette in the nurse's uniform ventured to ask if they were Mr. and Mrs. Evans.
And what was Soul doing? He laughed! She was suffering the pains of hell with their son kicking like a demon to get out to see the world and he…
Ah, but as soon as she gave birth she would make him pay for them all, and all together…
«Damn it Soul, don't just stand there with that smirk on your face! You have no idea how much I want to punch you!»
«You already hit me on the head with that heavy book, isn't that enough for you?»
«I don't think so, do you have any idea how I feel? I'm about to take your son out of...»
«Ok, enough Maka, now calm down. These speeches are really uncool.»
She started to Maka-chop him again, but the umpteenth contraction robbed her of the energy to do it, making her grind her teeth with a cry of exasperation.
If Stein hadn't shown up at the door right now, she would have sent the law and morals to hell and made her son fatherless. What the hell, it was all his fault!
His, of his damned seductive smiles and of his eyes that made her melt and burn at the same time, but above all of his soul that for hours continued undeterred to reassure hers, transmitting all the serenity he could through the waves that she perceived leaving from his heart.
The funniest part was the fact that, underneath the "cool" exterior he struggled to maintain in front of her, he was, deep down, just as terrified of parenthood as she was.
That fear of him paradoxically calmed her down more than anything else, because if there was something their battles had taught her, it was that to beat fear you needed courage, and that certainly wasn't lacking in either of them.
*****
Soul had loved his Weapons Mistress from the first moment, but he hadn't realized it right away. It had never been in his nature to reflect too much on his feelings, cool guys didn't do that, he had always preferred to observe others rather than psychoanalyze himself.
But when they'd fought the Kishin Asura, when the sky had turned blue again and he'd seen Maka standing, victorious, taller than all of them with her fist clenched around her mother's postcard…
That wasn't the moment he fell in love, but he was pretty sure it was the moment he understood and accepted the existence of that feeling. He had seen her triumphant smile light up her face, the wind moving her hair gathered in those funny pigtails that he enjoyed pulling. And when the sun was reflected in the jades of her eyes, making them shine with that courage that moved her every step and that he admired so much…
Well, the rest was history.
A blow to the heart, the wounds that had stopped hurting for a moment, the victorious screams of their friends to crown that feeling. And above all, the vision of her coming up to him, putting his arm around her shoulders and helping him walk to the school infirmary.
The months that followed had been spent traveling the world, tending to the last cells of Arachnophobia and fixing the residual glimmers of madness.
She had taken the first kiss from him: one evening, after a mission like many others, they had returned home and she had wished him a hasty goodnight with a stamped kiss, a fraction of contact between them that had switched off his brain for several minutes. Then Maka ran off to her room, yelling something that had to do with male dullness.
When he had decided to come out of his phase of immobility he had rushed up the stairs, had thrown open the bedroom door and had pounced on her lips. He had then let himself be guided by the fire that flowed in his blood, by the seductive voice of his Maka which had led him towards the sweetest of oblivion, by passion and tenderness, by complicity and respect.
Perhaps it was destiny that they should fall in love, but that was only part of their relationship, only the last step they had taken together. It was exhilarating and wonderful and beautiful, but neither of them would have accepted it without what they had previously, because love alone would never have been enough to keep them together.
There was a whole world behind their bond, the chain that held them together had been forged ring by ring, day after day another ring had joined and then another one, between the battlefields where they had learned to trust and daily routine, thanks to which they had taken root. Affection and friendship had come as a result, between the wounds they had suffered and the care they had offered each other. Love had been the final ring: beautiful and overwhelming and inevitable, but not essential… and certainly not expected. Yet that last piece had closed the chain that held them together, so perhaps it had become indispensable.
Both of them had been happy about it, even if things between them weren't and would never be easy, but the quarrels were also a ring in the chain and neither of them would ever give it up: it was their way of taking care of each other, to tell the other that they loved each other without using those exact words. As long as they argued, it meant that what they had was worth it, that it deserved screams and books on the head and teasing as well as laughter and tenderness. As long as they quarreled, they could feel each other's presence, the mate's soul reaching out to the other’s ardently, passionately, perhaps too forcefully, but with an undeniable longing that denoted a loyal and sincere attachment, an affection that crossed the boundaries of friendship.
They would always fight for what they loved and because they loved each other they fought each other, and that was okay.
They had lived five years as a couple, five years filled with music and Maka-chop, laughter and adventure, screams and smiles, kisses and fights.
They had never talked too much about the future, it was enough for them to live together in the apartment they had shared since they were teenagers and they had chosen each other as Master and Weapon; they had discussed the jobs they would carry out and planned new trips around the world, but the subject of "children" had never been touched.
Not until they found out Maka was pregnant, which almost killed him. He had been very uncool, but when his girlfriend found out about the baby had chased him for a long time with a huge dictionary in her hands and one of her most furious expressions on her face.
After four bumps and a long series of educated curses - of which he, among other things, had not understood half a word due to a ferocious headache - she had given herself a panic attack, falling into his arms. He had grabbed her on the fly, fearing she would get hurt, but while he caressed her hair trying to calm down her nervousness... he had finally allowed himself to elaborate the novelty for which he had almost lost his life.
He and Maka would have a son.
He was scared, that child hadn't been intentionally sought out, they were young, they had bad parental examples, they traveled the world always looking for a new battle... For the High Shinigami, they had never even said "I love you " and she was pregnant!
That night they huddled together under the same blanket, Soul leaned against a tree holding his girlfriend in his arms to make her sleep comfortably despite the bare earth beneath them, and he thought deeply.
They were young, but they had all their lives to learn; their parents had been awful on many levels to them, but they had proven over and over again that they were different from them, that they could manage to be better; they would not have stopped fighting, they would have been forever a Master and her Weapon, but there were souls to be harvested even in Death City, where their friends and their apartment awaited them, but above all a life in which they could reconcile their lifestyle with the arrival of a baby.
Had they never confessed their feelings? Since when was it so necessary to talk? Every time Maka held him in scythe form he felt what she felt. Every time his girlfriend looked at him with those beautiful eyes of hers, so special as to see beyond the appearances, she could clearly see what his soul felt for her.
Despite her intelligence and the amount of books she read, she wasn't all that good with words, especially if they concerned the intimacy of her thoughts. On the other hand, he was at times disinclined to explicit declarations of intent, he found them useless, the words could be so false!
But even if they didn't say it clearly, the feeling was there and it was real.
If that was the premise, then Soul was certain they could do it.
He had spent the following nine months taking care of her, he had been really cool to bear all the mood swings of a Maka who was already normally dangerous, but with the hormonal changes of pregnancy was lethal.
He had covered himself with bruises, but as her belly grew, so did his joy and with it his eagerness to meet their child. Maka told him everything the little one did: sometimes out of fear of having done something wrong for the simple fact of feeling him fidget, others out of the emotion of feeling him sleep while listening her voice reading some books of fairy tales.
He too had panicked several times, but over time they had gotten to know and understand the baby: for example, they knew the hours in which he slept and what he didn't like for Maka to eat, because despite the period of nausea was already finished he kept complaining every time his mom swallowed something too spicy, making her feel sick for hours. Or they knew that he dozed off with Maka's sweet voice telling him fairy tales, and that he calmed down when Soul played some simple lullaby on the piano.
These and other little things had accompanied them until that day, when Maka woke up with excruciating pain and woke him up too with a deafening scream.
That child who was about to be born had already made them fall madly in love with him, and they could finally get to know him. They were both impatient and scared, but they were so happy for this new life that was about to come into the world!
Just when they'd been certain they'd be enough for each other forever they'd discovered that they weren't, that they could be more than a couple…
They were becoming a family. That was the last ring in the chain, the strongest, the one that really would have kept them together forever.
*****
Soul re-emerged from the depths of his thoughts when he heard the door open: a man with gray hair and a screw stuck crosswise in his head entered. Huge round glasses and a patched white coat completed his unique look.
Maka squeezed his hand tightly to communicate beyond the tiredness, but he already knew what she meant to say. He bladed his free arm and cut their former professor's cigarette in half, glaring at him.
In short, he showed up late and even smoked in a nursery with his woman who was about to give birth!
«Nice welcome. So Maka, how are you?»
«In your opinion? But where the hell were you? I'm about to give birth here!»
«Really? Congratulations.»
Soul told himself that this situation was really uncool, and that if Stein hadn't decided to take care of his girlfriend, she would have makachopped him to death.
For a moment Maka's green eyes glared at the professor; Soul was able to perceive the intensity of her anger thanks to the harmony of their souls, that synchronization they had reached after years of battles always next to each other.
He gave her a caress on the forehead, pushing away the sweaty strands away from her face, repeating her for the umpteenth time to be patient and that it would soon be over.
It had been both of them's idea to have someone they blindly trust with them during the birth, but seeing how things were going Soul wondered if they had made a wise choice. Of course, despite his unfortunate jokes on vivisection, they knew that he would never do something bad to them, not now that he was happily married to Professor Marie, who kept him firmly in line.
«By the way, where the hell were you?»
«I had to shake off your father Spirit, he wanted to come and to attend the birth of his nephew, but mindful of your instructions I kept him in the dark about the date. It seems that he was watching me though, because I struggled a bit to throw him off.»
Maka let out an exasperated cry, but didn't comment further. Although the relationship between father and daughter had relaxed a bit over the years, this did not mean that they had a real relationship. And not because her father didn't try, at least he had to be acknowledged for that.
A contraction more painful than the others tore up Soul from his considerations through the powerful squeeze of the almost-mom. At the very least, he'd have bruises in the shape of her fingers, but that was the least of his thoughts right now. His son was about to be born and his Maka needed his support.
Nothing else mattered.
Maka was exhausted, but she was sure it was worth it.
In her arms she held the perfect synthesis of her and Soul: she saw her green eyes combined with a tuft of white hair, her button nose with Soul's protruding ears.
When grown up, he would have taken possession of those traits making them his own, yet at that moment all she could see in her son was the perfect harmony she had created together with Soul.
His soul was small and pure, bright as only newborns can be. It would take a few years for him to take on his own features.
She loved her son with all her soul, and from the tears her boyfriend hid on her neck, she knew she wasn't the only one.
«Maka... Did you see what a miracle we created?»
«Yes, Soul... We were good.»
They exchanged an excited kiss, while the boy began to shake his clenched fists trying to get their attention.
When he burst into offended tears they separated, suppressing tears of emotion between laughter.
They had left them alone for a while to enjoy their son, but the doctors would soon be back for routine tests.
How was she going to leave him in other arms? How could she let other hands protect him, not hers or Soul’s?
Only the thought distressed her, so she expressed it to Soul.
«If I don't even want doctors to pick him up, how am I going to let him go? I can't even imagine the thought of not holding him.»
«It's because you've just given birth, you're still full of those hormones you tormented me with for nine months...»
«Soul! Do not joke!»
«And who is kidding you, it's true! You will see that it won't last long, just enough for you to be healed. But something tells me that you will be one of those overprotective mothers, and that our son will come to me begging me to leave him free for a little while...»
She pouted, slightly offended by his insinuations, but intimately knew that he was right.
She looked at the boy she loved, aware that her feelings for him might have changed over the years, but that she would always love him with the same intensity.
It was a certainty that had blossomed spontaneously, like the first spring flower that breaks through the snow barrier to herald the end of winter, just as strong.
She would not have accepted an eternal bond like a son with anyone else but Soul, she would never have trusted so much in anyone other than him. Because she hated men, but not her Soul.
Nor would her son, she would have loved and protected and raised him.
And one day she would look over her shoulder, looking at the lonely little girl she had been with the desire to reassure her that in the end everything would be fine, that she would learn to trust and to love.
Not without fear, that was part of the package, but precisely because she knew what it was like to be afraid she would never give up.
Because she knew fear, but possessed the courage to defeat it and the proof now rested in the arms of the one who had allowed her to grow, become strong enough to trust and brave enough to love.
«How do we call it?»
The red eyes, burning with passion, blazing with love of her companion had rested on hers, making the desire to have them on her every second of their lives arise in her heart.
Beyond the arrogance with which he protected himself from the world, Maka could see in those eyes each of the scars that scarred the boy's soul, every single wound that over time she had caressed and soothed between the kisses and caresses she had dedicated to him, but she knew they would never completely disappear. Despite all of her love and the family they had just become, they would never disappear, some would perhaps bleed forever.
But not always, not all the times, not at that time.
She would have taken care of his wounds every day of their lives, because she wanted Soul's eyes to always look at her as in that perfect moment when everything was silent in an oasis of peace.
As if she were his anchor, the reason why he was happy and the one in whose arms he could rest and let his guard down. Embraced to Maka, he knew that she would take care of his wounds, seal them and stop the bleeding.
Maka just wanted him to look at her as his personal miracle forever.
«Kiseki. His name is Kiseki Albarn Eater Evans.»
«Do we really have to give him all these last names?»
«You complain too much! It's you who has two last names, it's not my fault.»
«All right, then he will just be called Albarn Eater. Not Evans, I don't want to give him all the weight of that family when he's so young.»
«All right. Maybe when he's grown up.»
«We'll think about it when the time comes. For now, let's enjoy our son.»
«Okay. Sit here, I want to hold him but I still can't get up.»
He did as requested, slipping their child into her arms before enveloping them both in his embrace.
«You didn't tell me if it's okay for you to call him Kiseki.»
«I could not have chosen a more suitable name.»
«Really?»
«Yes, because it was just a miracle that something so beautiful came out of the two of us.»
«Should I feel offended?»
«Maka, don't be so irritable, it's not cool. But since he was born of two people... let's say not exactly immaculate like us, he who is so pure is truly a miracle. We have both given ourselves over to madness, we have reaped souls and inflicted wounds, we are certainly not perfect... But it’s enough look at him to see that he is our chance to do something good. So yes, Kiseki is the right name for our son.»
«I agree.» she gave him a kiss full of love, moved by the words she had just heard him say and being in complete agreement with him.
She was really tired, so she settled her baby better in her arms and rested her head on her partner's chest, dozing off slightly.
What he said to her later, as he kissed her forehead, took on the faded contours of a dream, one you don't know whether to classify as a memory or an unconscious wish.
«You always told me you don't believe in marriage, because it's not a piece of paper that creates a family, but in reality it was because you saw your parents' divorce and that's why you stopped having faith; we are not married, yet today is the first day for us as a family. Instead, I told you that I didn't want children, because I was too afraid; yet look at me now, as I hold you and Kiseki while you sleep. If I've overcome my fears, I don't see why you shouldn't too. You don't know it yet, but soon you'll say “yes” to me and you'll have all your life to convince yourself that my “yes” will be forever.»