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“If I could have your attention, please...” The chattering of students was generally an unstoppable force, matched only by the immovable object of a teacher’s insistence on silence. Sure enough, even in the lecture hall full of young technicians, silence fell in a few seconds. “Thank you,” said Liz Thompson. “This is important.
“You are all wondering why you were split up by vocation, with all technicians in one class and all weapons in the other. I’m sure you all remember that shortly after Professor Rung went on his mission, a student survey was distributed, asking which guest speakers you would most like to have invited here in his absence. Well, since he isn’t back yet, we have invited the highest-voted guests to come speak to you.” Liz smiled. “As your guest speaker is a particular friend of mine, I’d like to give her a little introduction.
“When I met her, she was bookish, mousy, and seemed generally average despite her impressive pedigree; back then, I didn’t realize what a strong soul was when I saw one. As we grew together, though, her accolades began to stack up; two-star technician, top of the class, first to manage Soul Resonance, creator of the Last Death Scythe, and, finally, victor against Kishin Asura.” As Liz listed off the achievements, a buzz of excited chatter broke out, but Liz held up a hand again for silence. “Of course, she never did it alone . That’s what made her special. Not muscles, not powers; just a genuine soul that brought people together. So, without further ado: Maka Albarn.” The door to the lecture hall opened, and the students got their first view of the legend as they applauded.
She was dressed casually, in boots wrapped in white tape, jeans, a simple blouse, and a black trench coat, and still projected a sense of security and calm that was not at all defused by the warm hug she shared with Liz before the latter sat down at the desk. Maka look at the students quietly while she waited on them to die down. She’d aged well, her mother’s Japanese blood doing her any number of favors; even in her thirties, she was still as slim and youthful as ever. When at last the applause faded to a few enthusiastic claps, she began to speak.
“So, you’re the new generation, huh? Your souls look good. I’m impressed.” Maka’s eyes swept across the seats. “But you’re only half. Liz made it sound like I did all that amazing stuff, but in truth, the real wonder isn’t me; it’s the partnership shared by my Soul and I. So I wanted to talk to you today about choosing your first partners, and developing those partnerships.” She paused, and the sound of air conditioning and scribbles in notebooks. Maka smiled, remembering her own times as a studious young woman.
“First things first, I’ll tell you what to forget. Forget weapon preferences.
“You might think that staves are lame weapons. Maybe you think unconventional weapons, like mirrors, guillotines, and chainsaws are unwieldy and would take too much work. But that’s the absolute wrong approach! Technician-weapon partnerships have everything to do with the soul bond, not your personal weapon preferences. If you think you’re going to get a flaming god sword as a partner and it’ll work out just because you like their weapon form, well.. It’s not that easy. Even the weapon you view as ideal will take months of effort, so start with the fundamentals. Start with the soul.” Maka took a moment to breathe and let the students write, and took the time to scan the students again.
“Liz, could you come here?” Liz stood up and came around to Maka. “Take weapon form, please.” The students’ murmurs grew and increased in volume. “Not to worry. No one’s going to be harmed in this little demonstration.” Liz’s body fragmented into black squares, infinitely thin, that joined back together in the shape of a sleek pistol, which Maka caught from the air in one hand. Maka exhaled very slowly.
Without warning, she raised the Death Eagle and fired—a light blue bullet flew from the end and struck a girl in the middle left seats in the middle of the forehead. Miraculously, she seemed unharmed.
“Someone, please, tell me what just happened,” said Maka, twirling Liz around her finger and blowing nonexistent smoke away from the tip. Several hands shot into an air, and Maka picked one at random. “You.”
“Your wavelength matched hers.” Maka clapped a few times.
“Right! Matching soul wavelengths won’t do anything to each other. Which leads me to my next piece of advice: soul resonance is not about finding someone like you. As Soul would say, playing the same note on two pianos makes a boring song. Soul resonance is about two disparate wavelengths coming together; varying within, but playing an entirely new song together. Strong resonance is about uniting different people. Don’t settle for a partner that’s exactly like you. Now, thank Ms. Thompson for assisting that demonstration.” The students applauded Liz as she transitioned back into her human form and went back to her desk.
“You might be thinking something like ‘Well, that’s easy for her to say.’” She paused to let the students giggle. “And you might think I have the perfect partner. But honestly, we fight all the time. Soul leaves his socks on the floor, sleeps on the couch sometimes, leaves the TV on all night. He drives me crazy! And your partner could easily do the same to you. A good partnership isn’t about getting it perfect all the time. It’s about being willing to support each other when it’s important. Any questions?” She selected a hand from the sea.
“Have you and Soul ever kissed?”
“Next question,” said Maka, not missing a beat. “You.”
“What was it like to go behind the legacy of a famous pairing like Spirit and your mom?” Maka paused to consider it.
“Electrifying,” she said. “Some of you in this room understand the rush of competing with something many times bigger than yourself. Every time I made progress, I knew I was one step closer to surpassing my parents. And I’d like to think I made it.”
“Alright, kids,” said Soul. A gaggle of teenagers stood around the piano he was seated at. He raised the cover and placed his hands gently on the keys. “Listen up.” He began to play a song, but halfway through it became clear that he was completely improvising, switching tempos and keys at will. He finished on a huge note that he extended with the sustain pedal for no apparent reason beyond atmosphere. “I think that’s really all that needs to be said. Have a good one.” He got up, grabbed his coat, and left the room.