SoMa One-Shots

Deadly Consequences

{This is for a writing competition, everyone! And I really want to win, so cross your fingers, people! Wish me luck!}

>~~Love doesn't always work out.~~<

"Makaaaaa! Guess what, guess what!?" I shouted, jogging through the house to deliver my 'good' news to my meister. Maka appeared in her doorway, seemingly bored. Even her exasperated expression was kind of cute.

"I've finally gotten a girlfriend!"
Maka smirks, the rest of her face going slack, expressionless, her eyes blank. My meister was amazing, really- and I'm only dating Clara to get Maka jealous, of course. I would think that it should be obvious. Devotion to my meister is my aesthetic. It seems, however, that Maka is unaffected enough to joke around about it.

"Well, finally. You're a total social butterfly, and only now you have a girlfriend?" "Hey, you're an anti-social bookworm!" Soul maintained, trying to defend his failing pride.
"Soul, you're wrong. I'm not anti-social; I'm anti-stupid." Her voice now sounded robotic, automatic, not full of life like before- empty. Vacant. I stared at her, reaching for her soul. Her soul slipped out of my grasp, but from what I could determine, it was dark red, almost black. Dark as a moonless night. Black blood in her veins was present, rushing, and activated, and I could see only slivers of natural red. I decided to report this to Lord Death in the morning after a good night's sleep.
That was my mistake.

~~THIRD PERSON~~
There was nothing left of Maka. It looked like Maka. It sounded like Maka. But it was a killing machine, red blood cells replaced with replicated black ones.

After tentatively falling asleep, Maka stepped into a new room unbidden. Black tiles lined the floor and ceiling, a piano glistening from the corner. Nothing seemed stable to her, and the once-bright red colors seemed muddy and dim compared to the previous shine. Maka recognized this as Soul's black blood room, but why was she here?
Taking a few more steps inside, she gazed toward the grand piano. It was almost all black, but it now had dark pedals and keys whose colour resembled that of gruesome pools of blood, splotchy and deformed. Everything was insubstantial, fading away...
"Glad you could join me, my long-awaited friend," a wily, amused voice came from behind her.

Soul, meanwhile, was sleeping in fits, wondering if Maka was okay. Eventually, he drifted into a restless sleep.

"Oh, no. You're Soul's demon. Or are you a devil? Devil, demon. I can't remember," Maka spouted nervously.
"Don't worry about my name, Maka. Worry about yourself," the little demon smiled while saying. And that was when Maka realized that she was sinking neck-deep in black blood, which was slowly rising. Thick, dark liquid flowed into her mouth, leaving her coughing and retching, struggling toward the surface. "There's no reason to fight, Maka. He has a girlfriend. He doesn't care for you."

Blinded by the blood, Maka let go.
And she believed the demon.

Maka's eyes shot open to check the clock on her clothes dresser. 12:21. A perfect time to hunt. The pupils of Maka's eyes dilated as her face split into a heart-wrenchingly giddy, insane grin.

>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<

"You think you're so cool, because you believe that you have Soul, don't you? I don't care anymore. I don't give a damn. And neither does he," Maka growled, smirking. Terrified, the brunette girl shrank back against the wall as Maka turned one of her fingers into a tiny scythe, running her fingers along the sides of the girl's face, slicing open the fair skin. Blood welled up on the girl's wounds, and she yelped.
"Now, now, don't make any noise. You don't want me killing your precious partner, too, now do you?" Maka purred while Clara's eyes widened, filling with tears, and she shook her head mournfully.

Maka slit her throat, blood gushing as the young girl's detatched head rolled to the floor. She took the blue, innocently glowing soul of her weapon's 'girlfriend' and swallowed it. "Next up on my list: Soul," Maka muttered to herself, licking blood off her fingertips and giggling. Maka the kishin was now preparing to kill the boy that she loved.

Maka raced back to her apartment, nothing around her registering. Her target was sleeping soundly in a joint room as she crept back onto her bed silently through her open window, black eyes glinting in the faint moonlight, her lips still stretched into that crazed smile.

"Oh, Soulllll, I used to look up to you so. Sad that we couldn't work out," Maka giggled. Soul's eyes shot open, suddenly aware of the figure on top of him. The dark Maka was straddling his midsection, sitting on his stomach. "You, know, I used to love you. But that didn't work out, did it?" In the darkness, Maka chuckled bitterly, turning her arm into a scythe, and shoved it into Soul's chest, right where his heart should be. "You know, your girlfriend was so nice. She didn't want me hurting her partner. I decapitated her. And then I killed her partner, just because she said not to," Maka giggled.

Soul gasped in pain, and hot, flowing liquid flowed up from the gaping wound. Half-blind with pain, Soul watched Maka remove the blade, turning it back into her arm, and he knew that he only had one chance. One chance to stop the killing machine in front of him. Soul knew that Maka wouldn't stop- she would kill and kill until someone finally killed her.

He reached up, and pulled her down with his right hand, the girl awkwardly falling onto his chest, still half upright.
In the same instant, he turned his right arm into a scythe, piercing through the skin, fabric, and slicing open her heart, poking through the material on her back.

"H-how...?" She panted between breaths, then keeled over, falling off the bed onto her back.

Soul sat up painfully, clutching his wounded shoulder, gaining no joy from his triumph over her.
"You missed," he told the girl.

Maka's eyes abruptly flared back to life, and assessed the situation, flickering through the room.
"S-Soul," the meister gasped. "Soul, I'm dying. I don't- I don't want to die." Maka sobbed, tears streaming down her face. Soul knelt on the floor, wiping his cheeks quickly.
"I don't want to! I had so much that I wanted to do...I-I..." she choked out, desparately taking quick, greedy breaths. "I wanted to-I just wanted to be with you...Soul, I d-don't deserve it, and this is a stupid request, but...b-before I die...can you p-please kiss me?"

This would be Maka's first and last kiss, so Soul was determined to make it a nice memory for both of them. Lifting Maka up gently as to not hurt her further, he pressed his lips against hers, tears staining their clothes.
Both were wounded, and one dying.

Soul kissed her, again and again, long after her lips went cold, long after she stopped crying, long after she stopped breathing.

The first light of dawn shone through the window, and fell upon a sleeping Soul, who had passed out from his exaustion. Maka's soul hovered in the air, a bright, cheerful red. A fresh batch of tears rising, Soul snatched Maka's soul from the air, resigned to the fact that this was the last soul he needed to become a Death Scythe. He had eaten a witch's soul a while back during a run-in, and all he had to collect were kishin eggs. Soul closed his eyes and swallowed it, not wanting to see the soul.

To his horror, it was the tastiest soul he'd ever eaten.

Soul wouldn't leave Maka's body, and insisted that she have a grave with an empty space- reserved for him. Soul refused Stein's treatment, the wound on his shoulder became infected, and Stein finally forced Soul to have surgery.

Soul was broken. But every day, he tried to smile. Because that was what Maka would want. Maka would want him to move on. But he never got another meister. He separated from his 'girlfriend.' He distanced himself from anyone else, but always tried to follow by what Maka would want him to do. Every night, he would have nightmares, the demon accusing him of killing Maka, and the teary-faced Soul would deny it. Every morning, he was reminded of the fact that Maka would never again wake him up, never again cook him breakfast, never again hit him with one of her books.

Every day, he had to live with the fact that Maka was dead.

If someone had told Soul the day before that his decision to attempt to get Maka jealous would have such dire consequences, he wouldn't have believed them. Nobody would have been able to predict that it would be such a mess.

But that's just the way it is, right?
Love can't always work out, right?