Written for MaStar Week 2020
Day 1: Carefree

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When Maka begins to wield Soul as an unclassified student, she is careful. She is told to be careful, remembers to be careful. No matter how or where she steps, she is careful.

It's her first mission outside of her sheltered world as an EAT student when she realizes why. There are enemies who would do her harm, both human and mystical. The second she's away from Death City, Maka finds it hard to trust anyone. There was a macabre fixation with corrupted souls, sometimes their intentions were clear on their faces while others had only the seeds sprouting behind their eyes.

Maka recoils from people like that, unsure of whether she should note down their identities for future encounters. By the time she decides that yes, she must be careful, they are already gone— dissipated into the crowd.

Soul, her weapon partner tugs her along to hide his own discomfort. He pretends that he is strong himself, but really, he wants to be careful. They shouldn't linger for too long, so they march on to be ready for their first hunt.

When they arrive back at Shibusen, they are successful. After the next five trips, they are still successful.

It is rare for their initial few missions to be too difficult, so Maka isn't too proud of them, unlike her friend Black Star who shoves his victories— or his lack of— in her face. If it were so easy, then why hasn't he fed a single kishin egg to his weapon despite going out more than she? Maka asks this to Black Star.

He doubles down on her and says that it's because the first corrupted soul that Tsubaki eats should be gourmet, only the strongest and finest. He is picky about the host they slay, is all. Their first one should be worthy. Didn't Maka know that they are what they eat?

She scoffs at him and says that he's still the same as they used to be, as children. He always did seem to leave his vegetables on the plate, so Maka scolds him as if they are just that— children rather than death's war weapons. She knew that he's a great fighter, even more than other classmates. It should be easy for him to get his first kill; he should hurry up, but also be careful.

Black Star stops her with an arm over her shoulder, smiling widely. He tells her to loosen up, and Soul agrees with him. Great things will come with time, Soul is sure of it. The two bump fists before skirting off to their next joint shenanigan, leaving Maka behind with Tsubaki at the cafeteria table.

His weapon partner assures Maka that it will be fine and that they will hunt again soon. Maybe, they'll even come back to show her their prize before Tsubaki eats it.

Maka thinks that her friend's optimism is contagious, but she sighs, wishing she could be just as carefree as Black Star proves to be. She gets that wish in the later years when hunting pre-kishin is just another chore. The opponents are untrained and no longer a threat, more a nuisance than enemies. Her team focuses on other things— other people— who showcased their powers around the world.

When she collects souls as an offhanded hobby, an inch of her is thankful that the task feels autonomous, purely muscle memory. The other parts of her are relieved for the carefree and mundane cycle. She's done it a hundred times before, and now she is nearing another hundred more. Even Soul whines at her through their link to finish up quickly so they can be home before sunrise.

She tests out a backhanded swing that can only be perfected on a moving target, but the pre-kishin is too predictable. She twists Soul's blade to swing forward instead and it slices through the waist cleanly. However, rather than mold into an egg, the two halves sink into the shadows to reform elsewhere.

It interests her. Maka states the obvious to Soul, that the core must be hiding either in a limb or outside of reach entirely, and he agrees. Only a few hold that quality, but it doesn't change the difficulty, just how quickly they can destroy it.

They bicker a little over Maka's carefree attitude for a bit while on pursuit. Soul argues that they could be done with if she'd notice the location while Maka tells him to shut up over and over again. Very little things changed since the pair were promoted to Spartoi, and their odd bond was one of them.

In the middle of their exchange, she sees a flash of claws coming for her neck. She grips her scythe to counter the impact, but she turns to see a sword brace the blow instead. Its owner pulls down his scarf and smirks at her before parrying the pre-kishin away. He's gotten better at pushing things to a distance but still takes a protective stance in front of Maka. Old habits are hard to break.

She doesn't thank him; if she had to do that every time, he would've likely been annoyed with it anyways. Instead, she only states that it's her hunt and that he can find his own. Black Star merely replies with a lazy tone. She should've been back by now to move to the next area with the rest of the group, so obviously he is bringing it upon himself to remind her. The little detour that she took ended up being an entire left turn.

Maka denies the allegations, but even Soul knows it's true once Black Star said it aloud. The pair only meant to collect one or two kills, but ended up in another city a ways away for their fourth. Her long ranged perception drew them away from their predetermined boundaries and she was too greedy to stop.

With ire, she dashes around Black Star and cuts at the pre-kishin's arm. Before it falls, she swipes again but this time at its other bicep where the secret dual core hides, both dropping onto the road one after the other. Once the power sources are stripped from it, the main body hastily makes a desperate attempt to rejoin with its missing parts. In the scuffle, Maka crushes both arms in succession, forcing the body to dissipate like it was never there. The tendons on the ground writhe for a brief moment before glowing an ominous red. The muscle circles in the empty air until it combines to reveal a single smokey soul-egg.

Maka leaves her partner to enjoy the aftermath while she handles their friend. When she walks back to where Black Star waits, he scoffs again because she should've checked beforehand; she certainly has the ability to. Wasn't she being a little too carefree?

She explains that she wanted to try out a few things before ending it too soon, but Black Star doubts her. He says that she is relying on him too much to come save her. Now at that, Maka sighs, finally cracking a smile which he returns. She asks him if he really believes that, and he says that he does.

Well then, maybe he shouldn't be so reliable, she jokes. Maybe then, he won't always be her safety net. Maybe then, she won't be so carefree like he tends to be. But until the time comes when he can't save her, she will carry on. Carefree. He laughs and says that Maka has too many people protecting her— her friends, her weapon, her father. She doesn't need another person to take the burden.

Maka laughs to match his tone. And yet, she says softly. He does it anyway. The two begin their slow walk back to camp while Soul and Tsubaki lead the way, hoping that the day when Black Star won't be there would never come.

That day came too quickly.

Maka takes to the field in a carefree manner. Her fighting instincts are cultivated through years of experience and even her title travels further than her own two feet. At the mere mention of her name, Maka has already won half the battle. Fear entangles her foes and her blunt formation finishes them off without much hassle.

Hailing from the Albarn Clan, she has met countless of reputable people, but it is an injury to her pride when they think of her only as the Last Deathscythe's Meister. With her own two feet and credence, she stands as not just the creator, but also as Death's finest weapon. The second generation of Death leads with Maka at the helm. She always reminds others to not forget that fact.

When the special forces recruits her for a strange case, Maka, of course, gladly accepts. They bring her to the heart of South America where people are superstitious and where demons disguise themselves as humans. It's where the sun stays too long in the sky and where ghosts leave footprints in the earth.

She shows that she already knows of some instances, unable to keep silent as they debrief her. She recalls of the few fights where destroying a pre-kishin's body wasn't enough and that only targeted attacks where its energy was most concentrated worked. The special forces nod, knowing that they have the right person for the job. Her soul perception is perfect for detecting those sweet spots and hopefully, if anyone can get to the cause of these abnormalities, it will be Maka Albarn.

When she arrives in San Francisco de Quito, she is surprised to find that Black Star is already waiting for her there. He greets her warmly, without excess enthusiasm, because it has only been a few days since they've last seen each other. Taco night is sacred, after all. Maka does question though, why is he here?

Black Star answers her sheepishly that he got into a bit of trouble with the gangs in Hong Kong, and he didn't want to worry her last Sunday at dinner. He shouldn't go back until their tempers cool down or until he apologizes; Maka agrees that the former solution would take less time and less opposition. Black Star is unamused at that, but he follows Maka to a safe house where they will both check in for their mission and be given a trail to start on.

Later in the evening, after a carefree venture into the unfamiliar city, they and their weapon partners are a bit more familiar with the streets. The crew won't get lost too easily now, and they've pinpointed a few restaurants that open late, too. However, once the sun retreats and the clouds are dyed a strange purple, Maka begins her hunt.

Just before leaving to be on his own, Black Star turns and tells her to be careful. At his worry, Maka jokes that she has him, doesn't she? She has faith that if anything were to happen, he would already be there to save her. And so, she stalks the streets alone with Soul transformed, sticking to unlit shadows that may leap at her.

She hasn't felt fear in a long time. Her soul perception is active and she knows just where people walk and where smaller monsters hide. Those monsters have ignited souls, though— not anything out of the ordinary. Soul makes an absentminded comment; they should sweep up the trouble if they have time. Maka giggles, is he hungry? If he is, they should hurry and find leads so they can visit one of the stalls that Soul was eyeing before.

The two walk down the dimly lit roads, bickering. Carefree. They turn a corner that hides an alleyway. Luckily, they find the shortcuts that only locals know about and where reports appear most frequent. Maka, for a split second, forgets to check her surroundings, but as always, she is ready for the black arm that spears at her head.

She slices it off at the elbow and quickly recovers from her surprise. Soul distinctly yells to dodge from the other side, which she does, taking the chance to distance herself from the pre-kishin in the same steps. Maka assesses its body and energy levels, seeing red miasma swirl through what looks to be its veins and concentrate around the base of its neck.

The pre-kishin unleashes the start of a guttural screech, but Maka digs her scythe into its voice box. She yanks upwards to split its head in half and stops the unsavory noise before it can travel too far. It falls backwards with a thud, treads of black wisps evaporating from the wound.

Soul wonders aloud if it's a good idea for them to leave it as it is, but Maka believes that it may be best to bring the core back alive. If Stein could get his hands on it, then they may get answers that they need. She checks the energy signatures to make sure that she left the prize intact— she did— and she mutilates the head further to prevent it from reforming too quickly. When she is done, she uses Soul to gouge out the core. Her partner grimaces while she works, but he notices another figure come from her blind spot.

He calls softly but severely. Maka, behind.

She immediately swivels on her heels while she's still squatted, but relaxes when she sees it's Black Star. He takes one look at the aftermath and understands immediately, calming his breath from running so suddenly. Tsubaki emerges from her blade and looks to Black Star for permission. Once granted, she goes to Maka's side in knife form to aid the progress.

Maka struggles for a brief moment before she says— in a carefree tone— a few teasing words to Black Star. He showed up too quickly. Was he spying on her?

He grumbles and says that their paths must have crossed while scouting. Tsubaki laughs and reveals that the two meisters were nearby each other for a while, but Black Star says that it's nonsense. A coincidence. He frowns when Soul saunters up with a cheeky smile.

Soul, through Maka's link, knows that Black Star was undetected up until he came close, and he says as much. The latter tries to explain it away; he says that Angie has been teaching him to conceal his soul, but Black Star avoids admitting the more obvious claim— that he had been keeping near Maka for some time now.

The unspoken confirmation humors Maka. She holds up the core to show both boys that the deed is done and that the dead stays dead. They should go report their findings to the intelligence branch before going back to work.

When she gets up from the ground, Tsubaki in hand, she does not notice the arm that she shucked away before. She is only aware of the unmoving body below her, not its limb that crawls in a manner that could only be described as deranged. Too carefree, she forgets that the pre-kishin from years ago also had two cores that were filled with malice, one in each arm that had to meet its demise before it was safe again.

The arm that had ample time to recover didn't bother to reconnect with its fallen counterpart. Instead, it shivers. It readies itself into a pointed spike, powered by the evil bound to its wrist, and aims itself towards Maka. Tsubaki doesn't catch the movement from where it hides, nor does Soul. The two are focused on Maka who bounces to Black Star, carefree.

With his arms crossed and shoulders tense, Black Star is the one who sees the shadow of a lance form from the corner of his eyes. He is the one who reacts— doesn't think, leaping between Maka and the jab without a weapon. He catches the attack with his hands, holding it in place while it digs into his heart, blood rising to his throat and forcing his vision into darkness.

Maka hears a dissociated yell coming from her own lips. She doesn't know what happens next, but at the very least, she realizes too late that she is careless.