A/N: For those of you who read the manga, you've heard Maka complain about the fact that Soul always has admirers now that he's a Death Scythe, where she doesn't get a single letter. Anyone else wonder why? Soul can be so overprotective, anyway. ^^

She glared at him with her arms folding and her foot tapping. A dangerous pose, really. Soul nervously scanned her up and down, checking to make sure there was no encyclopedia hidden in the folds of her clothes. With relief, he detected none.

"Well?"

Soul sighed and scratched the back of his head. "I don't know Maka . . ."

"Just. Open. It," she said, darkly emphasizing each word.

Soul faced his locker again, knowing all too well what lied in wait, ready to spring at him. He gingerly spun his locker dial, as if it were a bomb and he was trying his best to disable it. But the bomb went off anyway.

Letters spilled out by the dozen, nearly burying his feet in disgusting, cutesy stationary. Though he kept his face neutral, he waited anxiously for the second explosion, the one of Maka's anger. However, today Maka didn't get mad. Rather, she seemed to deflate in resignation and glumly glanced back at her own locker, which was notably neat and empty. She had been through this routine for far too long after all.

"It's not fair," Maka pouted. "Ever since you became a Death Scythe, you always get a ton of partner requests and secret admirers. I'm the one who made you into a Death Scythe! Doesn't anyone want me to be their meister?"

Unable to help himself, Soul snorted. "Who would want a flat-chested bookworm like you?"

He had miscalculated. Maka did have a book up her sleeve, and his face got real intimate with the cover of Britannica. Maka stormed away in a huff, leaving Soul behind to clutch at his face in pain.

"MAKA!" Black Star cried as Maka passed him, but the girl only ignored him. "OI! How dare you ignore A STAR like the amazingly big ME!"

"Can it, Black Star," Maka snapped, turning a corner and disappearing.

Black Star watched her go, scowling. But then he shrugged it off and walked over to Soul, who was beginning to recover. Black Star noticed the brightly colored notes scattered on the ground, and understood immediately.

"You're hopeless, man," Black Star grunted as Soul scooped the letters up and tossed them into a trash can. "Waaaaay uncool."

"No comment."

"You're only ticking her off."

"No comment."

"Well I have a comment," Black Star continued, a vein throbbing as he grabbed Soul by the collar. "As much as I LOVE receiving letters from my HUNDREDS of adoring FANS, I usually like it better when they're actually addressed to me, you know?"

Soul just stared blankly at the pissed off ninja for a moment. Then he grinned impishly and brushed Black Star's hands off of him. "Maka doesn't need those letters anyway."

Black Star rolled his eyes and shoved Soul away good-naturedly. "That girl seriously needs to get a new locker combination. But in the meantime, can you stuff the letters in someone else's locker? Like Death the Kid or something?"

"Only if there's an odd number of letters," Soul said far too innocently.

"Bastard."