Here's my answer to the Kishin Maka challenge. Sorry for the wait. I'm currently dealing with some computer issues that may not be resolved for some time, in fact, I may need a new one all together. Fortunately, I backed up this chapter, but updates may be sparse from here on out.

I'll be using a few characters and events from Soul Eater NOT, but I haven't read a lot of it, since only the first 14 chapters have been translated as of yet, and it was a while ago. The title of this story was inspired by a song of the same name that served as the opening of the game Disgaea 2. I thought the lyrics fit the story.

Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater.

It was yet another of the bright, shining days Death City was known for. Located within the heart of the Nevada Desert, there were hardly any days where the laughing sun, with its wide grin, didn't constantly shine down on it, its cheerfulness almost infectious to anyone who simply looked up into the clouds. People bustled about through the streets, going about their daily lives. All in all, it seemed like a beautiful day to be alive, enjoying the relative peace maintained by Shibusen and Lord Death.

This cheerful Friday afternoon, however, was in stark contrast to the life of at least one little girl in the home of the prestigious school for Meisters and Weapons. A ten year old girl laid face down on her bed, sobbing into her pillow, feeling as the area around her eyes grew damp from her tears as the events of the last few hours replayed through her head, over and over, like a broken record that existed solely to torment her by reminding her how her world had shattered.

It was only a few months ago when she'd been so ecstatic, so happy as she looked towards the future. After years of watching her father, man whore that he was, cheat on her mother, going to far as to sometimes let them drag him away right in front of her when they were supposed to be spending the day together, her mother had filed for divorce. She'd admired her for that so, she knew it had to be hard to finally go through with it, since she'd loved him so much she gave him chance after chance. She was planning a trip around the world for the next seven years, to see all kinds of exotic places, and not just on missions for Shibusen on the hunt for evil humans, but to truly enjoy them.

If her father truly loved them, he would have resisted his urges and stayed true to his family. So many happy memories of him had been forever tainted by his unfaithfulness. She'd lay awake at night, unable to sleep with her mother screaming at her father, but she'd always give him another chance. Until now, that is, and since then she'd been looking forward to putting those memories behind her and moving on to her new life with just her mother.

But then, in a ruling no one saw coming, the courts had decided to give her father custody. How could anyone think he was fit to be anyone's guardian? Why, because he happened to be the chief Death Scythe? Now she was stuck under his roof. Every time she saw him, she'd remember some time he hurt her or mama.

As if that weren't bad enough, what did her mother do then? Stick around to comfort her? Stay in town to spend time with her? No, she goes on her trip the very next day.

(Flashback)

"But I don't want to stay with him." Maka pleaded with tears streaming down her eyes, refusing to refer to Spirit as her father after seeing him cheat on her mother time and time again, seeing him abandon her in the park or in the street when he forgot he promised he'd spend time with some random girl.

He did try his best to be a good father in front of her, but so often he'd do something smothering, seeming to believe all boys were players like him, something she'd yet to see any evidence of the contrary for, or embarrassing, like how he constantly doted on her or when his goofiness crossed the line between loveable and annoying.

Her mother, Kami, a beautiful young woman of Japanese descent with ash blonde hair the same shade as her daughter's tied in a ponytail that went halfway down her back, wearing a flowing, yellow dress, kneeled down and placed her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "Sorry, Maka, but I can't take you with me. Don't let yourself get down, you're a strong girl. I know this hurts, but that just means you're getting stronger." She pulled her daughter into a hug, placing her cheek against the side of the young girl's forehead. "Remember, mama loves you. Hold onto your courage, never back down, and make mama proud, ok?"

(Flashback)

And then she was gone (after slapping Spirit through the wall when he tried to apologize to her again).

How could she just leave? How could she abandon her to spend the next seven years with her unfaithful father?

"MAKA!" She heard her father call through the door.

Outside the room, Spirit pressed himself against the door, resting his ear on its frame and praying that something he said could get his daughter to stop crying, which had now quieted down into quiet sobs. "OPEN UP, PLEASE! YOU KNOW PAPA LOVES YOU RIGHT!?" She heard him bang against the door. "Please Maka, come out and get something to eat. You can't just stay locked up in your room forever!" When he received no other response, he banged on the door once again and desperately cried, "PLEASE! I KNOW YOU'RE UPSET ABOUT MAMA, BUT I'LL CHANGE! I'LL ALWAYS BE HERE FOR YOU, I PROMISE, MAKA!"

In her current state, she hardly paid attention to his words. Even if she had, after all the times he made the same promise to her mother, she wouldn't have believed him. He said he loved them, but he'd always let himself be led away by anything in a skirt.

If she were paying attention, she'd have scoffed. What kind of father was he? As it was, she simply kept her face buried in her pillow.

Like she told him after she'd been fed up with how he hurt her mother, she'd long since stopped acknowledging him as her father.

The next day, as the midday sun shined through her window, Maka sat at her desk, staring blankly at the sheet of paper in front of her, a pencil held in her hand above it as she attempted to pour all her ill feelings into poetry. It was something she'd picked up under the suggestion of Sid-sensei from the academy on a day he noticed she was particularly down and she found that pouring all her negative sentiments (mostly over her father's actions) into her writing had always put her at ease before.

But it wasn't working this time. No matter how much she wrote, that pain never ebbed away. The ball of feelings in her chest stubbornly refused to leave her. The bitterness, sorrow, loss, and more than small sense of resentment she felt stayed strong, and, if anything, writing simply proved to frustrate her more.

In the corner of the room, next to a bookcase filled with books her father bought her, filled with books in her grade about soul studies and common subjects and everything from fantasy and mystery stories to history texts, each of which she'd read, were several crumpled sheets of paper. Each a poem she'd pushed her feelings into, each thrown away when they did nothing to ease her heart. What was written on these sheets was mostly covered up, except for the final lines of the most recent poem.

And every wound has to have its 'birth' before it can reach its 'demise'

And that end waits just as surely as tomorrow's sun will rise

But all things pure will always share the same fate as those pains

And now, like dead leaves in the cold winter nights, only ashes remain

Maka sighed as she stared down, trying to think of her next work when her stomach rumbled.

Loudly.

It didn't elicit any great response from the young girl, who simply looked down at her empty stomach. She hadn't really felt like eating since the previous day, but when her father left dinner and a drink at her room door, she'd taken it. Now, however, Spirit wanted her to come out of the room and told her breakfast was waiting, but at the time, she hadn't felt like getting out of bed and had stayed locked up in her room. It had no doubt long gotten cold by now. She still didn't feel like leaving her room, but she couldn't ignore her complaining belly anymore.

Pushing herself away from her desk, she stood up and walked to her door and unlocked it before slowly pulling it open. It creaked on its hinges as it swung wider, the sound causing her father, who sat in their living room, sulking on the sofa, to suddenly sit bolt upright and spin around to look in its direction with an expression of absolute elation.

"MAKA!" Spirit cried as he shot off of the sofa and seemed to almost teleport to Maka's side, falling down on his knees and wrapping his arms around her, though she made no move to react, tears streaming from his eyes as he cried, "MAKA, I'M SO GLAD TO SEE YOU OUT OF YOUR ROOM! ARE YOU ALL RIGHT!? I KNOW YOU MUST BE HURTING, BUT DON'T WORRY, PAPA WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU AGAIN, I PROMISE MAKA!"

Normally, Maka might mentally quip something along the lines of 'yep, nothing unusual here' or 'I wonder if the neighbors are going to complain about the noise again', at the moment she was still numb to the world. She simply replied, "I'm hungry."

Pulling away from his daughter and placing one hand on her shoulder and giving her a thumbs up, Spirit nodded vigorously. "Not to worry, Maka, papa will make your favorite. It'll be the best breakfast you've ever had, just you wait!"

Half an hour later, and they were eating breakfast together, just like the family had shared every morning when they'd truly been a family.

Except mama wasn't there, and never would be again.

It was a fairly spacious kitchen/dining room combination with a checkered tile floor and fairly high quality kitchen equipment all aligned together on the far wall, along with the counter and sink. Two windows and a glass patio door allowed the daylight to shine in.

To his credit, he did a great job of making her breakfast. Delicious French Toast, her favorite breakfast food, with scrambled eggs and cheese and ham and sausage, fresh squeezed orange juice and milk, all painstakingly prepared to absolute perfection. He really could be a doting father when he wanted to.

Too bad that 95% of the time he was a constant source of anger and shame to her, both before and in the foreseeable future.

Spirit's own breakfast was hardly touched as he watched Maka push her food around a bit but slowly eat it.

"So, how is it? Does it brighten up your day at all?" Spirit asked, hoping to get her to open up.

"It's good." Maka replied blankly, her face an emotionless mask and her eyes never leaving her plate.

"So, I did a good job?"

"Yeah."

He leaned towards her, looking expectantly with no small amount of optimism in his eyes. In fact, the light of hope shining from his eyes may have blinded her if she looked up from her food as he smiled eagerly. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Not really."

He winced at that and sat back, giving her a slightly anguished look while trying to school his features and project a comforting aura for her.

It pained him to see his little girl this way. He was under no delusions that this was anyone's fault but his own. He may have been a doting father when he was actually there for her, but he was well aware that overall he was a terrible parent and a horrible husband. Not even Lord Death would be able to tell him how many times he'd blatantly cheated on her mother in front of her.

He knew he shouldn't do it. He knew he should have been there for his family, but he just couldn't control that part of himself. He never could, not since he was a child. He knew that was a weak excuse and didn't justify his actions in the slightest, but it was true. And while Kama could have stayed in town, he couldn't blame her for wanting to put as much distance between herself and him as possible after the number of times he'd betrayed her.

He was a failure, as a father and a husband, and he knew it.

After a pause, he prodded, "You know I'm sorry right? About mama leaving?"

"Yeah."

"You know papa loves you, right?"

"Uh-huh."

He continued to ask her questions, as she didn't seem to respond to anything else, but she would only ever respond with quick, emotionless, one or two word answers. Much to Spirit's dismay, there seemed to be nothing he could do to make her open up to him.

In short order, she'd finished her meal and abruptly stood up from the table before walking away.

Her father placed his hands on the table and quickly rose to his feet, causing the chair behind him to rake against the floor as he stared after her, his face a mask of worry. "Wait, Maka. Where are you going?"

"To my room." She replied, already halfway across the living room, her head tilted forward so that the shadows cast by her hair covered her eyes.

"YOU CAN'T!" He said, suddenly leaping out of his chair, over the table, and onto the floor behind her, gripping her ankle with both hands ands crying as he rubbed his cheek on her little shin. "PLEASE MAKA, DON'T SHUT YOURSELF IN THERE ANYMORE! I'M SORRY! PLEASE FORGIVE ME MAKA!"

"Let go."

"PLEASE, I'M BEGGING YOU! I PROMISE I'LL BE A BETTER FATHER FROM NOW ON."

"… Let go."

"PLEASE MAKA, LISTEN TO YOUR PAPA! I PROMISE I'LL MAKE EVERYTHING I'VE DONE UP TO YOU SOMEHOW!"

Finally, after all the prodding he'd done and assurances he'd given since their meal began, he managed to elicit an emotional response from her.

Unfortunately, that emotion was anger.

Maka's face shifted slightly, showing that beneath the shadows her eyebrow had twitched as a cross shaped vein popped up on her forehead and her mouth twisted into a furious snarl. She reached over and grabbed the closest thing at hand, which happened to be a thick, hard cover book.

"I said…" She began, lifting the book high above her head. "LET GO!"

She brought the book down upon her father's head with all her might, the sound of the impact echoed through the home. Holding the book up, she looked down at her father's prone form, lying on the floor with blank, white eyes with the indentation of the book in his skull.

After a moment, Maka gave a slight smile. That had actually made her feel a little better.

'I'll have to do that more from now on.' She thought to herself. It was a great punishment for when people were acting stupid, not to mention good stress relief. Now, should she give it a name…?

Remembering Lord Death's Reaper-chop, which she'd seen him use on her father once for using his mirror to perv on an attractive meister Death had been watching due to the danger she'd faced, she thought for a moment before nodding to herself with a grin. "Yeah, I'll call it my Maka-chop."

A few days passed, but still, the sorrow Maka felt from her mother's departure had not faded, nor had the bitterness or resentment she felt towards her father for driving her mother away and her once sainted mother for just up and leaving her. In fact, if anything, those negative sentiments only grew.

It didn't help that her father had finally managed to coax her into letting him take her out through the town in an attempt to cheer her up, only to run across women he'd wined and dined, many of whom mentioning how they wouldn't need to sneak around anymore, tried to pull him away. While he did resist letting his hormones control him as he usually would, she heard one of them come by that night.

She hadn't left till morning.

'Well, at least he's not cheating on mama anymore…' she thought bitterly to herself as she walked down the halls of Shibusen academy. As she made her way towards her class, largely ignoring the looks everyone gave her, the divorce and custody battle of Lord Death's weapon being fairly well heard news, meaning most of the school was aware of his infidelity, and that he won custody, her brow furrowed as she thought of her family.

She used to look up to her mother. She was so proud to be the daughter of the creator of a Death Scythe and one of the greatest meisters of her generation, as well as the Death Scythe she created. Now, in the face of being abandoned with her unfaithful father, much of that admiration had faded away.

As she entered the classroom and walked up the stairs and to her seat, stopping and looking out of the window and towards the sky, she made a vow to herself.

She had wanted to be as great as her mother and to make her proud, now she wanted more. She wanted to create a weapon that would put her father to shame. She wanted to become the greatest meister to ever walk the face of the earth and make it clear to everyone that her mother was nothing in comparison.

She would surpass both of her parents. She, with or without a weapon, would become more powerful, more skilled, and more talented and knowledgeable than either of them could ever dream of being. This, she swore to herself.

Soon enough, Sid-sensei stepped into the class.

"All right, class, pipe down and pay attention, you're not here to socialize." He said as he walked to the center of the floor. "Now, let's take roll."

Roll call was a normal affair. Nothing out of the ordinary. Maka responded with the same seriousness she always did before they got down to their class. Today, the lecture was on the various distortions that can exist within a soul wavelength and how they come about and how they can affect the soul and its owner.

However, as Maka listened, she began to grow frustrated, though she kept her features set in the same strict expression as she always did as she hung on the teacher's every word, taking detailed notes and soaking up all the knowledge he had to give.

Ever the perfect student.

However, beneath this, she was beginning to feel slightly frustrated. How was she ever going to accomplish her dreams if this was all she was doing? Sure, she was almost always at the head of the class, number one or two academically depending on where she stood against her chief rival amongst the bookworms, Ox Ford, but how was she ever going to get anywhere if she was only top of her class?

When Sid began going over the most common distortion, the Madness Distortion, which was possessed by people who used insanity to increase their power or possessed a strong madness buried in their soul, but hadn't completely fallen to it, something they'd already gone over so it was largely a recap before moving onto the other distortions, she let her mind and her eyes wander.

Her green orbs swept across the class, taking in all those around her, everyone she knew and had taken classes with for so long, some of whom focusing on the teacher, some projecting an aura that clearly said they didn't care about anything besides the combat portion of their future duties. She wasn't the only one in the class that hadn't partnered up. Jacqueline O. Lantern Dupre, an unpaired weapon. She might try to partner with the black clad girl if she wasn't adamant about being a scythe meister.

Her frown deepened as she watched him dutifully focus on what Sid was saying and considered that that was always her. Was it really such a good idea to follow the teacher unquestioningly? Yes, you'd take in all the teacher's knowledge, but it wasn't like they'd teach you everything they knew. Every artist would teach their students the basics and many secrets, but beyond that it was up to them to come up with their own style. Just like that, in order to understand the deeper aspects of the soul, madness, and technology like the small scale, gadget-like demon tools Shibusen made use of, one would need to pursue knowledge on their own.

Sid would teach them a lot and he was good, that was for sure, but after a certain point, it'd be up to them to either seek out private lessons or pour over the tomes in the library on their own. If that was the case, why should she just do as he said now?

How was she ever going to achieve her goal if she just moved along with the rest of the flock like a sheep following a shepherd?

No, she needed to push on ahead, but she refused to sacrifice her perfect grades by neglecting their current assignments. She would follow along with the class, all the while moving ahead.

Then her eyes fell on yet another meister who'd yet to find a partner: Black Star, one of her oldest friends and the only person in the class she really knew. The boy was a childish attention seeker with an ego the size of Death City, if not the moon, but he was also upbeat and cheerful, always with boundless energy that almost seemed infectious at times. Although, he would always remain positive and jovial, even in the face of utter failure and suffered from delusions of grandeur, constantly going on about how he would surpass God and was terribly self absorbed, he was still a good friend who'd help you out if you needed it, though he'd never let you forget it. While she was in a constant competition for the position of number one student academically, and him near the bottom, he was definitely at the top of the class in terms of combat. Already he had defeated many older students with weapons at their side on his own.

If she wanted to truly reach the top, she'd have to surpass him too.

She buried these thoughts deep in her mind, focusing her attention on the teacher as he moved on to some new information. Today, she would be the dutiful student she always was.

Tonight, she had planning to do.

That night, as the moon shown in the purple, starless night sky through her window, blood dripping down from its mouth in a sign of ill tidings, Maka nodded to herself as she looked at her diary.

Once she'd gotten home, she once more locked herself in her room, emerging only for the bathroom or dinner, and focused on her work. After finishing her studies and homework, she'd moved on to writing about her new goal and thinking up a basic outline of what she'd need to accomplish in order to fulfill her dreams. Everything that could be useful, or that would be absolutely vital, to her success would be laid out in front of her.

First, as she'd realized within the class, she couldn't just sit back and learn through the standard curriculum. She'd need to go beyond it. The primary subjects she'd need to research would be the anatomy of the body, the soul and any information concerning demon tool, from known ones to their creation and inner workings, for those could only be useful. History would be a vital subject too; after all, those who didn't learn from history were doomed to repeat it, something her mother had told her.

Another major topic she'd research would be how to strengthen a soul and increase the flexibility of her wavelength. After all, that was one of the most vital aspects of both meisters and weapons. Speaking of which, another subject of note was weapons. The gene was passed down through families, and in many cases it lied dormant through generations, though nowadays, after so long after their creation and their spread across the world, just about anyone had the capability to give birth to one, it was more common in families that possessed a weapon in recent generations.

So then, she must have inherited her father's scythe Weapon Blood, but it was dormant within her and wouldn't awaken under normal circumstances. Was it possible to awaken it? That was something that could help her immensely if it was.

Magic would be another important topic to research. Despite what most believed, it was actually present in every living human being, which is why enchanters could learn their craft, but in most the amount of magic is so small that it can't be applied to even simplistic purposes, let alone anything like the spells that made magical beings such as witches and sorcerers so dangerous. Enchanters would usually have to work tirelessly for weeks to knead in enough magic to bring their creations to life, unless they'd done so for decades, and even then while that built up their magic and ability to channel it, it would also cause the body and mind to become set on that method of doing so, so they would never be able to apply that magic in any other form. That, or having one's soul strengthened with magic, was the best most normal people could hope for, as it was impossible to learn the type of spells and even basic magic witches and sorcerers used without either inborn ability or someone or something powerful infusing it into one's soul because there was no other known way for normal people to increase the magic in their souls on their own. She doubted she'd ever be able to use magic in any form, and even if it was possible there obviously wouldn't be anything on it in Shibusen's library, but it was so abundant that being able to recognize and, if possible, counter it when faced with a practitioner of it was essential.

Another vital skill she'd need to look up was Soul Perception. Unlike the Weapon Gene, where from what she heard, theories existed about whether or not it could be awakened, you either had this talent, or you didn't. She'd need to look it up and find out if she did.

Finally, while she knew she would never surpass Black Star in sheer brute strength, she could stand strengthen herself, and outdoing him in speed and flexibility was definitely possible. She was already one of the more athletic students in her class, despite her utter lack of interest and knowledge on sports, and was believed to have great potential as a meister, but she would have to push herself farther to achieve her goal of being the best.

Now, there were two problems with all this. The first being obvious: time. While she was a quick study, this was certainly tall order, but she had years to work with. Still, she'd definitely need to cut back on her leisure reading time. Not that that was too much of a sacrifice, she enjoyed reading to gain knowledge almost as much as she did reading mystery novels and dramas, especially if the subject fascinated her.

The second problem was not so easily overcome. A lot of what she wanted to learn would be well beyond her current level. To be more exact, one star meisters and those without weapons could only check out one star books, the most important texts to her plans would likely be four stars, only be available to Death Scythes and the meisters who created them.

Good thing she was the daughter of a Death Scythe.

Nodding to herself with a slight smile of accomplishment, she closed her journal and stood up, stretching out and covering her mouth as she let out a yawn. She took her diary and walked over to her bed before kneeling down and raising the bed skirt, moving aside a loose floorboard near the edge of the bed and hiding it beneath it with her old diary. After finding her overprotective father reading her diary one day months ago (and summarily throwing just about everything in her room not bolted down at him in retaliation for this breach), she'd needed a new hiding place and was confident in this one.

With her plans nicely tucked away, she turned in for some well deserved rest. Tomorrow, she'd begin checking out everything useful that was available to her at her current level, and once she was finished with them, which would likely take a few months, she'd need to convince her father to let her borrow his library card.

Considering how he always doted on her when his hormones weren't leading him astray, it would be child's play.

And so ends the first chapter. Hope you liked it. It will be a little while before Maka goes insane.

Sorry if the ending of that poem wasn't good, poetry is not my strong suit.