Author's note: So this is a scenario in which Soul decided that he couldn't put up with upper class snobbery and decides to live on the streets. His parents aren't musicians, they're just wealthy in this one because it fit my purposes more. Basically I just wanted to write a piece where Soul was was totally BA ;) Reviews help me keep writing!
Punk
The crooked alleyway was dark and far too peaceful before Soul decided to make it a little more lively. He took a knee to the stomach and an upper cut to the jaw. They thought he was down, but he kept coming faster and harder. He landed a particularly powerful right hook on one low life and nearly knocked him out.
His buddy called it quits and half dragged him away, "Come on man, lets get outta here. That dude's cracked!" The savage glee hadn't quite left the teenager's burning red eyes when he spotted a lanky figure staring at him past the scrambling figures of the retreating hoodlums. She would probably take off after the shock wore off. No- she was walking toward him! When she stepped into the shadows he was that she wore a white dress shirt and a red plaid skirt like she was walking home from a day of lessons at a private school. Was she insane? He didn't betray any emotion, but let her approach.
"That was an impressive fight," she said casually.
"Yeah? You my next challenger?" he said tensing his muscles to intimidate. She giggled.
"I'm not looking for a fight, and, no offense but you couldn't take me," there was just a hint of condescension in her voice. WHAT? Alright, try this on for size, he thought.
"You sure about that?" he growled out producing dozens of blades all over his body. Her face registered shock, but not the right kind.
"You're a weapon!" So, she knew what he was. That explained a few things, but she still had balls of steal. "Listen, there's this school that teaches weapons like you how to hone their abilities and use it to keep humanity safe. You could fight people way more powerful than those guys," she jammed a thumb behind her.
His interest was peaked, "Really?" Soul wasn't sure what made him fain ignorance but his gut told him to go with it.
The girl grew visibly more excited, "I can take you there now and show you around if you like."
He shook an unruly mass of silver hair with incredulity, "Yeah, sure." This girl was something else. "So, are you a weapon too?"
"I'm a technician. That means I can wield a weapon if our wave lengths match. You cab learn about that in class though, it's a little complicated. I haven't found a weapon whose match is quiet right yet, so who knows! Maybe we'll become partners." He snorted loudly. She smacked him and he held up an arm defensively.
"Whoa! Easy there princess!"
"I'm top in my class, you'd be lucky to have me," she informed him with irritation. "My name is Maka by the way," she said as they walked. It was funny how innocent she looked in her uniform and blond pig tails, yet she had more guts than most of the cold hearted crooks he usually hung out with.
"Soul," he said shortly hunching into his black leather jacket.
"Soul . . ." she repeated thoughtfully. He waited for her to make fun of his nome or make a stupid comment.
"I like it."
After wandering through halls and up staircases, an walking into a few classrooms they made their way into a room much more grand than any of the others. "This is the room where the Shinigami hosts a ball for the students on special occasions. They're a pretty big deal," she said watching him. Soul only nodded. "You're not impressed?"
He shrugged, "I've seen better." She thought he was kidding. He wasn't.
"You're not going to complain at the formality?"
He scoffed, "Complaining is for losers who don't want to deal with reality." Maka looked slightly impressed.
"So, you're just not going to say anything," she said.
"Why should I when I have nothing to say?" His eyes swept over the room. It really was spectacular, but the ballroom at his parent's place outstripped this one by miles. He froze up when he spotted a grand piano sitting in the corner.
Maka noticed, "Do you play?"
"No." She raised a skeptical eyebrow. Damn, he had answered too quickly. Soul ambled toward the instrument, passing under an proud chandelier that cast the room in a warm yellow light. Soul ran his fingers delicately across a few keys. "It reminds me of my parents too much." The technician looked like she was expecting an explanation but he wasn't going to give it to her. She sat down on the shiny bench herself with a silly little smile and began to poke out chopstick with two fingers. He dropped his face into an empty hand. "Nooo," he groaned. "I hate that stupid song." It couldn't be helped. Soul took a seat beside Maka and she scooted over to give him more room.
His hands hovered in position before he allowed instinct to take over and his fingers danced across the keys. She sat watching with wonderment and a small "wow" escaped from her lips. Soul smirked. He was just getting warmed up. The dexterity came back to his hands within seconds and he was weaving a master piece from thin air.
"Son?" a male voice called from the doorway. Soul's hand crashed onto the keys cutting the piece off with a sour chord. His parents hurried toward the pair of teenagers, Soul stood up like he was considering taking off.
"Soul, sweety, you're ok!" his mother ran over to him without a thought of preserving the dignity of her station since she was so obviously upper class. She bent over to cup his face in her hands with tears in her eyes. She had a kind face with soft silver curls tumbling over her shoulders.
"What are you doing here?" he said with disbelief in his voice.
"We began donating money to the school three years ago since the family business kept growing," his father explained as he followed the woman at a more measured pace.
"Yes!" his mom laughed weakly through her tears, "And Death-sama invited us over to see how our money has been put to use." He turned back to look at her face that was brimming with barley contained emotion and he softened.
"I'm sorry, I didn't greet you properly. Hello mother," Soul kissed his mother's cheek in affection and she broke and wrapped him in a tight hug, shaking slightly with silent tears. His chest suddenly felt tight.
"You don't visit us often enough son," the man in the double breasted suit said sternly but there was an almost imperceptible crack in his voice. When his mother released him and wiped her eyes his father clapped him on the shoulder.
"What have we here?" Death came gliding toward the family reunion.
"Death-sama, this is our son, Soul Eater."
"A healthy looking boy. Is he considering attending the school?"
"That's why we're confused sir, he doesn't have the gifts that this school cultivates," his father explained professionally. He hardly ever broke from his smooth business voice, as if he was born writing ledgers and attending meetings with other business tycoons. He always wore a black suit that matched his neatly combed black hair. The only thing that seemed out of place were his intense red eyes that his son had inherited.
"Um-" Maka spoke up uncertainly from her criss-crossed position on the piano bench. "Actually, out on the street I saw him- well I found out that he's a weapon, so I decided to show him around the school a bit." His parents both looked at him in surprise.
He shrugged, "I found out about a year ago."
"Good going Soul Eater Evans!" Death said holding out a giant blocky V for victory. "We would be more than happy to accept you should you decide to enroll." All of them turned to him, and he stepped back from all the expectations suddenly weighing his shoulders down again.
"But perhaps for now we should give the boy some room to finish his tour," Death suggested in a tone more serious than he was accustomed to using. His mother looked back at Soul with a small amount of desperation shining through her eyes.
"Hey," he said taking her hand. "I'll come around for dinner tonight, alright?"
"Our meal will be served at six o'clock as always. We'll tell the maids to set an extra place for you." His father began to leave with the shinigami.
His mother gave his hand a little squeeze and smiled at him, "You're playing is still beautiful Soul." He returned the smile with a crooked one of his own and she strode after the two men. The grand double doors creaked closed.
"Wait. So let me get this strait. Your parents are our biggest philanthropists but you live on the street?" Soul nodded in affirmation. "Well, no wonder you weren't impressed with all the grandiosity," she mumbled. "Why don't you live with them? It's obvious that you don't hate them and you can't be any older than I am."
"Excuse me, you're like ten-"
"Thirteen!"
"-and I am fifteen," he let out a breath slowly trying to decide if he wanted to explain it all to some girl he barely knew. For some reason opening up to her a little felt right. He sat down beside her again and played a little riff, concentrating on the keys instead of her face.
"My parents are kind of overbearing. They wanted me to do all this stuff, like take etiquette classes, teach me ballroom dancing, how to eat a meal with a million different utensils, they wanted to turn me into a socialite and a business man. They dragged me to dozens of different ivy league prep schools," he made a face. " My brother loved it all and he was perfect at it but I couldn't keep up. None of that's me. They weren't cruel about it or anything, that's just who they are and what they expected from me and my brother. I love them but I couldn't live that way anymore." He stopped his playing and looked up at the ceiling. "I'd rather wear baggy pants, stuff my face with my hands, and fight jerks for no good reason. They especially hated the fighting." He smirked at a memory, "One night I punched this asshole billionaire because he was hitting on my mom. You should have seen his face, it was priceless. Anyway, my parents and I couldn't stop arguing after that and I kept threatening to run off and never speak to them again. Eventually we all agreed that I should go out into the world and find my own way as long as I checked with them in once in a while."
"So you became a hoodlum for the hell of it?"
"Yeah, kinda."
"You're amazing, you know that?" Soul tilted his face to see Maka shaking her head in disbelief. She jerked her head up at a sudden realization, "You knew about weapons and techs the entire time, didn't you. And you let me ramble on like an IDIOT!"
Soul snorted loudly, "Just realized that did you?" He was introduced to his first Maka Chop via a deadly 365 page text book.
"OW!"