Winters within the fences were cold and dry. A bitter wind whipped between the buildings, catching a pair of pigtails and tossing them sky was overcast but Maka knew better than to hope for snowfall after months of severe drought. The wind ruffled the corners of her trench coat, permeating the heavy material and chilling her through her sweater; Maka shivered. She was going to kill that boy when she finally tracked him down. He could count on it.
She had been searching for him since early morning. The weak sunlight had roused her and warned her of his absence. Suspicion had overwhelmed her and she'd quickly set out after him – or, at least, in the direction she hoped he had gone. She still didn't know where he had hidden after several hours of aimlessly wandering the cobblestone alleyways, and her stomach was trying to convince her to turn back. She'd nearly come full circle by this point, she realized as she wandered through the slums of Death City. People were beginning to emerge from their homes, and despite her relative safety Maka felt the need to pull the collar of her jacket up to conceal her face.
Pausing to rest and coughing up a bit of cold air, Maka leaned against the wall of an unidentifiable building, a food processing plant perhaps, and stared at the opposite wall. "Death to heretics" was spray-painted there in large graffiti letters. She sighed.
"He probably just went back to the inn," she decided with yet another sigh before turning around to retrace her steps. She'd need to work in an hour or so anyway, she reasoned. The street lamps had begun to flicker out one by one.
The walk back to the inn was relatively short, but it took almost double the time courtesy of several detours in hope of locating her friend. She sighed in relief when she entered the building; it was small and homey, possibly painted pink at one point in its history, and the proprietor had at least attempted to grow some flowers in the window baskets. Best of all, in Maka's opinion at least, the building was heated. A small bell tinkled as she shut the door behind her, a whoosh of warm air escaping into the frigid streets.
A curvy blonde woman looked up expectantly at the sound, and her features lit up when she saw Maka. "Good morning, Maka!" she greeted the girl.
"Good morning, Marie," Maka returned absently. "Have you seen Soul around?"
The woman contemplated the question for a moment before shaking her head. "No, I don't think so. Isn't it his birthday today?"
"Yes," Maka nodded. "He's thirteen. And missing. I'm worried about him."
"It's a bit early to jump to conclusions, don't you think?" There was no judgement in Marie's voice, only comfort. She had, of course, realized that the boy's birthday was approaching – she just hadn't comprehended the speed with with it was coming on. "He'll be alright."
"I think he's just hiding. I'm going to go get warmed up and then I'll be right down. I'll look for him after work."
"Okay, Maka." Marie smiled warmly and returned to reading her tabloid newspaper with a somewhat concerned scowl.
Maka ascended the stairs to the bedroom she shared with Soul and cast a glance over to his mattress on the floor. The bed was still neatly made and he was still nowhere to be seen. He would certainly return by nightfall, she reasoned. She pulled her sweater off and replaced it with her uniform, a simple starched shirt, a sweater vest, a skirt, and a tie. It was a bit less comfortable than a sweater and jeans, but it looked nicer and definitely was more appealing to customers. She restyled her hair, trying to diminish the frizz from the wind a bit, and then deemed herself presentable and returned to the first floor and exited the main building through a side door. The bar was a side business, but drew in nearly as much money as the inn itself. Maka was glad it was there, and that Marie was so darn nice. Working the bar during the day was her trade for renting out the attic room to live in.
Business in the bar was slow, and Maka resented the day shift. Barely anyone came in until at least five o'clock, so the majority of her day was spent standing and staring at the door, hoping a customer would walk in. When business finally picked up, the weak winter sun was waning quickly and the sky was overcast. The customers were docile in spite of their inebriation, and with the absence of fighting came the opportunity for Maka to listen in on conversations. The farmer's pigs were growing longer than they were fatter, a disappointing revelation. The public schools would be closed tomorrow for a storm warning, a detail Maka lingered, surprised, on for a bit longer; if Soul hadn't returned by the next day, she could go out looking for him again. The townsfolk were rumoring a purge of the downtown area, and human citizens were urged to remain calm and indoors. Maka worried at her lip, passing it off as a rumor. The idea of hunters entering the streets in broad daylight to sift through the population would be laughable if it didn't ignite a small spark of worry in the back of her mind.
The minute hand rounded the clock twice more before Marie appeared in the doorway. A fluffy collar framed her face, the tips of her golden hair frosty.
"You can come in now, Maka. Did you get anything to eat?" She approached the bar and took Maka's place. The evening shift at the bar was more dangerous than the day shift, obviously, and Maka made a habit of getting to bed in a timely manner anyway, so Marie always came in at around seven to relieve her of duty.
"Not for dinner. I'll grab something on the way out." Maka unfastened her apron and smiled. Marie winked at her. "Did Soul ever show up?"
The blonde shook her head. "Do you have any idea at all where he's gone?"
"No," Maka admitted softly. "I looked everywhere I could think of."
"I'm sure he'll come back eventually," Marie reassured the girl, in the kind of tone that insinuated that she was not sure at all. Maka nodded and grabbed a few rolls from the counter.
"School's out tomorrow anyway, I think" she sighed. "I can go after him then."
"Okay. Be careful. Goodnight, Maka," Marie waved absentmindedly as she attended to an intoxicated customer. Maka nodded again as she fastened her coat and left the building.
The inn was much warmer than the bar, a revelation that pleased Maka anew no matter how many times it was made. The old stairs creaked as she dragged herself to her room, yawning. She was thankful for a warm, safe bed to sleep in, she thought as she finished one roll and took a bite out of the next. She opened the door to her room, and the remaining bread fell to the ground with a thunk.
"Soul!" her friend was seated on the windowsill, facing the city. At the sound of her voice he turned, flushed, exhausted, and a bit damp, and gave a halfhearted smile. "Where have you been?!" Maka rushed over to the boy.
"Ah, you know. Around," he explained.
"Ah, yes. Around. Where it's impossible for even your closest friend to find you." Despite the bitterness in her voice, Maka hugged Soul tightly. He was cold and wet. "I was so worried about you! Why did you leave?" When no response was offered, Maka backed away. "Why did you leave?" She asked again, with less emotion and more suspicion.
Soul's gaze flitted to the ground and then back up at Maka. "It's my birthday today," he said, by way of explanation.
"Yeah? And?"
"I manifested. I could only do it a little bit at first, just with my arm, but that was enough."
Maka rushed back in to hug her friend again. "Oh, Soul," she whispered, dread rising in her chest. "Oh, God. What are we gonna do?"
"There's no 'we' involved, Maka," Soul returned rationally, although she could feel him shaking. She doubted he was just cold. "I'm going to leave."
"Leave where?"
"Leave here. I'm going to get out of here, and not come back."
"But where would you go?"
"Outside. I'm going to leave the fences. I'm gonna get out of here altogether, out of Death City. I'll go to Las Vegas, maybe," he laughed drily.
"You're gonna get yourself killed," Maka said. Fear was beginning to morph into anger, a fact that became apparent as the level of her voice rose.
"So what. I'll get myself killed if I stay. My situation's shitty all around; I'd rather die trying to do something about it than just sit here and wait for them to come and off me." Maka huffed as Soul shook her off and dumped her on the floor unceremoniously, standing up to dig through the battered trunk at the end of his bed. "What do you take to survive winter in the desert?"
"Not funny, Soul."
"Not joking." He continued to rifle through his belongings as Maka picked herself up.
"It's a terrible idea. You won't make it through one night. And that's not a personal slight toward you," Maka added when he opened his mouth. "There are bounty hunters everywhere, and they go after anything and everything that moves at night."
"There's government agents everywhere too, and sooner or later they'll come around and test all of our blood, perceived human or not."
"That's ridiculous. And even if they do, the inn is safe!"
"It may not always be. Look, do you want to lose another friend to these sickos?"
"No," Maka whispered. "I don't want to lose anyone else to these sickos. And that's why I need you to stay here. You'll be safer."
They sat in silence for a few minutes.
"Can I see it?" Maka asked finally. Soul nodded, closing the trunk before unbuttoning his jacket and pulling it off, revealing his undershirt. Maka shielded her eyes as a sharp flash of light filled the room. She lowered her arm and squinted at the dull shine of a red and black blade. Soul smirked halfheartedly, nodding to his transformed right arm. "Scythe. Pretty cool, huh?"
"Looks like Papa," Maka muttered absently, reaching out and stroking the blade. Soul flinched a little, but let her examine it. Maka's heart sunk further. It wasn't a hallucination or a prank or a terrible dream; Soul had manifested.
"I can transform all the way, but then I just end up laying on the ground kinda awkward and sad. So I decided to just not."
Maka wiped her face with a rough sleeve. "This sucks," she pouted.
"I'm going to leave, Maka. It's not your choice."
Maka deliberated for a few moments before making up her mind. "Then I'm coming with you. I have weapon blood, too." Soul sat up and stared at Maka, ruby eyes piercing her emerald ones.
"You haven't manifested."
"But I turned thirteen last year. I could manifest any time," Maka pointed out.
"Or you could not."
"Soul, Death City is the last remaining concentration of weapon genes in the Americas. Sooner or later, the government will start zoning in on everyone with any amount of weapon blood, not just those that show the physical signs. It's only a matter of time before they start killing off dormant weapons as well."
"Your logic sucks," was all that Soul said. "Like, really sucks. 'Oh, Soul, don't go, you'll be fine if you stay!'" his voice was a cruel imitation at best. "'Oh, Soul, I have to come, they'll kill me if I stay!' You can't come. It's too dangerous. You already tried this once, and you almost died. You're not doing it again."
His words stung. "Whose logic sucks now?"
"I'm not letting you come."
"I'm going to come, Soul," Maka said, smirking slightly. "It's not your choice."
"Fine. I'm leaving at sundown tomorrow to go to the southern fence. If you want to come, be ready and get up. I'm going to go pack some food. You pack some...lady stuff, I guess."
Maka opened her mouth to retort, but Soul was gone already. She turned to look out the window again.
It was snowing.