The wind bites and tears at her clothes. It blows sand into her eyes, mouth, and hair, stinging against her skin like an insect swarm. Her eyes water before she blinks, wiping the dirt away, finally turning her gaze from the landscape and back to Maka and Free. She prepares an explanation, an apology perhaps. She has to say something.

Maka's fist collides with her face before she says anything. Pain splits across her face and warm blood follows it, accompanied by the harsh cracking sound of her nose breaking. The sand adds to the pain when the blow knocks her backwards, throwing her back to the ground, knocking the wind out of her.

"You killed him!" Maka screams, drawing back her bloodied fist. Eruka attempts to scramble to her feet, but the sand slips around beneath her. Maka jumps on her, pinning down her chest between her legs, slamming her fist into Eruka's cheek. "He's gone and everything's ruined and it's all your fault!"

Free grabs Maka suddenly, wrapping his hands around her shoulders and pulling her off of Eruka. With a growl, he throws her over the sand, where she tumbles for a moment until she lays face down, her chest quivering.

A muffled scream barely breaks through Eruka's fingers as she holds her hand over her mouth, tasting blood. She glances up at Free with eyes squinted and twitching in pain, but Free scarcely glances at her before turning and walking away as well.

The three of them form a triangle in the desolate landscape, each of them a point in the shape. Maka shakes with sobs, her fists clenching the sand after she picks herself up on her knees. Free sits down on the ground, his broad back facing Eruka.

Coughing blood into her hand, she sits up slowly. The sand blowing into her face is now getting caught in the sticky, smeared blood next to her lips, and she brushes it away wearily.

She's right, the voice whispers. It's louder than ever before, digging into her head like claws. Look at this. This is what you wanted, isn't it? A world where you don't need to be afraid. Now there's no one left to fear.

Eruka shakes her head, facing the empty desert, staring with wet eyes at nothing.

Yet now your only remaining friend has abandoned you. You used him, didn't you? Just like Medusa.

She sniffs. Small, dark, wet circles form in the sand below her face. "No," she barely whispers, but she knows her demons are right.

He trusted you. He saw you as a friend, possibly more, but you never bothered to give him a chance. He was just a tool, wasn't he? Something for you to use.

"N-no," she says again, wrapping her arms around herself.

Medusa taught you well, didn't she?

Eruka sucks in a breath through her teeth. Those disgusting words keep growing louder with every sentence, slashing her like a whip's repetitious, punishing blows.

She can just hear her; Medusa's taunting voice, blending in with her thoughts. The words even sound like hers, degrading and cruel. It's all too easy to imagine Medusa saying them.

You've turned out just like me. Look at everything you've done, all the destruction you've caused. I almost feel proud of you.

Eruka picks her head up slowly. The swirling sand seems to form her visage, standing over her with her arms crossed and her signature reptilian smirk over her lips, which move to form the words that plague her.

"You're alone now. I'm the only one left to speak to you," she purrs. "You don't need them. The Mizune, Free, even that young meister—they're all worthless anyway. Alone, you're safe."

Her voice and Eruka's thoughts line up almost too perfectly. She squints at the imaginary specter; a fragment of a woman long dead. Yet her memories, her words, her influence still lay buried in Eruka's head and soul. A part of her still lives in her, like a splinter buried deep beneath Eruka's skin.

"It's you," she says gradually. "The voice that keeps saying I've failed. It's you."

The pretend image does nothing to reply. Hesitatingly, haltingly, Eruka rises to her feet. Her boots crunch on the sand beneath her. She remembers exactly how tall Medusa was; Eruka's shorter than her, even when standing at her full height, but she still stares into Medusa's vacant yet glittering golden eyes.

"It was always you," she dares to snap at her. "You did all this to me. You're my doubt. Leftovers of your voice are still in here," she points to her head, "still talking. You did a lot of that." The image is fading, growing weaker. The roar of the wind cuts off Eruka's voice from anyone else.

"I won't listen anymore. Not to your influence, not to your lies, not to your criticisms," she says. Her fists begin to clench, but she takes a deep breath. She's getting worked up again, all nerves, twitching fingers, and misty eyes. Even standing up for herself shakes her. But drawing all her emotions to the surface and giving words to them also brings memories, which sting her eyes and cause her to tremble.

Yet she's not ashamed. While the wind still whips around her, the world seems to slow down as she closes her eyes and feels the sand beneath her boots, the air in her lungs, the gentle force of gravity keeping her tethered to the ground. She is here. She is solid. Medusa is but the remnant of a voice, a faded picture of a witch long dead. Eruka is real. Her heart beats and her eyelids flutter. Her eyes open to nothing but sand and a gray sky, but somehow it feels brighter than it did before she blocked out the world and became one with it at the same time.

"You don't control my future anymore," she whispers one final blow to her imaginary witch.

She moves bit by bit, turning to see silhouettes of Free and Maka through the storm. Fighting back the wind, she steps towards Free, squinting to try and keep the sand from her eyes.

Free doesn't move when she sets her hand on his shoulder.

"Free?" she says, trying to be heard above the wind. "I'm sorry."

His head turns slightly in her direction; he's listening. For a moment, she can almost hear the voice whispering the many ways she could mess up, but she refuses to acknowledge it.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "I was awful and treated you like dirt, but I want you to know that…" she hesitates. Quickly, she breathes again, feeling the wind against her cheek and the sun's warmth on her skin as it pokes through cracks in the clouds. "I want you to know… You mean a lot to me."

She sees one of his eyes now, the brown one that gazes at her with a bland contemplation. It makes her fingers shake slightly, but she keeps her voice steady. "I lashed out, I was angry, but I didn't mean it, and I wouldn't know what to do without you, so… Can you forgive me?"

He turns from her again, his shoulders slumping, and Eruka pulls her hands back. She's about to back away, a pathetic croak rising up her throat, when he reaches for her arm and yanks her towards him. She squeaks as he stands abruptly, pulling her to his chest and crushing her against him. She thinks he's apologizing, blubbering about how sorry he is, but one of his arms is tight around her head and she can barely breathe, not to mention hear what he's saying.

"Free," she mutters, her flushed face squished against his ribcage as she struggles to move her arms. "I can't breathe, you oversized lapdog!"

With one final, crushing squeeze – she swears she hears bones snapping – he releases her, holding her at arm's length, his hands on her shoulders. He smiles at her; a warm, comforting smile, and Eruka meets his eyes tentatively, setting one of her hands on his.

"Does that mean I'm forgiven?" she asks quietly. He chuckles and uses his free hand to ruffle her hat.

"Of course," he grins while Eruka squawks in protest. "I'm sorry I lost my temper too."

Eruka stomps backward, straightening her hat as best she can in the wild wind. "No problem," she mumbles, but with a warm smile on her lips. It takes courage for her to stretch her arm and weave her fingers between his, nestling their palms together, but just knowing he's there for her again makes her a little bit braver, a little bit stronger.

She's never seen his cheeks turn that shade of red. She wonders if she's crossed a line, until his fingers latch onto hers like he's afraid she'd die in an instant if he ever let go. His hand dwarfs hers and practically envelops it.

"Come on," he says, clearing his throat, not meeting her eyes as he scratches the back of his neck nervously. "Let's grab the meister and get out of here."

In spite of the desolation around them, Eruka finds herself beaming. I missed you so much, she thinks, unspoken. "Okay," is all she says.

The garden sits peacefully, just how they left it. No blood on the ground, no arguing or screaming sounding through the hedges – everything's quiet.

Quiet until the back door to the nearby mansion slams shut, releasing one young boy from the stifling clutches of his piano lessons. Soul's shoes kick up grass as he races across the yard, his heart intact and energetically pumping blood through his veins, his face the picture of joy. He laughs, rolling down the hill, staining his white shirt with the green marks of freshly-cut grass, getting leaves caught in his snowy hair. He's unaware of the frog watching him from under a bush, and he's unaware of how important he is to the world. For now, he's alive, and he fills his living lungs with the fresh air of a cloudless summer morning.

Free leaps away from the circle as soon as it stops moving, grinning almost manically.

"I am never getting back on that thing!" he gleefully howls at the sky. Eruka glances upwards, catching the first tinges of pink as morning begins to dust the clouds in a pastel glow. Going back just a minute before their first arrival erased all evidence of their first trip from Soul's garden entirely, and as proof, the city stands intact around them. The DWMA rises high above the other buildings, a solid pinnacle and testament to Death's strength. No airships, no madness wafting like a virus through the air, and no snakes. It's as if none of that ever happened.

And in this world, it hasn't.

Maka jumps up, her eyes darting around the alley. "Where is he?!" she says, a mix of excitement and anger in her high-pitched voice. Eruka glances at her passively as she stands from the circle, brushing some of the leftover sand from her hair with her fingers.

"He's probably asleep in his room," she says. "He won't remember any of our travels. Technically, he never came with us-!" she tries to explain as Maka rushes off, her coat flailing behind her in the morning breeze, and Eruka sighs and places her hands on her hips.

"She couldn't even manage a 'thank you,'" she mumbles, plopping herself down on a nearby crate. She squirms a little when she realizes that its surface is covered in dew.

Free watches Maka turn the corner to the other side of the building. "She's just happy Soul's back," he smiles. "You know, I kind of feel like I understand them better now."

Eruka rolls her eyes. "Don't you get sappy on me," she snaps, folding one leg over the other haughtily. "She's still a meister. It's not like that's changed."

Free sits down across from her, crossing his legs under him on the cobblestone. "But you've changed," he says. Eruka's tight lips loosen as she gazes at him.

"Plus, I've learned that we're a lot like them," Free adds. "I don't agree with everything they say, and I don't think we'll ever be best friends," he gags as he makes quotation marks in the air, causing Eruka to giggle. "But I dunno. I mean, we all have someone we love. That's something we have in common."

Eruka's giggle dies out and a blush spreads across her face fast enough that her breath can't keep up, and it takes her a moment to remember to exhale. Free's not even looking at her, instead he's seemingly distracted by a window above them, watching it as if it's going to start moving across the wall.

"I can hear them up there," he says. "Maka found Soul. He's alive."

Eruka tries to subtly fan her face with her hand. "Yeah. Good for him."

Free turns back to her and she snaps her hand behind her back. "So what are we going to do now?" he asks. She shrugs.

"Go back to the Mizune, I guess. I mean, we tried everything. I don't think we have much hope of getting a better life," she sighs.

Free tilts his head. "I meant right now," he clarifies. "Are we going to just sit here or are we going to actually do something?"

Of course that's what he meant, Eruka thinks to herself, rising to her feet. "Well, I guess we should destroy the circle," she says. "You know, so no one else gets any ideas."

Free nods while Eruka sets her hands down on the circle's edge, staring across her creation one last time. In a way, it feels like destroying a work of art and disowning all the time she put into it, but she knows this is for the better. Even if no one else can use the circle, other witches would be able to copy its design if she lets it be.

So in a flash of light, the chalk of the circle floats off of the ground, where it's quickly snatched up by the wind and scattered across the sky, leaving nothing behind but a few stray fragments of chalk dust. Eruka stares at the shards of her circle as they're borne away from her, carried into the air and out of sight. She doesn't stop watching them until she can see them no longer, and even then her eyes still remain fixed on the sky as if they could somehow come back.

She only moves when Free taps her on the shoulder, drawing her attention, and she turns around to see where he's pointing with his other hand. Soul and Maka walk towards them, Soul looking wary, Maka appearing hesitant but still confident.

"Eruka Frog," she says, holding her head high. Eruka crosses her arms, watching her closely, and she sees Free tense out of the corner of her eye, ready to defend her. "I am… Grateful," she forces the words through her teeth as if it physically pains her to be kind to a witch, "For how you did the right thing today."

Eruka scoffs, frowning slightly. Maka may be a ball of rage compressed into a gangly teenager, but of course she's still a mushy little meister, obsessed with "virtue" and "the right thing."

"So I'm willing to offer you a chance," Maka adds.

Suddenly Eruka's negative thoughts towards her are thrown out the window and smashed into pieces on the lawn – pieces that she'll probably reassemble later, but for now Maka's got her attention.

"What kind of chance?"

Eruka can still smell the smoke, though it's almost overpowered by the scent of the now-empty takeout boxes still sitting on the table.

Almost.

They should really eat healthier, but whenever she tries to cook, Eruka always ends up almost burning down the apartment. Plus seeing Free discover sesame chicken was like watching him zealously convert to a new religion. She never finishes her boxes, anyway; she doesn't have that big of an appetite, so Free always cleans them out for her. She does find some entertainment in eating the fortune cookies, though.

"Try new things," she reads the slip of paper out loud. "Really? That's my fortune?"

"You tried bourbon chicken," Free points out from the couch. "Does that count?"

Eruka huffs, tossing the paper to the side. "It's not even a real fortune. It's just vague advice."

"But it's good vague advice," Free says. "You should try new things. Mostly new foods."

Eruka looks over at him. He's sprawled across the couch, his arms behind his head, one leg hanging down to the floor.

"So you can eat them if I don't like them," she says. He smirks.

"Exactly."

With a small blush, Eruka wonders for a moment when that smirk of his began to release butterflies in her stomach whenever he showed it to her.

No words are spoken for a few minutes. Free's eyes close, and Eruka assumes he's sleeping while she cleans the trash from the table. Takeout boxes, plastic soy sauce packets, flimsy wooden chopsticks. They've got to start some better eating habits or Eruka's sure that she and Free will singlehandedly cause the Death City landfill to overflow.

Death City. She pauses for a moment, hovering over the trashcan, in the middle of drawing the full bag from the bin. It still feels weird to say that she lives among meisters and weapons. Of course, anything's an improvement from Medusa's former home, but Soul and Maka's apartment is just down the hall. Death himself lives in the same city she now calls home.

"Hey, are you going to actually take out the trash or just stare at it? I'm almost jealous," Free chuckles, wrapping his arms around her from behind. His touch is warm and envelops her like a soft, firm blanket, and Eruka leans instinctively into his chest.

"I was just thinking about things," she says softly. Free hms slightly, a sign for her to continue. "That meeting tomorrow is making me nervous."

Free hugs her closer, his strong arms around her waist. "You've done it plenty of times before. I'm sure you'll do great," he tells her.

She sighs. "Yeah, but I'm not making much progress," she admits. "I've been going to these meetings for over a month now, and nothing seems to have changed."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, but Eruka can feel the warmth of his breath in her hair and the movement of his chest against her back.

"Well, no one said this would be easy," he says finally. "You're actually carving out your own future, instead of just trying to make a quick jump there. It's hard, but we both agreed in the beginning that it would be worth it, remember?"

She nods mutely. Of course she remembers; Maka won't let her forget.

"It doesn't feel right though," she murmurs. "Like I've failed. Like something's missing."

"You haven't failed," Free says quickly. "You've succeeded in ways no other witch has. You're really important, Eruka. Not just to me."

Her blush comes back, fiercer this time. "I'm really not," she squeaks. Free scoffs.

"Of course you are. First, who saved the world?"

Eruka frowns. "By fixing her own mess?" she mutters, but Free unwinds one arm and pokes her cheek.

"You did. Second, who's the important witch approved by Death to be an ambassador for her kind, maybe even helping to save her entire race?"

Eruka shifts on her feet slightly. "I'm not important," she says meekly. Free suddenly lifts her in the air, holding her above his head as Eruka squeaks in surprise.

"Not putting you down until you say you're important!" he beams. Eruka splutters unintelligibly, and Free tilts his ear towards her. "Can't hear you," he teases.

Eruka's legs flail around. "I'm important! I'm important, you giant mutt, so put me down!"

Free laughs, but he lets her down softly, her socks gently settling back down on the floor.

"You're important," he repeats, poking her nose. "Don't ever forget that, or I'll hold you in the air until you shout so much about your own greatness that even Black Star will be baffled."

Eruka finds herself smiling at her loveable idiot. "I don't doubt that," she says. She still isn't entirely content, but at least she has him by her side.

Free doesn't reply, but he watches her closely. She meets his eyes, relaxing in the smooth brown color of one, and the mystery of the other. Slowly, wordlessly, he brings his hand to her face, his touch igniting what seems like flames across her cheeks that only grow warmer when he runs his thumb along her lip, her eyes widening as his gaze moves from her eyes to her mouth.

"… May I?" he says quietly, barely a whisper. "It… You know, it might help you feel better."

Eruka chuckles in spite of herself. "Obviously that's the only reason you'd ever want to kiss me," she jokes. Free grins sheepishly.

"Well, maybe I was making excuses because you're cute," he confesses.

She smiles, admiring how his own blush lights up his face, when he scoops his arms under hers and lifts her up once again, hoisting her up to his eye level as he holds her to his chest. He waits for a moment, looking over her face with an intense admiration that has her feeling, for the first time in her life, priceless.

"So can I?" he breathes. She winds her arms around his neck, bringing their faces even closer.

"No one's stopping you," murmurs Eruka, her lips barely moving.

He kisses her with a surprising tenderness, and it's as if the world suddenly clicks into place.

Thank you all for reading! I'd like to say thanks to khaleesimaka, jcrycolr3wradcse, and piercelovewonton for their help with beta work, encouragement, and lovely art. This fic wouldn't be here without you! (Be sure to check out piercelovewonton's art for this fic on tumblr.) I also owe the inspiration for this fic to "The Cutie Re-mark."

Metamorphosis was a very personal fic for me. I began writing it when I was at a bad point in my life, and some of my struggles were projected through Eruka. The constant fear of messing up, of not being enough, but still wanting to make something of yourself, is something I've faced often. Even the remnant of Medusa's voice inside Eruka's head was based of experience - sometimes people can say hurtful things so much that they stick with you, even blending with your own thoughts to the point that you can't tell what's your voice and what's their influence. But trust me: that voice is not your own, and you are so much more than it. It may take a while to begin to ignore it, and recovery is never a quick process. I'm still trying to get better, but that's the key word: trying. Genuinely trying is the best thing you can do for yourself.

I hope all my readers have a wonderful day, and keep on fighting. Your future is in your hands.