Gift Post #7
Title: Squeaky Swing
Recipient: skytyne
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Maka and Tsubaki, with mentions of Black Star, Soul Eater, and Maka's parents.
Summary: Maka believes better things can only be built with new parts, replaceable. But her new friend Tsubaki teaches her that old parts put together can be just as good, if not better.
Notes: Sorry this is so late! I've had no inspiration for a while, and with finals coming up there's been a lot of pressure. But here it is!
She came to this park on the outskirts of Death City quite often, and it seemed like only she knew of its existence, and that aspect made her love it all the more.
It belonged only to her.
Her intense attention to detail made it easy to imagine even when she wandered away from her personal sanctuary. If someone asked her to describe it, she could relay it to the person bit by bit, from the rusted swing in the center that leaned two inches too far to the right to the amount of dandelions springing up beside the crumbling water fountain. The park almost felt like a first love - it possessed a gravitational pull that drew her back time and time again since she’d been a child.
Her parents used to take her here all the time - together. Her right hand held tight to her mother’s left, and her left held tight to her father’s right. Sometimes, her parents would smile at each other and then lift her straight from the ground and make it feel like she flew, soaring while soaked in their once mutual love.
She remembered the time fondly when the swing set still stood straight, sturdy as her life at the time until her parents’ encumbering separation burned it all to shambles. Maka noticed then that the park lost its luster. Weeds of all sorts and shapes erupted from the drying soil and wrapped around the poles that held the swing steadfast, thin as her mother’s fingers once the weight of it all drained her joy and dragged her down.
Her father, of course, remained the same, if not worse - he fluttered away like the silver on the chains beneath the forming rust and moved where the wind took him. She likened the squeaks the seat made under pressure to his own of liberation. Both whiney and sickening, heart-wrenching and discouraging in every way. She didn’t want to put her weight on something she knew contained no real strength.
Like the dandelions breaking beneath her boots. However, where one collapsed, at least a hundred more would grow. She knew that from beneath the negative grew a positive - the scattered seeds strengthened when they came together again in the soil.
That’s why she’d work with her new partner and make him strong, make him reliable. She feared being replaced. Where she broke she’d begin again instead, even better than before. Then, she figured, she wouldn’t just be a weed, but an everlasting rose, dangerous and bold.
“Um, excuse me?”
Sunshine-colored petals floated aimlessly to the ground with the force of her clenched fist.
“You’re crushing that flower.”
Maka looked up to the source of the trembling voice in shock and awe. She dropped the stem as soon as their eyes met from across the field. Where it landed, she thought quickly, there’d be a hundred more. “How did you find me here?” she asked defensively, breathlessly backing up until she toppled backwards onto the squeaky swingset. She felt like she looked toward a tangible ghost, but friendlier and unlike the many she’d faced in the past - tall and curvy, with gentle blue eyes and a wavering smile.
“I come here kind of often.” The slender girl scuffed her shoes nervously on the dirt in front of her. “You’re also a new student at Shibusen, right? Soul Eater-san’s weapon-meister? I’ve seen you around, here and there.” She cleared her throat. “Not to sound like a stalker or anything, but I’ve seen you here a few times, too. I’ve always wanted to come talk to you but felt to shy to do it. I only did it today because you seemed angry, and I thought I’d help.”
With any other person, Maka might’ve glanced askance and turned away. But something about this one seemed different, genuine; she caved. “Yeah.” She stepped forward and bowed slightly. “Albarn. Albarn Maka.” She held out her hand.
The girl seemed both ecstatic and relieved, which made the meister smile as well. “Nakatsukasa Tsubaki. Nice to meet you, Albarn-san.” Tsubaki bowed in return and took her hand, and shook it softly.
They ended up both sitting on the wooden swing together, discussing their new, charismatic partners and figured they’d end up the best of friends judging by their compatible, carefree personalities on rules and relationships. Maka discovered Tsubaki to be not that many years older than her, from a family with ninja blood running through their veins, and extremely tolerant. More tolerant, surprisingly, than she. To deal with Black Star meant an incredibly large heart, after all. She and her partner had stumbled upon this place by accident and made it their thinking spot from time to time - “When Black Star actually bothers to use his brain,” his partner joked.
Tsubaki discovered Maka to be a secret hopeless romantic, an author of all sorts of brooding poetry, and kind-hearted. Her courage seemed so strong it radiated from her like a soul wavelength, and her presence gave the weapon some sort of unbelievable hope she never thought possible.
“So earlier,” Tsubaki began, “why did you seem so angry and out of it? If you don’t mind me asking.”
Maka fiddled with one of her pigtails and sighed, releasing a wind as soft and as silent as the cool breeze that swayed around them. “Hmm.” She took a deep breath, as if she were about to dive into cold waters. “I used to come here with my parents often. When it still, you know, looked like a park.”
Her new friend nodded and smiled encouragingly.
“After the divorce, though, we never came here anymore. I missed it. So I’ve been coming on my own almost every day, but it’s never felt the same. Lately, it’s been bothering me even more - my dad’s always trying to get me to forgive him but I won’t. I have to be strong.” She pulled her legs up and rested her head on her knees and stared sadly ahead, as if watching the memories replay without her in them. “But sometimes it’s hard.”
“I know,” Tsubaki whispered. She placed her hand around one of Maka’s and squeezed. “Just know this kind of battle is not one you ever have to fight alone. We all go through this sort of thing sometimes. It’ll always be okay in the end if you believe it will be.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, they both heard an intense creaking and stared up at the orange-dusted chains. The seat collapsed underneath the doubled pressure and they both fell to the ground in a soil-coated heap, laughing the whole way.
“See?” Tsubaki asked. “We all fall down.” She got up and dusted herself off, reaching out her hand. “But together, I’m sure we can fix it and make it better than before, right?”
The meister nodded eagerly and took her friend’s hand. “All right.” Much better, she thought, than to be replaced.
They got to work on the swing, using all the old parts to make something entirely new.
Recipient: skytyne
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Maka and Tsubaki, with mentions of Black Star, Soul Eater, and Maka's parents.
Summary: Maka believes better things can only be built with new parts, replaceable. But her new friend Tsubaki teaches her that old parts put together can be just as good, if not better.
Notes: Sorry this is so late! I've had no inspiration for a while, and with finals coming up there's been a lot of pressure. But here it is!
She came to this park on the outskirts of Death City quite often, and it seemed like only she knew of its existence, and that aspect made her love it all the more.
It belonged only to her.
Her intense attention to detail made it easy to imagine even when she wandered away from her personal sanctuary. If someone asked her to describe it, she could relay it to the person bit by bit, from the rusted swing in the center that leaned two inches too far to the right to the amount of dandelions springing up beside the crumbling water fountain. The park almost felt like a first love - it possessed a gravitational pull that drew her back time and time again since she’d been a child.
Her parents used to take her here all the time - together. Her right hand held tight to her mother’s left, and her left held tight to her father’s right. Sometimes, her parents would smile at each other and then lift her straight from the ground and make it feel like she flew, soaring while soaked in their once mutual love.
She remembered the time fondly when the swing set still stood straight, sturdy as her life at the time until her parents’ encumbering separation burned it all to shambles. Maka noticed then that the park lost its luster. Weeds of all sorts and shapes erupted from the drying soil and wrapped around the poles that held the swing steadfast, thin as her mother’s fingers once the weight of it all drained her joy and dragged her down.
Her father, of course, remained the same, if not worse - he fluttered away like the silver on the chains beneath the forming rust and moved where the wind took him. She likened the squeaks the seat made under pressure to his own of liberation. Both whiney and sickening, heart-wrenching and discouraging in every way. She didn’t want to put her weight on something she knew contained no real strength.
Like the dandelions breaking beneath her boots. However, where one collapsed, at least a hundred more would grow. She knew that from beneath the negative grew a positive - the scattered seeds strengthened when they came together again in the soil.
That’s why she’d work with her new partner and make him strong, make him reliable. She feared being replaced. Where she broke she’d begin again instead, even better than before. Then, she figured, she wouldn’t just be a weed, but an everlasting rose, dangerous and bold.
“Um, excuse me?”
Sunshine-colored petals floated aimlessly to the ground with the force of her clenched fist.
“You’re crushing that flower.”
Maka looked up to the source of the trembling voice in shock and awe. She dropped the stem as soon as their eyes met from across the field. Where it landed, she thought quickly, there’d be a hundred more. “How did you find me here?” she asked defensively, breathlessly backing up until she toppled backwards onto the squeaky swingset. She felt like she looked toward a tangible ghost, but friendlier and unlike the many she’d faced in the past - tall and curvy, with gentle blue eyes and a wavering smile.
“I come here kind of often.” The slender girl scuffed her shoes nervously on the dirt in front of her. “You’re also a new student at Shibusen, right? Soul Eater-san’s weapon-meister? I’ve seen you around, here and there.” She cleared her throat. “Not to sound like a stalker or anything, but I’ve seen you here a few times, too. I’ve always wanted to come talk to you but felt to shy to do it. I only did it today because you seemed angry, and I thought I’d help.”
With any other person, Maka might’ve glanced askance and turned away. But something about this one seemed different, genuine; she caved. “Yeah.” She stepped forward and bowed slightly. “Albarn. Albarn Maka.” She held out her hand.
The girl seemed both ecstatic and relieved, which made the meister smile as well. “Nakatsukasa Tsubaki. Nice to meet you, Albarn-san.” Tsubaki bowed in return and took her hand, and shook it softly.
They ended up both sitting on the wooden swing together, discussing their new, charismatic partners and figured they’d end up the best of friends judging by their compatible, carefree personalities on rules and relationships. Maka discovered Tsubaki to be not that many years older than her, from a family with ninja blood running through their veins, and extremely tolerant. More tolerant, surprisingly, than she. To deal with Black Star meant an incredibly large heart, after all. She and her partner had stumbled upon this place by accident and made it their thinking spot from time to time - “When Black Star actually bothers to use his brain,” his partner joked.
Tsubaki discovered Maka to be a secret hopeless romantic, an author of all sorts of brooding poetry, and kind-hearted. Her courage seemed so strong it radiated from her like a soul wavelength, and her presence gave the weapon some sort of unbelievable hope she never thought possible.
“So earlier,” Tsubaki began, “why did you seem so angry and out of it? If you don’t mind me asking.”
Maka fiddled with one of her pigtails and sighed, releasing a wind as soft and as silent as the cool breeze that swayed around them. “Hmm.” She took a deep breath, as if she were about to dive into cold waters. “I used to come here with my parents often. When it still, you know, looked like a park.”
Her new friend nodded and smiled encouragingly.
“After the divorce, though, we never came here anymore. I missed it. So I’ve been coming on my own almost every day, but it’s never felt the same. Lately, it’s been bothering me even more - my dad’s always trying to get me to forgive him but I won’t. I have to be strong.” She pulled her legs up and rested her head on her knees and stared sadly ahead, as if watching the memories replay without her in them. “But sometimes it’s hard.”
“I know,” Tsubaki whispered. She placed her hand around one of Maka’s and squeezed. “Just know this kind of battle is not one you ever have to fight alone. We all go through this sort of thing sometimes. It’ll always be okay in the end if you believe it will be.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, they both heard an intense creaking and stared up at the orange-dusted chains. The seat collapsed underneath the doubled pressure and they both fell to the ground in a soil-coated heap, laughing the whole way.
“See?” Tsubaki asked. “We all fall down.” She got up and dusted herself off, reaching out her hand. “But together, I’m sure we can fix it and make it better than before, right?”
The meister nodded eagerly and took her friend’s hand. “All right.” Much better, she thought, than to be replaced.
They got to work on the swing, using all the old parts to make something entirely new.