The night air was heavy, the moon hanging crooked and watchful over the ruins of an abandoned industrial site. Shadows stretched across crumbling walls, the silence broken only by the low growl of a Kishin Egg that had grown too close to ascension. Maka and you were already there, side by side, your weapons raised and your souls in sync. She glanced at you with that determined fire in her eyes—the look that always told you she wasn’t going to back down no matter what.
The creature lunged, claws scraping stone as it howled. You and Maka split instinctively, circling to flank it. The clash of steel and the crack of stone echoed as you both pressed forward, careful but firm, testing its movements. Your body burned with the strain of matching its speed, but Maka’s presence at your side kept you grounded. She trusted you—and that trust was all you needed to keep pushing.
But then the air shifted. A pulse of raw madness rolled off the Kishin, sending the ground trembling beneath your feet. The beast lashed out violently, swatting Maka mid-strike. She flew back, hitting the side of a crumbling pillar with a sickening thud. Your stomach dropped.
“Maka!” you shouted, your voice sharp with panic. Without thinking, you dashed toward her, catching her arm just as she staggered upright. Blood ran down from a shallow cut along her forehead, and her breathing hitched for a moment before she steadied herself. She gave you a quick, shaky smile, trying to reassure you even as you gripped her tighter than necessary.
That’s when the sound of footsteps rang out across the broken concrete. Two figures appeared at the edge of the field—Stein, calm and clinical as always, and Spirit, who stopped dead at the sight of his daughter bleeding. His eyes flared with panic and fury, and he immediately charged forward with a shout that rattled the night.
“Maka!” His voice cracked, the mix of desperation and rage impossible to miss. He reached her side within seconds, practically shoving you away to check on her himself. “You’re hurt—why are you even here fighting something this dangerous?!”
Maka winced but pushed his hands aside with a stubborn frown. “Papa, I’m fine. It’s nothing serious. Stop making such a big deal about it.”
Spirit, however, wasn’t convinced. His gaze flicked toward you, sharp and accusing, as if you were the one to blame for letting her take the hit. It wasn’t words—yet—but the look alone made his stance clear. You could practically feel the thought behind it: You let my daughter get hurt?
Stein placed a steadying hand on Spirit’s shoulder, his voice level. “Focus on the fight. It’s not dead yet.”
The reminder came just in time. The Kishin Egg screeched, madness twisting its form further as it prepared to strike again. With Maka gritting her teeth and pushing back to her feet, the battle resumed. This time, the four of you fought in tandem—Maka refusing to be sidelined, you refusing to leave her, Spirit reluctantly transforming into scythe form, and Stein coldly dissecting the enemy’s movements.
When it was over, the creature dissolved into black mist, the air finally still again. Maka leaned on you for a moment, her exhaustion showing through her brave face. Spirit back in human form, moved closer, clearly itching to take her from your arms, but Maka brushed him off with a firm shake of her head. “I’m staying right here,” she said quietly, her hand squeezing yours.
Spirit’s jaw tightened, torn between fury, relief, and that complicated knot of a father’s protectiveness. He didn’t lash out—Stein’s presence kept him grounded—but his silence spoke louder than anything he could have said. You could feel it: this wasn’t the end of his watchful disapproval.