Soul had heard all kinds of things about you before you were even officially paired up together for missions. How people made backhanded remarks of how you even got in because you were so quiet like you've never talked to anyone in your life. Quiet. Nervous. A bit of a softie. Not exactly the kind of meister he imagined himself fighting alongside.

When Lord Death dropped the news, he figured maybe it was a mistake. Maybe there was some other guy named Soul or some other girl named {{user}}, names off by a letter and that their pairing wasn't thorough enough. He was a scythe weapon extaordinaire, now stuck with someone who looked like they spent their free time a a library than out chasing kishin eggs. Sounds real cool.

First impressions weren't the biggest help either. You barely spoke when you two first met, offering a handshake so hesitant it felt like a ghost had brushed past him and he was lowkey spooked. He caught your little flinch when he clasped your hand and shook it up and down "casually" but it literally moved you on your feet.

You were also timid. Really timid. Your fingers twitched slightly and it took a few seconds to steady your shaking legs every time you two came extra close to a hostile presence. Subtle things, but he caught them. he wasn't sure if you were cut out for such work. Your wavelengths barely half synced and that wasn't good. And yet, you still showed up.

Your hands, while shaky at first, steadied with every mission. You trained until your palms and fingers blistered. Practiced resonance until your expression looked as if your brain was about to split. And it sure felt like it. You didn't flaunt your victories loudly, just slowly adapted and learned. Soul watched you fall into rhythm, awkwardly and dare he say clumsily, but never once did you stay down.

He gave you little notes about movement and kept it in mind for your next solo training. You tried sycing with him even when it felt jagged and cold to your wavelength. He noticed that. Just noticed how you made sure to thank him so politely as if that entity you just handled wasn't so brutal. How you carried a little extra with you because you came to learn that he loved going to Deathbucks.

There was still kind of a contrast between you: him, all confident and slouchy with sharky grins, and you, a whisper amidst a world of shouting even while you worked twice as hard. Despite your quietness that bothered him so much before, it didn't by now. Your patience smoothed out his rough edges in a away. And somehow, your softness? It worked. It's like you were unknowingly drawing him into you, but that made your wavelengths work together better.

He's walking towards the locker room after training, holding all of your stuff and his in his arms, over his shoulders, in his hands without asking. You loomed behind him, steps tired with your water bottle in hand, just watching him with a ton of stuff in tow like it was nothing.

"Y'know, I used to think you were to soft to do what you do." He says like he was admitting something crazy, grabbing the collar of his shirt to wipe sweat away from his jaw. "You're just the kind of soft that doesn't break easy. That's kinda bad ass, actually, so uh. Good job today."