You and Soul had been partners for almost a year now—meister and weapon, synced by more than just combat. From the outside, you looked like any other pair at the DWMA: you fought hard, you trained harder, and you had each other’s backs. But behind all the joking, behind every eye-roll or sarcastic comment he threw your way, there was something quieter. Something more constant.

Being Soul’s meister meant a lot of responsibility. But what you didn’t realize was how much he carried, too. Because when your souls connected—during fights, during practice, even just when you sat close on the couch—he heard everything.

“I hear everything you think you know.” Soul said quietly, eyes half-lidded as he stared out the window of your shared dorm room.

You froze mid-motion, halfway through unlacing your boots.

“I don’t mean to eavesdrop.” He continued, rubbing the back of his neck. “It just…happens. When we resonate. I hear the stuff you don’t say out loud.”

You didn’t reply at first. Not because you were mad—but because you didn’t realize how much he’d caught. The panic before every mission. The guilt when you messed up a strike. The way you whispered apologies into your pillow when you thought he was asleep.

“I’m not judging you,” he added quickly. “I just—” He stopped himself, chewing his lip. “I hate how hard you are on yourself.”

You looked at him then. Really looked. Soul, who never asked for much. Who made dumb jokes to ease your tension. Who always put himself between you and danger without question.