A/N: Hooray for Maha! I love his character and his role in the game, so I decided to write a quick One-Shot about how he came to be the spirit of Aran's pole arm. Or just how he became a spirit in general. Whatevs :I

Hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: Maha and the rest of Maplestory does not belong to me. If it did, I'd banish the Dual Blades to their own separate server, where they can use their fancy little daggers to cut away at anything they want and not bother us adventurers. Oh, but I do own Mint, the town, the witch, and the plot line. They're all minez X(

Once, a long, long time ago, much before the Black Mage rose to power, there was a quiet village. There was really nothing special about this village; there weren't many specially trained people, later called 'Adventurers', here. It was a village of little income, a small population, and harsh weather. But the people living there were happy nonetheless.

One of the only people with special skills who lived there was a boy named Maha. He had come from a small, average family living in the village. But at age ten, he was specially chosen to be trained. His weapon of choice was a pole arm.

Maha was very strong, and an expert fighter. He became a great adventurer, and a hero to the small village where he lived. Everyone admired him for his bravery and strength. When a monster got into the city and was running amok, the people called Maha. When the people were bored and tired from their long days of work, Maha would show off his great skills and keep them entertained for hours on end. When the people wanted an autograph, Maha was the one to give it.

But Maha had one flaw; he was very arrogant. He thought himself better than anybody else.

This would be his downfall.

One windy autumn morning, Maha was out training on an unused crop field, when along came an elderly woman, walking along a path into town and carrying very heavy-looking bags. She stopped for a few minutes when she approached the young warrior, who was still training hard and paying little attention to the old woman. The woman was small and wrinkly, her arms weak and tired from carrying the bags. After a few minutes of watching the boy train, she spoke.

"Excuse me, young man, are you Maha, the legendary pole arm wielder?"

Maha finally stopped swinging his weapon about long enough to notice the old woman. He gave her a charming smile, always eager to accept compliments. "Why, yes, that would be me."

The woman smiled at him. "You must be so strong to carry such a heavy weapon about all the time!"

"Yes, it is a very heavy weapon," Maha replied, swinging the pole arm around a few more times for good measure.

"Well, since you are so strong, you would not mind helping a tired old woman carry her heavy bags into town, would you? I am sure you are not too busy, and I would appreciate it greatly."

Maha didn't even think about the consequence of his reply as he snootily answered, "I am much too busy to help you. Can't you see that I am training hard? An old woman like you should have more respect for such a superior hero like myself!"

Suddenly, the woman whipped off her cloak that she had wrapped around her body, and transformed before the boy's very eyes. In a swirl of black smoke, the elder had transformed into a witch, with a long, pointy nose, scary eyes, and dark aura swirling around every part of her body.

She opened her mouth and cackled mercilessly. "Foolish, selfish boy! You have failed my test, and now you must pay the price!"

Maha was about to launch forward and attack the witch, but he suddenly felt a terrible, stabbing pain in his head, and he fell to the ground in agony. The pain was spreading to his entire body, making him cry out.

The witch cackled again. "From now on, you will never again be the hero! You will be nothing but a partner; a sidekick! You will forever be trapped in your own selfish realm, with no one to keep you company. Only when you learn your lesson, and a true hero emerges and seeks a spiritual partner, will you once again feel the presence of other human beings!"

Maha was shaking, his eyes shut tight. He felt like his whole body was on fire. And when he tried to open his eyes, he found that he was being encased in a bright, golden light. Had the witch actually set him on fire? But no, something strange was going on. Maha felt the air itself evaporating around him, fading into nothingness. The grass underneath him was fading, too. Was he so numb that he could no longer feel anything? No, it was something much worse.


The witch disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

It seemed like several hours until Maha was again able to move. He sat up slowly, bringing his hand up to clutch his aching head. But when he brought it in front of his face, he gasped. It was glowing gold. Maha looked down at his own body and froze in shock. Everything was gold. His skin, his clothes, his hair, everything. And what's worse was… he was floating. Actually floating a few inches above the ground.

No, Maha thought, No, no this cannot be happening…

He brought his hands up to his temples, and nearly screamed in fear when they went right through his head.

He was transparent.

Maha panicked. What had the witch said? He was a spirit? A spirit of the pole arm? What the hell was that supposed to-?

His pole arm!

Maha scanned the ground for his beloved weapon, and was relieved when he saw it lying a few feet from him. After a few minutes of struggling in the air, he managed to float over to the weapon. But when he tried to pick it up, his hands went right through the weapon. He swore loudly.

Then he had an idea. There was a magic user in town, a healer. Maybe he knew how to fix this!

So, after remorsefully parting from his weapon, he floated into town.

He thought people would panic when they saw their beloved hero glowing gold and floating though the city gates, but to Maha's surprise and horror, they didn't respond in the least bit. In fact, they didn't even acknowledge his presence. Was everyone punished him for mistreating the "old woman" by giving him the silence treatment?

He quickly flew over to the old healer's house. The door was wide open, much to Maha's relief, since he doubted he'd be able to open the door. The healer was sitting at a table, eating his breakfast. Maha flew over to him in a hurry, saying, "Excuse me, but I need your help! I met a witch at the fields today, and just look at what she did to me!"

But the man didn't answer.

Frustrated, Maha floated over the man's food and got right in his face. "Do not ignore me! I am your hero, Maha! I require your help!"

Still, the man didn't answer. He didn't even look at the floating spirit.

Maha cried out in frustration and rushed back outside. His family wouldn't ignore him. They never had before.

Then again, no one had ever ignored him before.

He flew over to his house, and floated through an open window. His mother was in the kitchen, washing clothes, and whistling a happy tune. He rushed right up to her and tried to grab her arm. His hand went right through her.

"Mother, mother! It's your son! Why can't you hear me?"

She kept on whistling.

Panicking even more now, Maha rushed into the workshop next door, where his dad, a blacksmith, was hammering away at something. Maha sat right on his anvil. "Father! Father, it is Maha! Father, please!"


Maha flew at top speed back to his house and through a window on the second story, where his dear little sister, Mint, was playing with her homemade dolls. Maha did his best to kneel down on the floor next to her, though he was still floating an inch or so off the ground. He tried to grab her tiny arms and shake her, pinch her, do anything to make her notice him. But he went right through her.

He got right in her ear and screamed, "Mint, it is your older brother! It is Maha! Please, please notice me! Talk to me, Mint, please!" He looked like a madman, tears running down his golden face and eyes bulging.

But all her attention was focused on her dolls.

Maha was totally and purely invisible to everyone.

Tears coming faster now, the boy flew out the window and into the meadow, where he sat up in a tall tree, trying desperately to remember what the witch had told him. Only when he learned his lesson and a true hero emerged, he would be recognized again? Is that what she said? Then, if so…

"I HAVE LEARNED MY LESSON!" Maha yelled up into the sky. "AND I AM SORRY! NOW, CHANGE ME BACK!"

There was no response.

Maha would never again feel the presence of anyone other than himself. He would have no one to gawk at him as he walked by, no one to show off his skills to, and no one to feel loved by.

That is, until hundreds of years later, when a man was in need of a weapon worthy of a true hero, and a spirit to accompany it.

A/N: Poor Maha. Just thought I'd straighten one thing out: yes, I used male Aran at the end, even though I mentioned how Maha would never again feel love until he met him. No, this does not imply anything. When I said love, I meant, like, appreciation or friendship or something. Yeah…

Anyways! I hope you liked it! Please please please review! I love reviews. I have another Maple fic, one about the Cygnus Knights. I want to write more in the future; mostly about NPCs… because I hate most OCs with a burning passion. No offence to anyone.

Thanks for reading!