Hello, darlings :3 Just a heads up, this was originally a fanfiction for my English class, so if you see and random explanations, please bear with me X3 Please, critique! I really want to get better! I'd rather have too harsh a critic than none at all! BYEEEEEEEE 3

Dear Humanity,

Hello, my name is Death. You've probably heard of me before, but I doubt you've seen me. No, I'm not a grotesque figure cloaked in black, wielding a scythe. In fact, I actually appear differently to most people. I could be a living being, such as a soldier in the foe's uniform. Perhaps I could be an object as well, say, a bullet. Oh, but please, do not be afraid of me today, for now I have only come to tell a story. Allow me to set the picture:

1889 London. Ciel is accused of murder.

There was a loud crash as the teacup hit the table. "Sebastian, how could you let this happen?!" exclaimed Ciel, furious upon hearing he had been framed. Sebastian simply stood, smirking as his master droned on and on. "I need this accusation lifted at once! Is that clear? This is an order!" he declared righteously. My goodness, that expression he had. Simply priceless on such a small person. "Yes, my lord," replied Sebastian emotionlessly, although silently laughing. Ciel slapped him, "Wipe that smile off your face!" he shouted, undignified. "I'm beginning to wonder if I can even trust you. For all I know, you could have set this up just for your own entertainment," he added, accenting the last word. "I have not done such a thing, Bocchan. You know I never lie," replied the butler smugly. "Oh really, now?" inquired Ciel. "I expect a full report on every piece of evidence available. Immediately." Sebastian unsheathed a rather long list of evidence. "Good, but make it short. You better not bore me to death," said Ciel, yawning. "Of course, sir. To make my point, I believe there were many criminals that were mysteriously murdered. No one knows how or why, but somehow the blame has shifted to you." Ciel sat quietly, thinking. "Who would want my name dragged through the mud?"

"Who, indeed? Well, that information is quite costly," stated a familiar voice. From the shadows of the room a young Chinese man, accompanied by whom he claims to be his "little sister," spoke up. Lau and Ranmao. Ciel chuckled, "Well, Lau, how much will it be?" The newcomer put a cigarette into his mouth. "That depends," he began darkly. Come to think of it, the man did specialize in foreign trade. Particularly that of which contradicts the law... "-what are we talking about?" Oblivious. As always. The young lord face-palmed, while Sebastian spoke for him. "The murder case involving Bocchan." "Oh!" exclaimed Lau, "All I know is that the guy who reported the Earl was some man dressed all in white murmuring something about 'Kill all the sinners!' or something like that. Right, Ranmao?" "Yes, Lord Lau," she replied in monotone. 'Grey, it has to be him," thought Ciel.

The butler later ushered Lau and Ranmao to the door, upon Ciel's request. "Bocchan," Sebastian said, "I think there's someone we need to interrogate next."

The morgue shook with laughter, pictures falling from the walls, and fragile objects falling from the shelves. "Oh, laughter is simply delightful! Far better than money could ever be!" exclaimed the Undertaker.

"So, Earl, what do you need today?" asked the man. "I would like to see the bodies of the victims," the boy replied calmly. Despite his age, the young lord is quite good at concealing what little fear he has. That is, if he has any at all. "Of course," replied Undertaker. He brings them out. "It appears that the victims all have one thing in common; they all had some sort of connection to you, my lord," said Sebastian, looking through the profiles of the victims. "Is that so?" Ciel pondered, looking over the bodies carefully. They showed little to no signs of injuries. Ah, if only I had a voice to speak the culprit's name. "Strange...Undertaker, what else do you know?" The man simply laughed, turning away from the others to pick up a set of die. Ciel could almost feel the change of mood. "Earl, you're good at games, no?" inquired Undertaker. "Bocchan is an exceptional game player, I assure you," replied Sebastian. Undertaker hummed "London bridge," softly. Coincidentally, Ciel was very much associated with that particular tune...he flashed back to his childhood. Playing London Bridge, running between his mother and beloved aunt Angelina as they captured him in their arms. He must have been no more than five years old at the time. The way he smiled and laughed, he would never know such happiness ever again...Ciel awoke from his trance upon Undertaker rattling the die in his hands. "Life is a game, Ciel." "Lifeisagame, Ciel," hisauntoncetoldhim. "The ending won't always be what you expect." "Neverforget, Ciel, thatallyouhavetodoiskeeptryingandnevergiveup." The two voices rang in his head, blending together. In a flash, Undertaker stood right in front of Ciel, face-to-face. "Make your move," he concluded dramatically, dropping the die at the young lord's feet.

Ciel left, Sebastian trailing behind. "Sebastian, the only thing able to make such clean, bloodless, and almost invisible wounds is a-" "-shinigami," Sebastian finished. "Undertaker did say the outcome would be unexpected, didn't he? Doesn't that mean that Eric is always a possibility?" asked Ciel. Sebastian shook his head, "Not likely. All the arrows could be pointing to him, but he is without a doubt deceased." The young lord, however, chooses to look into the case. The one man still alive that was associated with Eric was the Viscount of Druitt. So, of course, the young lord and his butler went to spy. Ciel found a window on the first floor to peek through. Whilst doing so, he saw a familiar man through the window. 'That...that man...!' to complete the thought, the frightened Ciel had seen the man lay dead at the morgue that very afternoon. The man was walking merrily, as if he had never been hurt. Wait, he was walking towards a covered cage, pulling the cover off to reveal-a young and terrified Ciel. The memory came rushing back like a river; being trapped in the cage for weeks, being pinned down by the crazy man's henchmen as they approached the poor boy with a red-hot brandishing iron. They treated him like an animal, and he would never forget that. The Ciel outside of the window stretched a hand for his back, running his hand over the horrible scar. He tried to choke back a yelp of pain as he spoke. "Sebastian," he began, hopping down from the window perch, "there is definitely a shinigami involved in this."

Ciel and Sebastian returned to the morgue to interrogate the Undertaker once more. Ah, yes, the scene had been set to perfection; Undertaker had said that the culprit would be unexpected, but this was not the only clue. Let us rewind, shall we? Inaflash, UndertakerstoodrightinfrontofCiel, face-to-face. "Makeyourmove," heconcludeddramatically, droppingthedieattheyounglord'sfeet. What evidence I have failed to put forth was the fact that, due to Undertaker being a great deal taller than Ciel, he had to bend down to meet the young lord's eyes. This caused his bangs to fall away from his face, thus revealing his toxic yellow-green eyes. The eyes of a shinigami. His eyes were battered and almost foggy, probably from many years of hard work and sadness. Across his eyes stretched a ravenous scar, most likely a reminder of a horrid fight the Undertaker took part in.

Ciel casually entered the main room of the morgue, Sebastian lurking on his heels. "Undertaker," the young lord began, "I believe you have done me a disservice." "Oh?" the Undertaker clearly was not surprised by the young lord's conclusion. "What would the be? No no, wait, don't tell me," he turned to walk towards the back of the room to retrieve a jar. He opened the lid, presenting the contents to Ciel. "Biscuit, my lord?" Ciel felt that he was mocking Sebastian. Said demon stiffened, not one to take it lightly upon being mocked. Inside the jar were dog treats. *Note: among many other strange habits, Undertaker does eat dog treats on the occasion. However, in this one particular situation, he is poking fun at Ciel. His actions say, 'A reward for the Queen's guard dog.'* Ciel scoffed, "I'll give you credit old man, you're wise. You've actually gone to quite the extent." The boy began to remove his eyepatch as he spoke, a tell-tale sign he was rather angry. "However, you're pushing my limits. You could never surpass my abilities, so don't think too highly of yourself," said the young lord, smirking. The violet star on his right eye began to glow, along with the star on Sebastian's left hand, which was now free of his white butler's glove. "Sebastian!" Ciel shouted, retrieving the butler's attention that had previously been captured somewhere through the window, "go retrieve the scythe." "Yes, my lord." Sebastian obediently did as he was told. In the meantime, Ciel did not once remove his gaze from the Undertaker. He was the cause of his name being dragged through the mud with the heavy burden of "murder" written all over it. The young lord was not one to tolerate such a thing. In a matter of seconds, Sebastian returned to his master, kneeling before him, the scythe laying in his outstretched arms. It was definitely a shinigami's scythe, and it seemed to reflect the Undertaker's personality. The handle was a spinal chord, followed by a rib cage and topped with a skull with a blade on top. To the Undertaker, it was a work of art, and a dear treasure.

Ciel took the weapon into his hands, examining it. "Now, Undertaker," he began, rotating the scythe at hand, "I do hope you plan to voice your intentions." The young lord had the Undertaker right where he needed him, for he knew the man wouldn't try to pull anything with his scythe in the young lord's hands. Ciel watched him with an intense gaze, almost as if he were staring at a rat. Undertaker remained silent. "Well?" pushed the boy, getting impatient. Undertaker broke the silence with a laugh, "Oh, I suppose I could spell it out for you." The man was practically hysterical with insanity. "You see, Earl, as you already know, I have lost interest in the average life. All I want to do is experiment with and test what we know to be the 'norm.' But is there really a such thing as being normal? It is merely a word set by society to restrict others from advancing. Who set these rules in the first place? Why, you humans did! So I thought to myself, 'wouldn't it be beautifully ironic to try my experiments on humans?'" He laughed. "So, I have begun to experiment with the cinematic records of the dead. Since they are no longer necessary to a human once they have died, I wanted to see what I could do with them. Now I believe I have perfected the projection of cinematic records into the stream of reality, for all to see. Just think of all that could be done! The advancements that can be made!" Ciel was unphased. "That isn't logical at all! Cinematic records are only recorded from that one person's point of view. I am completely aware of your insanity, but this is totally immoral. Also, due to someone taking part of their time in life to notice this said cinematic record, it would not appear in their own record, because it belongs only to the original owner. You said it yourself, that is why no one can ever be successfully resurrected; they had their records collected and cannot achieve a complete living existence without them, and a substitute cannot possibly fill the void. Anyway, I don't have the time to argue over that matter. What I want to know is why you killed the people you did to get their cinematic records." Undertaker grinned. "You are clever, Earl. However, you say I am what I am not. The man you're looking for is elsewhere. He needed an assassin, some personal reason, I assume, and I needed the records. Naturally, we reached a deal." Sebastian spoke up, trying to put the pieces together. "Was this man the same as the one that framed Bocchan?" "No, that was Her Majesty's butler. Grey, I believe it was. He's not involved in the case at all, he's just a psychopath." The grin on Undertaker's face widened, threatening to split his face. "At least, he was. He, too, was assassinated." The man bowed, "Yours truly, my lord."

Finding no more use in the mortician, the Earl and his butler took their leave, Ciel reluctantly returning the scythe to its rightful owner. "Sebastian, I want one like that." "Oh, is that so, Bocchan? Does the dearboy want a pony as well?" Sebastian teased, using Ciel's least favorite and most embarrassing nickname he had ever received from the Queen. Ciel scowled, "I only want it as a weapon. Self defense," he said, heat rising to his face. "Are you sure you mean that? Your blushing face tells me otherwise." "Oh, shut up, you cat-obsessed moron!" "Now, Bocchan-" before their bickering could continue, a shadowy figure dropped from the rooftops, landing before the two of them. He seemed to resemble Sebastian quite a bit. Same disheveled black hair, eyes now flaring that luminous magenta, beckoning a threat from the opponent. Before Ciel could issue any orders, the demon launched a knife attack at Sebastian. The butler's eyes flared, smirking in mockery as he gave a leisure yet successful attempt to catch the knife. "Sebastian, whoever that is, kill him!" shouted the infuriated young lord. "As you wish, my lord." The demons engaged in a brief yet quick-paced fight, Sebastian finally getting the other pinned to a brick wall. "I do believe I saw you through the window of the morgue. What might you have been doing? Perhaps," Sebastian clenched a fist around the other's throat, "you were eavesdropping?" In spite of his iron grip on the other's throat, the anonymous demon spoke clearly and calmly, as if he hadn't spent the last ten minutes in an all-out fight. "I won't let you distract the Undertaker from the task my master has assigned him. Day into night, sugar into salt, silver into gold. That is the job of a faithful butler." Sebastian knew the last line all too well, for he had said it many times himself in the past. "Who might be this precious master of yours?"

"My, my, this aggressive environment is not fit for a child, now is it, Claude?" A stranger arose from the shadows. Navy blue hair. Midnight blue eyes. Tall. But most of all, he was-a Phantomhive. Vincent Phantomhive to be exact. "Fa-Father?!" exclaimed Ciel, completely baffled. "You're...You're alive?" This time, his voice was barely above a whisper. Just imagine yourself in the same situation. To have spent years in agony, and to have finally found a ray of light... Vincent smiled kindly at his son, walking over to him. Ciel had grown since the last they saw one another, but the boy was still behind his father by a foot. "Yes, I'm here Ciel. Like you, your mother and I managed to escape, but she was too wounded and could not make it. And to think-all this time, I thought that my two most beloved people were killed," Vincent took Ciel into a bear hug, tears stinging his eyes, "I can't even tell you how relieved I was to hear you were alive. I heard only a mere month ago, after all of these years. I heard from a stranger on the street, he even told me that you served the Queen, and that you were doing very well on your own. He also told me about this magnificent butler of yours." He turned to look at Sebastian gratefully. "I am indebted to you, sir, for taking care of my son all these years." Sebastian smiled, "Thank you, sir, but I am not worthy of your praise. I am simply one hell of a butler," he replied, kneeling before the two Earls. Ciel turned to face his father reluctantly. "Father...why...why did you kill those people? Were you trying to test me?" he asked, insulted to be tried, yet his large eyes were filling with tears. "No, Ciel, I wouldn't question your authority. You've grown up well, and I respect that. I only did what I did to protect you. My intention was to eliminate anyone who posed as a threat to you, that's all." Ciel's heart felt as though it weighed a million pounds, clouded still by agony. Even so, he felt the familiar attachment he had for his father all throughout his childhood. "I thought I lost my son once. I'll never be able to go through that again." For the first time in years, Ciel cried. Vincent took the child into his arms, allowing him to cry over his shoulder. Ciel stayed glued in place, sobbing. Sebastian led the two home, as Ciel fell asleep in his father's arms once again.

Vincent bid the young lord a good night after tucking him in, for by then it was nearly midnight. As he was about to close the door on his way out, Ciel spoke. "Father?" The man turned, "Yes, Ciel?" A silence temporarily filled the room, bearing down on the two of them. "If you die, I'll never forgive you," said the child, a face cold and hard as stone. Vincent was caught by surprise, but smiled nonetheless. "Fair enough. Good night, Ciel." He closed the door behind himself, and then made his way to the front door as well. "Sir, where are you going at this time of night?" inquired Sebastian, arising from seemingly nowhere, almost as if he had formed from the shadows about the room. Vincent smirked, "Oh, I believe I need to go out for a walk to clear my mind for now." In the blink of an eye, Sebastian had crossed the room and slammed the front door. He grinned, although he was quite irritated, "I'm afraid I cannot allow that sir. You and I both know that you plan on running and deserting Bocchan. What kind of butler would I be if I would let you inflict any more pain upon my master's soul?" Vincent's smile faded, a face we all know to be too familiar. Well, it's safe to say we know who Ciel got his scowell from! "I see how you're going to be. Mister Butler, would you prefer that I stay and have Ciel witness my death first-hand? I can feel my end approaching, and I refuseto put my son through that kind of trauma ever again. Is that clear?" The demon paused, "As you wish, my lord," he replied, defeated. Vincent gave a sad smile, "I believe I best be on my way now, before this becomes too hard." He began to walk out the door when he suddenly paused, turning back to Sebastian. "Oh, and Mister Butler?" "Yes, sir?" Vincent quickly weighed his options. As much as it hurt him to have to leave it like this, he did so anyway. "Please...take care of Ciel," he said softly. As he took his leave, a single picture fell from Vincent's pocket. After the door closed, Sebastian swiftly picked it up, slipping it into his pocket.

The next morning Ciel awoke, wandering the house in search of his father, when he bumped into Madam Red in the hallway. "Ciel!" she exclaimed, smiling at her dear nephew. "Good morning! You're up early. What are you out and about for?" she asked cheerfully. "Where is Father?" The question came as a start. She remembered that day Ciel had returned, how he asked the very same question with the same hopeful eyes. "Oh, Ciel...you...your father's dead, remember?" Madam's voice caught in her voice as she spoke. "He's been dead for the past four years..." "Oh," was all the boy could say. It was like the past all over again. It was like a knife to the heart... "So, it was all a dream, I suppose..." said the disappointed child. Madam Red embraced the child, barely able to contain her tears. "Oh, my dear child, don't we all wish he were still here?"

After that dramatic encounter, Ciel stormed over to Sebastian's room, interrupting the man's work. "My lord, what are you doing here? Do you need something?" His face was met with the young lord's hand. "Tell me, Sebastian, what really happened to my father?" The demon did not so much as bat an eye. "Why, Bocchan, don't you remember? Your father was assassinated." Ciel fumed, "You swear you're not lying to me, Sebastian?" "My lord, you know I never lie." After a long pause, the boy finally left. When the man knew Ciel was well away, he pulled the picture from his pocket. It was Vincent's photo of him and Ciel, long ago. In the picture, Vincent had fallen asleep in a great red-velvet chair before a fireplace, Ciel fast asleep beside him. Sebastian smiled, placing the picture in a drawer with his few belongings.

But of course, the butler did not lie. Vincent Phantomhive was indeed assassinated, but on December 3, 1889. The very day he left. The day of Ciel's fourteenth birthday. I claimed his life as he foresaw, for he knew he could not cheat me twice. Fool me once? Shame on me. Fool me twice? Shame on you.

And now, dear children, I have concluded my story. I hope not to see you any time soon.

Sincerely,

Death.

Please let me know what you think, darlings :3