A/N: Instead of writing controversial statements and nuclear equations, I decided to write this little prologue/first chapter. Kuroshitsuji is property of Yana Toboso and (sigh) not me.
"I love Bubonic plagues don't you Willy-Will?" Trilled the Undertaker, or as he was known several centuries ago, *Censored*. His long black nails raked over the too big scythe he held as they traced the dry blood caked on the blade. He giggled hysterically, long enough for the other shinigamis to stop reaping and give him the evil eye. He couldn't help it, geliophilia was a family trait; Madame Rosso Corsa being the ultimate jokester and all. Speaking of Madame Rosso Corsa …
"It's almost that time of month isn't it Willful Will? Mama Rouge's gonna get knocked up," Undertaker asked, looking down at his half brother twice removed…or was it his nephew-cousin sextupled removed? Oh, for the love of Caesar, which was it? Either way, William T. Spears was the son of Madame Rosso Corsa and exactly eight years his junior. And Undertaker was only at the tender age of fourteen.
"No doubt," William reluctantly replied, pushing his glasses back. It was his first pair, and he couldn't seem to stop fiddling with the accessory adorning his pale little face. Both of the brothers were dressed in sober black clothing; Shinigamis weren't allowed to wear what they wanted until they turned fifteen.
Strict rules were what held the Shinigami race together. After all, Shinigami were, for the most part, infertile. Except for Madame Rosso Corsa, whose womb encased almost every Shinigami in existence and continued to do so. But for some time now, Madame had not succeeded in impregnating herself. Even is she did, the baby was lost; whether by natural causes or intended causes they did not know. Her last child had been William, a boy with horrible eyesight and weighing no more than four pounds at birth. He was given to Undertaker as a subordinate/consolation gift, since he was kicked out of Shinigami School and would never receive a birthday present in his everlasting existence. Oh well. Having a little brother/subordinate was nice, even though William rarely smiled and took his Shinigami duties a tad-bit serious.
"Well I'm not going to take a six-year-old's word for this matter," Undertaker playfully replied, grasping William's chubby little hand. "Let's go see Madame Rosso Corsa!"
Red rugs, scarlet walls, ruby furniture, sangria curtains, and rose madder cushions, these items composed the dwellings of Madame Rosso Corsa. But this was only on the surface; deep inside her rufous drawers were more shinigami colors like ebony and domino. Madame Rosso Corsa was lying on her plush Persian red bed, plucking idly at a mustard freesia. Her thoughts were interrupted when an Undertaker and a William barged in, despite the female shinigami trying to stop them.
"Madame, I'm so sorry I tried to stop these two but apparently they have no sense of…"
"Leave," Ordered Madame Rosso Corsa, dismissing the female shinigami, "I will take care of these two personally." The guard merely nodded and left, closing the door behind them.
"I told you Undertaker," Madame began, fluffing a crimson pillow, "in exchange for William, you were to receive no presents from me; that includes my love and attention. Why, there are fourteen-year-olds begging their parents to stop babying them and here you are…William dear, you have Undertaker now who loves you very much and…"
"You're pregnant again?" Undertaker interrupted, his face twisted into a frown. The little bump in Madame's dress was barely noticeable, but it was there all right.
"Once more," Madame agreed wearily, "once more am I forced to bear with child birth. I wanted to get rid of it, but I have already grown attached. I believe this one will be a beautiful Freesia, don't you?" William looked up at Undertaker, his face filled with confusion. Tears, bloody salty ones, gathered in the corner of his eyes.
"Don't cry my little Willy-Will," Undertaker crooned, picking William up, "we'd better leave and let Madame take her nap. It's important now that she's with child."
"Take it," Madame offered, pointing at the bump, "It's been in here for a few months now, perhaps it's time the little Freesia saw the world." She massaged the bump lightly, feeling the little monster inside of her crawl.
"With pleasure," Undertaker grinned, replacing the sour look he had earlier, "if you don't mind…" He walked over to Madame's side and felt the bump before ripping the flesh with the tip of his onyx nails.
"Guh!" Air escaped from Madame's throat as the loveliest shade of vermillion spilled from her tummy. He played around with her innards, feeling the wet mass of entrails with his forefingers. He finally grasped his new sibling and pulled him out with incredible force. Madame coughed bile and blood, her chest heaving with pressure. William came from behind Madame and with his incredibly long clipper scythe, ended Rosso Corsa's life.
"Imagine that," Undertaker smirked, "little Freesia turned out to be a little gent! Teeheehee, aren't you the cutest? Yesh you are, yesh you are!" He wiped the blood off the baby boy with Madame's sheets to reveal his Anglo face and mustard eyes. William breathed heavily, trying to pull out his clipper scythe. In the midst of this, he caught sight of the baby newborn.
It smiled.
And William, for the first time, smiled too.
A few weeks later…
Undertaker, William, and baby Freesia (now called Grell) were sitting on a wooden wagon, watching various Justinian subjects run towards an unknown palace. It was an interesting way to spend the decade off, considering the fact the shinigami race was facing massive repopulation. Madame Rosso Corsa's death was a tragedy, for only a few. Who needed a worthless human mass producing shingami anyway? It turned out Shingamis weren't infertile; they just couldn't have shinigami babies with other shinigamis or magical creatures. It took specific mortal women to encase the shinigami embryo; it was just a matter of finding these women and bingo! Shinigami repopulation.
"Grell needs another bottle," William informed Undertaker, watching baby Grell's eyes tear up. His mustard eyes were staring right at William, like always. And like always, he was in the arms of nee-chan William. Undertaker couldn't separate those two; they were like maggots on decayed mortal flesh. He handed William the bottle and watched as baby Grell eagerly drank his midmorning snack. Today it was virgin blood; perhaps tomorrow baby Grell could drink goat blood?
"Grell will not drink animal blood," William stated, "it's not good for his nutrition."
"Gee I just thought it would fun to watch him gag," Undertaker pouted, "but it that's what you want."
"Instead of pouting you should put your idea to the test," William admonished him, "aren't you always going on about opening a daycare? Maybe that's best for Grell." Undertaker giggled, covering his mouth with his hand. It had been an idea he had been toying around since before Grell was born but never put into effect. A daycare for demon babies and shinigami babies and corpse babies and…the list was infinite. He would have coffin play pins and rusty cribs and a high ceiling for those angel babies that liked to fly at age two.
"You know what Will with a Y," Undertaker said, standing up from the wagon, "I'm gonna do it. And you're going to be the co-owner. And Grell will be the first in our business." He took Grell from William's hands and twirled the baby in a celebratory motion.
A few more weeks later…
Baby Grell was starting to squirm around in his little black outfit, crying when anything relating to the shinigami color touched his skin. It had become a chore to dress Grell, who refused to eat until he got dressed and refused to get dressed. He and William were having a stare down, and William, at age six now, was not about to lose to a baby. Undertaker was painting the interior of his daycare black, and sort of watching the charade from afar. He did watch when Grell began to pout, then wrinkle his face, then burst into fat bloody tears. William remained impassive for so long before picking up Grell and rocking him back and worth.
"If you don't get dressed you won't eat," William said, "how stupid are you? Just eat already!" There he goes again, losing his little half-assed temper, Undertaker smiled, setting his paintbrush down. He went away for a couple of minutes and returned with something that caught all babies' eyes, red. Or more accurately, a red dress made for baby Grell.
"What is this? Grell will not dress in drag," William opposed, shielding Grell from the offensive clothing.
"This? It's a new idea that popped up in my head," Undertaker explained, holding the dress close to baby Grell. "I call it breeching, when a young male wears a dress until he's old enough for pants. That's what it is and Grell's doing it." William scowled, but reluctantly handed Grell to Undertaker. In a matter of seconds he had dressed Grell in the little rouge dress and handed him back to William. Baby Grell was giggling, as if this was what he wanted to wear.
"See William? It's all about thinking outside the box. And this in no way will affect his sexual preferences."
"I hope not," William bounced Grell up and down while Undertaker prepared a bottle for the ravenous little baby.
"And we're officially open for business!" Undertaker announced a few days later, bringing a huge book to the center of the room.
"What is that?" William pointed, "It's a little too big to be a soul book isn't it?"
"These are just a few parents who called to have their babies watched," Undertaker sighed, a smile plastered on his face. "And on top of that, some of them decided to pay in labor. Meaning you and I have now acquired somewhat free labor!"
"All those babies?" William shook his head; did Undertaker think they could do so much?
"Mhm," Undertaker nodded, closing the book up.
"As long as those babies don't come near Grell, I guess I don't mind," William replied after the longest pause.
A/N: I probably ended that weird but…oh well. Please review and PM me requests of characters you want baby stories of. Check my profile for more details. Thanks for reading!