Fleeting

By Thom Curtis

Such a small child, fragile and fleeting. Thirteen years of age if he remembered correctly, dying of some problem with her lungs. He didn't care, he couldn't be bothered to remember exactly what it was that she suffered from. She was just another soul, just another being that was born to die and be reaped. Young, yes, but as a worker in the pediatric ward, that didn't bother him. Numbness had set in a long time ago, long before her ever became a shinigami.

"Izumi, you be a creeper?"

Izumi turned his head to the side, just enough to see the annoying cat that was pestering him. Dumbass, he thought.

"What do you want Takuto?"

The moon light spilled in through the window, placing light, faded streaks across the floor. It barely touched his shoes before the top of the window cut off the light. It hardly lit the room enough to see Takuto but Izumi could, and he did. The failure of a shinigami leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, eyes closed, and a shit-eating grin taunting Izumi.

"I'm just making sure you don't do anything to her. You know, you're sort of known for not wanting to leave Mitsuki alive once you've got her alone."

So they still didn't trust him to not take her soul. They should've known better, he had no interest in her soul anymore. And anyways, if he didn't take her soul now, he got to see Takuto fail when they time came that her soul had to be reaped.

"I'm not interested in her soul."

"Sure you aren't," Takuto said, his eye lids sliding open. "Like I'd listen to a goddamn word you have to say. Anyways, if you aren't in here for her soul, why are you in here?"

That was a question even Izumi didn't know the answer to. Perhaps it was because the presence of the small child brought a soothing feeling to him or maybe it was because he could gloat in the fact he was better than her, not letting emotions tie him to anything. Perhaps it was the small spark of rage the sight of her incited in him. She was weak, young, and in a far worse situation then he had been yet she continued to live, she didn't throw herself in front of a train nor did she fling herself from the top of a thirteen story building.

"So you really are here for her soul aren't you."

Was Takuto deaf?

"I already told you the answer. Moreover, it is far more fun to watch you fail and burst into tears because you're a failure and you got attached."

"Thanks a lot."

Izumi turned to face Takuto full on, grateful that the peaceful sight of Mitsuki would no longer taunt him. Peace was not something he was fond of, anarchy, chaos and pain were things he was fond of.

He stuffed his hand in the pocket of his vest, narrowing his eyes and the sight of Takuto. Everything about this shinigami bothered him. He was charismatic, he was over-confident, he was proud and obnoxious. He wore his heart on his sleeve, acting out everything that came to mind and never once wondering if what he said would be the right thing.

It was times like these he wished he could pull out a cigarette, showing even more so how dissatisfied he was with what was happening.

"I'm leaving."

"Oh, forever?" Takuto smiled, an edge of fake happiness to his voice. Oh how Takuto wished.

"Why would I? I have all the entertainment at my fingertips here."

He stepped past Takuto, knowing that the other shinigami would linger, watching Mitsuki sleep with a goofy smile on his face. He thought it was disgusting, the fact Takuto lowered himself so far as to fall in love with a little human. Then again, he had bias to feel that way. He thought Takuto was disgusting in general, let alone the actions he committed.

He need air, he realized. The feeling of drowning intensified suddenly, pushing in around him and startling him. He was drowning in his hatred for Takuto, he realized. His hate for the cat was so great that it could crush him if he had anything but negative emotions. No, even then it would crush him but he had been crushed long before now and all he was now was dust in the wind, too small to be crushed or seen.

He stepped past Meroko, stepped out into the night air. His eyes instantly met the moon, basking in its white glory. It lifted the feeling a little distracting him from hatred for a moment. It was a full moon, bettering his enjoyment of it.

It then hit him hard, again. He was taking enjoyment from the full moon, the meaning of Mitsuki's name. He couldn't escape the girl, could he? She was everywhere now. She was all the talk that filled up the pediatric ward, the water cooler gossip if one would call it that. She was all the talk of the human world as well, or at least Full Moon was. And she was all the talk of Meroko, even Takuto no matter how much he hated him. It annoyed him, frustrated him. The one thing he hated most chased him everywhere he went, never once easing up on him, the prey.

His boots made a thudding noise against the cement side-walk. Few people were about, and even though they couldn't see him or feel him, he was glad about it. If more were about he risked hearing about Full Moon again. The few people who were about he knew would not talk about Full Moon and for that he was thankful. The people who were about were the seedy type, the ones who made dark deals in dark alleys. They wore baggy, ripped and grimy clothing. They were unshaved and unclean, lowly and stinky. They're heads were bent, hands in their pockets probably playing with a box of cigarettes.

Still, he couldn't erase Mitsuki from his mind.

He found this happened a lot. She never relented, always hanging around in the back of her mind, reminding him every time he was about to forget that she existed.

Yet she didn't even know of this obsession he had for her.

Oh he could admit it in the darkness of the night, under the full moon, alone and drowning in it. He might have been full of pride for the most part, too proud even to admit most things, but under right the circumstances, he could admit certain things.

He sat down on the curb, a car flying past into a puddle, sending water right through him. A woman dressed in one of the skimpiest outfits he'd seen squealed, backing away from the edge of the street, disgust clearly written on her face. He didn't care though, lost in his thoughts of Mitsuki. Somehow, through the burning hatred he had for her, he could get lost in her. She wasn't like the other souls, and nor was she like anything else he'd ever of.

That was why he, and the shinigami, were obsessed with Mitsuki.