Thank you very much for clicking. Here goes nothing. (Constructive criticism is always welcome!)

Edit 1/7/13: Here it is folks, my first Kuro fic revamped. For my subscribers, here's the promise rewrite I was going on about from 2012.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji. Yana Toboso does.


The pounding of his heart increasing with every step his bare soles made, Jim Macken skipped through the lonely meadow.

"Hoheo taralna, rondero tarel," he whispered.

Walk through a spider's web with an honest face…

Dirty strands of yellow hair lifted from closed lids. Sticky white silk made contact with a snow white face. He smiled, a smile that came as easily as a butterfly flies through a cobweb. For what did the smile concern him? What did the butterfly matter? He had long since given up on the meaning behind it- happiness, life. A smile meant nothing.

"Hoheo taralna, rondero tarel…"

Please, just one glimpse, just one chance,

"Hoheo taralna, rondero tarel…"

Please, please come… just once… even just once,

Feathers were drifting in the air, covering nearly every dull inch of the meadow. His feet drowned in white feathers. Only the purest of the pure. Only the white touched him; the rest, the feathers that seemed to engulf the forest, were pitch black.


The tiny child desperately struggled against the hold of the masked men, thin limbs flailing to no avail as they beat him back down. He could see their maniacal grins through his blurred vision. He imagined the flames of hell curling around them and burning his body, licking him, consuming him. The pain.

He could no longer tell reality from imagination; the pain was too much to bear, every bruise, every cut, every fracture that had been inflicted on his broken and starved form, screeched at him. Sickening screams filled the dark void. The child's own screams.

Help me… please… anyone! Help me!

The mangled bodies of defiled children lay on the floors, limbs twisted and bloodied. The stone slab was adorned with sickening things of all sorts. It was hell. The brandished dagger dug itself into porcelain skin.

Please! No matter who! Help me… help me… help me!

His eyes rolled backwards; pain shot through his exposed body. Crimson spilt over the slab, poured from his mouth. The last touch. The dirtied knife plunged into a wide eye. He could see nothing but red.

It doesn't matter who! It doesn't matter how! Just help me!


The pain stopped. He felt as light as a feather on a bird's wing. Cautiously, the boy opened both unharmed eyes. He was met with what he could only describe as an utterly empty void, a vacuum without light.

Trembling, he tried to move his weak limbs. He was unpleasantly surprised to discover his body immobilized by long, sticky white strands. They caught him from his disheveled ebony locks to his small toes. A spider web.


Snowflakes fell lightly, mixing with the rain of feathers. Encompassed in shadow, Jim found himself almost hypnotically lying down on the bed of white feathers. Everything was too vivid, too much like an illusion for him to accept, but that didn't matter. He forced himself to believe this was real. Because he had to.

Feathers stained with red fell near him. Curious, he picked them up and sniffed. Blood.

"iT is tHoU whO suMmOns mE."

It echoed throughout the meadow. Jim brought his glance to the source of the strange guttaral voice. It was a giant bird, a twisted image of a crow, no, raven. He couldn't bring himself to call it that; it was too majestic for such names. Jim continued to stare in awe at it, his view of its head blocked by folded dark wings.

"Hoheo taralna, rondero tarel…" he whispered.

"ThoU hAst sUch a paTHetic soUl, dIsguStIng vErmiN."

The comment stung ten times worse than Earl Trancy's beating. But he had already come so far, he had nothing left to lose.

"I know."

"Thy minD is not As dull as I Hast thought."

It was mocking him. Jim's mouth curved into a cold smirk.

"You're hurt."

"I wOulD noT bE heRE otHerWise."

"Then you need me."

There was no reply, but Jim could make out a muffled growl.

"ThoU hAst suMmonED me. What iS tHy wIsH?"

His eyes lowered. What wish? If he could have anything at all…

"I… I want Luka."

"CoNtinUe."

"My brother. He's dead."

"I canNot dO tHat."

He had no wish. Life was as hopeless as a butterfly without wings.

"Then I have none."

"PathEtiC trAmP. No puRposE aNd yet so GreEdy. Thy soul Is so mEagEr in cOmParison tO…"

The voice trailed off, forgetting the word.

No… I have to do this, I need this

"Please, give me another few days. I- I'll find a wish."

"FiNe. cOme to mE in thREe day's tIme anD wE ShAll form thY conTRact."

Contract?

The feathers dispersed, shadow reclining with it. Jim sank into the bed of white feathers, deeper and deeper until his vision was consumed. Reality was returning.

"W- wait!"

The sky was clearing. The white feathers were slowly fading out of view.

"Are you a fairy?"

The last thing Jim heard before falling into unconsciousness was a deep malicious chuckle.

"Demon."


The spider closed in on the boy, eight large legs brushing against his bare skin. The child shuddered.

"what iS yoUr wisH?"

His head twisted until sapphire eyes stared directly into the hollow orbs of a humanoid face. It was smiling calmly at him, wildly grinning at him.

"You know what I want."

Chills overtook his body again as furry legs wrapped themselves around bony limbs.

"sUch a delecTaBle soul. gIve me it and I wiLl grAnt your everY desire."

The large spider shook in anticipation. That corrupted innocence, the awkward stubborn pureness, the hatred that vibrated throughout the small body, it was all so delicious. Exquisite. Tempting.

The hopeless rage boiled within the boy. What they had taken from him, what they had done to him, he would make them pay for it all.

"My name is Ciel Phantomhive. I- I don't have a wish!" he shouted, throat hoarse.

"I have a goal! Find the ones that sullied my name and do unto them what they did unto me!"

He paused. A flood of memories flashed past his head. They flew away as fast as a bird on gliding wings.

I've… been here before…

"This is my first order: kill them all!"

But when?

"All of them!"

His thoughts were interrupted by searing pain, coursing through his entire being. The heat rose in his right eye, spreading until he could no longer find the strength to scream.

Mismatched orbs shot open, striking orange contrasting with dark blue.

"Yes, my master."

The web dissolved, darkness morphed into black, and Ciel found himself back on the cold slab.

Ciel Phantomhive… I finally have you

Blood curdling screams erupted.


He was disgusting. Jim rolled onto his side with glazed eyes. The creature had been correct about him: he was nothing more than pathetic vermin.

The sheets lay wet and tarnished under his skin. His thin bruised form only received solace from the cold night wind blowing in. Tired and sore, he tried to move away from the sleeping figure of his father.

Was it worth it?

He narrowed his eyes and forced himself to sit up. Stiff limbs dragged the soiled blanket off the bed. Carefully, he wrapped it around his naked self. It hurt.

Three days time…

Silent footsteps brought the blond toward the large window, the smell of impurity dampened by the chilly air. Rosy lips parted.

"Hoheo taralna, rondero tarel…"

He could make out the shape of a crow perched on a nearby tree, leaves dyed blue from the sky and rustling under the moon's light. There was something oddly familiar about it.

Everything will be different.

"Is iT thy wish to fOrm a contRact?"

His clutch on the blanket tightened. Everything will be different. A part of him knew everything would change that night, as if it had already been a part of the same scene.

"Yes."

He let the blanket drop to the floor. Everything will change. Reaching wildly, Jim stepped forward and gave a wild cry.

"Yes, your highness."

The phrase passed through his mind as fast as a spider's thread is cut. All thoughts were pushed out of his head by the pain that exploded in his mouth.

"ThEn mAsteR, thY wish is mY coMmAnd."

A pentagram of lavender light embedded itself in a protruding tongue.


"Claude Faustus, is it?"

The bespectacled man simply nodded, golden eyes never leaving the boy before him.

"I am the master, demon. And as such, do not make any more naming decisions without my consent."

The tone of authority coming from such a small figure made the servant's innards twinge with excitement. Every command that came from the petal-like mouth, every haughty action that came from his lily white body, every slight movement of his sculpted face, added a new flavor to that seasoned soul.

"I apologize, milord."

Ciel frowned, pale legs crossed, as he fingered the bandages on his head.

I know this feeling…

Claude bent down and brushed the boy's hair, running gloved fingers through strands as silky as fine spider thread. Ciel visibly flinched from the contact. The butler brought his hand to the child's neck, slowly bringing the other over and unbuttoning the shirt, the last obstacle, on the boy's body.

"Claude, what are you-"

A hand closed around Ciel's lips, spidery fingers pressing his cheek.

"Please relax, master."

The butler pulled the nightshirt down, eyes lighting with delight at the dollish skin, bruised and scarred, its largest blemish the branded mark etched into half healed flesh. His lips parted in anticipation.

Unable to struggle, the young nobleman only shivered as he felt Claude's long tongue trace his ear and down his neck. The devil lost himself in arousal, rapidly targeting any part of the boy's body he could reach. Tongue touching, hand pressing, neckline, back, front, hair, feet, possession.


The boy dropped another sugar cube into the teacup. There was more than enough sugar in it already. Golden locks lay clean and combed as a soft face met vermillion eyes.

"Then you have decided, Jim Macken?" asked the black clad man.

The boy's grip tightened, his brooding hatred for the man before him growing with each passing moment.

"My name is Alois Trancy."

The man smiled, charming features moving in mockery.

"I wish to find the one who killed my brother…"

He poured the tea onto the floor, cubes abandoned.

"Very well, milord."

"And what should I call you?"

"Whatever you wish."

Quietly, almost cruelly, Alois narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. He would not give this monster the pleasure of getting the best of him; he would never be looked down upon again.

"Sebastian."

The man's taunting eyes blinked slightly at the statement.

"May I ask why, master?"

Alois lifted his chin, smirking from the chair.

"Look at that picture behind you."

Without complaint, the demon turned around and glanced. He couldn't help but smirk at the boy's morbid sense of humor.

"The old fart told me who that was, the one on the corner, with arrows sticking out of him here and there. That's Saint Sebastian."

The man stayed expressionless.

"I'm naming you after a saint, devil."

The voice contained more force than necessary.

"Does that not make you mad?"

More forcefully. Maliciously.

"My name is Sebastian Michaelis, head butler of the Trancy household, and what kind of servant would I be if petty insults got the better of me?"

The boy's eyes widened. Rage bit at his body. The kettle was thrown at the man, cracking into several large pieces on the floor.

There was a hint of a smirk on Sebastian's face. A bitter, cold smile.

"Michaelis was a rather well known exorcist, milord. I think the surname will only add to your take on irony."

Alois didn't reply. He knocked the teacup to the ground.

"This is an order, Sebastian. Clean- no, lick it up."

Eyeing the blond with disdain, the butler knelt to the ground and lowered his head with surprising grace. It only infuriated Alois further. Even so, it was his chance to smirk.


A/N: Well, that's all for now. Hope it was worth your time. Next chapter, the reason behind the "switcheroo" will be explained.

Edit 1/7/13: The revamp has officially begun! This is the first edited chapter. The others will be re-uploaded soon before we move on to bigger things. Thanks for reading and reviews are more than welcome!