Author's Note: I don't normally write fics like this. I prefer to make fics with more canon based information rather than speculation - more free headcanons which I don't dare venture into that often. Undertaker and Claudia would therefore hardly be my usual topic of writing but I decided to give it a shot anyway.
This fic follows a non-romantic view of their relationship. Hope you like it. Also, a big shoutout to dorkshadows on tumblr for their headcanon post on Claudia and Lady Violet Crawley of Downton Abbey, which I think it's perfection and will attempt and hopefully succeed to follow a bit here. Title is a variation from my other Shinigami-centered fic, Reasons to live Reasons to die.
Edit: Changed some bits!
EDIT: Thanks so much to Kiellessa for thoroughly beta-reading this chapter! Apologies to everyone yet again for the amount of mistakes all around.
Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji obviously belongs to Toboso Yana but this headcanon/backstory is of my creation together with the inspiration from the above mentioned post.
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1830
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Suicides weren't uncommon.
Ah, if they knew it. If he knew it.
The most common were lonely souls, wretched and destroyed beyond apparent salvation, rich and poor alike. They were too distressed to continue on their lives - only to unknowingly move to a different form of penance.
...Depending on how you saw it. He knew many Shinigami who seemed quite happy with such existences.
The second most common were couples, seeking to perpetuate their love in a dramatic Shakespearean fashion.
...Hardly a portion of those eternal lovers remained affectionate toward one another after they realized what their 'happily ever after' actually turned out to be. But they eventually found their own forms of happiness, he assumed.
This particular incident was novelty.
He didn't particularly enjoy suicide cases. The paperwork was a headache, even the preliminary reports that field workers like himself had to fill in. This one case, meant to be mundane and utterly boring, sparked an increasing interest; a small box of surprises disguised in the shape of a refined parlour of a wealthy mansion.
First, the victim. An elderly woman. Old enough to be expecting natural death, refined enough to be wary of the repercussions of her act, of shaming her name with her decision to take her own life.
Second, the baby girl sitting next to her. Quiet in the tranquility of innocence, unaware of her surroundings and the events that had unfolded.
Third, the fact that this child, encircled by death and looking Death in the eyes, raised her round face and smiled.
The child smiled at him.
And for the first time in what felt like - and likely was - forever, he smiled back.
"Oh sweet child. You are a little dove, aren't you."
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Claudia Phantomhive had no recollection of her witnessing her grandmother's suicide, much less of her encounter with him.
He never forgot it. The baby girl who smiled at Death, who had come to take her grandmother away.
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(Her grandmother was a scary lady. Very scary, and like so many other Shinigami, she was happily engaged in her new life that was meant to be her penance. As happily as one could assume at least, from that stern and emotionless expression she always wore.)
(She probably wasn't happy at all. She never smiled.)
(Wasn't that the sign of happiness? Surely people could be happy without smiling.)
(But he never smiled either…)
...and he wasn't happy.
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Once, out of some strange melancholic moment he barely ever dared to even consider what was about, he queried a fellow coworker about happiness. What made him feel that emotion? He seemed to be one of the happy few amongst the Grim Reapers.
The other Shinigami gaped for a moment. He was probably more surprised to be addressed so randomly by him than surprised by the oddity of the question. But eventually, he blurted a quick reply: "If something makes me smile, I suppose that's what makes me happy."
"That's a rather dull and cheap answer, isn't it?"
He left the coworker - who was now more taken aback than when he had been approached - staring after him.
That simplistic and utterly generic answer hardly qualified as an interesting input of any sort. Surely there was something more, something else required to create happiness, something more than just some random object or interest or hobby. That one thing would be but a fleeting moment that wouldn't change anything in and on itself. He was interested in the emotion, not the reaction.
Shortly after, he abandoned the thought altogether and fell back to his mundane, simple and uterly generic task that death itself was.
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1837
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He recognized her immediately when they crossed paths again. The imprint of her baby features still lingered visible underneath her child ones, as recognizable to him as they would be to any close family member that had been privileged to see her grow up. And her smile would have been the same if she showed it, he was sure, albeit with more teeth. But the child seemed wary of that expression, her face now clouded and cautious.
"You shouldn't run away from your mother, child." The words came out calm and with an hint of something unusual, a sort of gentle amusement he knew some possessed, but he hardly ever expressed himself.
He shouldn't even be talking with humans - he shouldn't be seen altogether and could have so easily avoided to. But when had been the last time he even cared to reveal himself in such a manner? It was usually pointless to do so. The simple case he had just filed -the butchering of a poor prostitute in the alley just a corner away - wasn't anything new or extraordinary. Nothing it would require him to wear any form of disguise to blend in a crowd of humans, as some sort of sneaky adventure. He had been bored of those types for years.
Regardless of any of that, here they were on these dangerous roads of the city that held no peril or excitement for him, and yet screamed a warning to humans - and even more so, to their children - to be wary. And here he was, talking with the little girl ignoring said warning.
She was cautious, yes. She wore cheap, mended clothing, nothing of the sort her social standard would wear by far, and one could mistake her for a homeless boy. She seemed to be quick to search for reliable escape routes should he have been an assailant, ready to flee at a moment's notice. That caution was a vital addition to the clear rebellious and curious vein within her. She was... six, no, seven years old. How wonderful did she look, and how sharp.
"Who says I've ran away?" her voice was still high and babyish but with an unmistakable pitch of nobility. It would have bled into and ruined her disguise should anyone else have found her. That alone was enough to make him to chuckle quietly.
The girl squinted, a sulky child expression almost too sweet to be threatening at all, as she thoroughly inspected him in search for motives or origins. For some reason, she improvised, perhaps to enforce her attempted disguise, adding: "I'm exploring. What about you, sir?"
"Me? Oh, I'm dealing with affairs that are far more dragging than enthusiastic, youthful exploring. Good luck with your adventure, young lady."
Despite blowing her cover, her previous mistrustful expression softened, almost as if she was grateful for the approval he had given to her ventures. She seemed satisfied, and her lips broke to an easy smile, just as they had when she had been a baby.
"I will advise you, however, not to stroll to other streets nearby. A smart lady such as yourself knows that some dark mysteries of this city hold unpleasant sights."
She immediately peeked around him as if on reflex, to the corner of the street, as if she knew just from his words exactly where he was advising her against going.
"Oh. Has someone died?"
Well, wasn't that a fast conclusion.
"Yes." He could have lied, but what was the point? But perhaps it was not advisable to be so straightforward... he hadn't interacted with humans for a long while.
"So are you some sort of undertaker? Is that the drag affair you spoke of?"
Oh well. Now.
What to do.
It was not as if it were up to Shinigami to interfere in human affairs. This child wasn't meant to die today - he would have been given her name in the soul list. Why would a child need to die for asking one question?
"In a way."
"Shouldn't you be careful too, then? The perpetrators surely could attempt to attack those who find their victims."
"No child, I don't believe they would." He paused. "I'm positive you'll find interesting things to explore someplace else."
The girl's wary expression returned - that caution again - but she didn't seem afraid. Instead, she was focused on his lanky frame and his expression. She didn't move either, which left it up to him to do so.
He stepped slowly up to and then past her, strangely aware of the odd straining on his lips. And aware of the equally strange, albeit less pleasant, sense of loss. This moment spent with her seemed be gone far too quickly.
"Uh, pardon me. If I could - could you wait, please?"
He turned around, curious at the polite tone of aristocracy turned so silly and adorable when babbled by such a small child.
"If I could, may I ask you an odd request?"
"Oh~?"
"Could you remove your glasses? Please?"
He blinked, and for some reason nodded immediately. He returned to where she stood, lowering his tall frame to his knees, so that the girl now stood above him by some centimeters. She wasn't afraid, but she wasn't smiling either. Slightly apprehensive, curious, not so much judging this strange figure in front of her like adults would, just curious to get the answer to her request, whatever intention it held.
His lips still had the curve of the faintest of smiles. It remained and increased in amusement when he removed the thin spectacles from his face and Claudia's brows furrowed in her focus.
"Why ever do you ask this for, child?"
"What's wrong with your eyes?"
"My sight is poor."
"Is that why your eyes looks like that?"
A chuckle vibrated in his chest. "Oh?"
She blinked, an achievement of some sort appointed in her mind. She didn't say it out loud.
"Are you going away?"
"Yes, child."
"I see. Thank you."
"Whatever you thanking me for?"
"For the advise. Yes. Also... please, when you came back, even if it's a short while from now... do not address me as child. You've seen through my disguise, so you know I'm a lady and I will not abide such diminishing treatment. You will address me as Lady Phantomhive - well, that sounds like my mother, so... Lady Claudia if need be."
She was unquivering in her resolved words, despite his increasingly astonished face. Pleasant, such a pleasant surprise.
"Until next we meet, Mr Undertaker."
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to be continued
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Author's Note: I'm almost shivering from seeing that 'to be continued' up there, making this the 3rd ongoing fic I have. I apologize but I have been having quite a few bits of struggles with time and writing. I am going through an ordeal. This particular fic has a similar fashion to my 'Paper Roses' fic - I have this idea in my head for months and either way, I will finish it. Hope you'll be around to read and hopefully you'll enjoy.
Probably there's no need for me to say this here, but Claudia takes Undertaker is Death, and is thanking for having not been taken that day. She'll wonder whether he was a real persona or an imagination in the next chapter. That's the plan at least.
Thanks for reading, hope you can leave a review and please point out mistakes.
