Initial Reluctance
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of Yana Toboso and Square Enix, Co. Ltd. I don't own them; I just examine all their possibilities.
Author's Note: This story is my personal head canon for William and has zero root in canon. I just wanted to play a little with my backstory for him.
A warning: This story deals heavily with the topic of racism and does contain racial slurs and problematic phrasings. This is done solely to demonstrate character and historical attitudes and the awfulness of the topic. Reader discretion advised.
Every report, graded paper, official document, and alphabetical listing always included a reaper's full forename, middle initial, and surname. There was an unspoken rule that it was considered rude in the extreme to ask anyone what that middle initial stood for. That information fell into the category of personal information, or even information about a reaper's mortal life. Despite this, the middle initial was always included on every piece of official paperwork.
There was a practical purpose to this; organization down to the letter was the practice of Reaper Dispatch. Considering the cataloging and information organization required with keeping up all the different lists of the dead and dying, naturally that applied to its own ranks as well.
Categorizing, organizing, and sorting seemed like an obsession to the firm. It wasn't uncommon for students to sit next to a student or attend meetings with another student in an alphabetized manner. In fact most students would learn this all carried into the formal ranks as well; keeping up with the job after all.
It was only the letter that mattered, the actual middle name was simply personal details. Usually, however, the middle initial was omitted in verbal address; reapers were simply referred to by their full forename (no room for frivolous nicknames here) and last name when addressed by superiors. However they wished to be addressed amongst their peers was their own choice.
There was one significant exception to this rule: the event that two reapers in one office had the same name. Considering the number of reapers in London and the nature of the recruitment process this was not a frequent occurrence, however it was not unheard of. Having two student reapers of the same name in the Academy at the same time was even more rare, though there were occasions. Such was the case with the two students named William Spears.
It was a common name after all. The latest recruitment sweep had also been one of the largest in the history of Britain. A changing of the guard in America and a population boom in London created a need of historical proportions. The population of the academy was now the highest it had been in centuries. Statistics created more of a situation of students sharing the same name.
Hence two men named William Spears were recruited in the same sweep. Both would enter their classes hearing themselves referred to as William M. Spears and William T. Spears. William T. Spears was more than a little vexed by this development. On a certain level, he was downright horrified and for reasons he was hardly proud of.
He had a few classes with William M. Spears. There were always a few bouts of name confusion a few seemed content to see in jest, including William M. Spears himself. He would just heartily chuckle and give a few jokes at the situation: "Oh are you mistaking me for a guy with actual brains?" William T. Spears kept his mouth shut and tried to keep from glaring at him.
William M. Spears was better known as Bill, but of course the brass didn't use nicknames. Bill Spears was a bit of a husky fellow and he didn't bathe as much as he should. He seemed more interested in socializing than taking his work seriously, though he was always bragging about high marks.
Sharing a name with this lout was more than a little annoying. It was because of him that the properly addressed William Spears had to use a middle name he endeavored to keep as secret as possible. That plan was now out in the drink and all thanks to this imbecile.
It was nothing worth fretting over, or so he told himself over and over again. He didn't have to share what the T stood for, though he was just waiting for the inevitable questions. Perhaps it served him right, perhaps this was the perfect reward for his own ignorance and misguided pride. His middle name stood for a part of himself he should have been proud of; instead it had been a lightening rod for all sorts of ignobility.
None of that should have mattered. He was dead now, this was his afterlife. Heritage meant nothing to the reapers, or so the brass insisted.
"All your mortal lives are in the past tense; whoever you were as a human is now posthumous. You are now all personnel of the Reaper Dispatch Association; all are equal in death."
It was a speech they liked to give a lot, though it was a naïve ideal in practice. That didn't stop all the little conversations William overheard in the hallways, in the dormitories, in the library, or wherever.
"Bloody Irishman, no wonder he's an idiot."
"Ya think he's a Jew? Never heard a name like that on a decent Christian."
"Few educated men have names like that, such is the reality of this country. Go easy on him, he can't help being inferior."
Yes, everyone was equal in death. Maybe old habits died a slow death; hopefully the fully invested reapers actually practiced what was preached. Or perhaps this nonsense would continue on for the next thousand years.
And now William was being repeatedly referred to by his middle initial: the first letter of a middle name that could turn him into another lightening rod. His middle name reflected his heritage; a heritage he really did not want to be too out in the open in such a new situation.
The T was for Takeshi. It wasn't exactly a properly English or even European name. It was Japanese, as was his mother.
His name was perfectly fitting for a boy of military heritage and it reflected the two very different cultures that comprised his blood. William means "willful," Takeshi meant "fierce." It was an equal contribution by Samuel and Nijimi Spears, both taking an equal claim on their firstborn son.
The story went that Papa single-handedly saved three large vessels from both a coming typhoon and a powerful band of pirates. The exact details always changed with each telling of the story, though the end was always the same. A Japanese dignitary was aboard one of the ships and promised Captain Spears a great reward for saving his life. A few months later, the trader met Captain Spears with his youngest daughter; promising her hand in marriage.
It was a lovely story for the children, one that William actually believed. He always thought English culture was new to his foreign mother. She spoke impeccable English with barely a hint of an accent and wore modest yet stylish English dresses. He always figured she had an ease with languages, or father was an able teacher. He always wondered if she actually enjoyed dressing like another English lady, or perhaps missed the robes of her homeland.
William never met his maternal grandfather; he always assumed he returned to Japan to his rich life. William grew up to bear him some measure of resentment; he thought it was dreadful for a man to give up his child in that manner. Such was the culture, such was a common story with exotic brides and English husbands. That didn't mean he liked it any more.
William was not raised to see women as property, but as people who lived in poor standing simply by their sex. His parents were a rare equal partnership. Some foreign wives were by their husbands' sides to be seen and not heard. Some foreign wives would be forced into being baptized and ordered to anglicize their names. Neither was the case with William's parents.
Samuel was a firm man, but one of great tolerance and knowledge. Nijimi was a gentle woman, but one of fierce personal strength and great intelligence. They were equal partners in true love and understanding. Neither dominated, both had an amazing ability to compromise. It was an example by which William, his two sisters, and his younger brother were raised.
Nijimi essentially raised them; Samuel was at sea nearly always. She was most caring and most assertive with the proper balance of both. She didn't leave the discipline or caring to a nanny or teacher. The four of them had both, though mama's rule was law. There was no fear of mother, not was she any type of pushover. When papa was home, both contributed to over dinner conversations and both could be heard discussing household decisions after the children had gone to bed.
Nijimi shared her heritage with her children. She had her own lounge decorated with bonsai trees and paintings of mythical figures. There would be origami creations on the Christmas tree and on top of birthday cakes. The children grew up hearing stories about yokai and brave samurai. All this coexisted with father's dramatic tales of sea monsters and storms, of exotic lands and their fascinating people. Father had his own collection of artifacts and a story for every one of them. The children's upbringing had a hint of adventure, though it was all normal to them.
The house in Exeter was their world, when they went out everyone knew about their prestigious family. For the most part no one dared speak ill of Captain Spears or his family in the earshot of them or anyone else who respected him. William occasionally heard a few whispered remarks about his mother's heritage. He stood up in her defense once to a group of ladies twittering amongst themselves. Mama, however, pulled him away.
"Stupidity is only fueled by anger, such remarks are best ignored," she said.
Such occurrences were rare. As far as the children were concerned their family was like anyone else's.
William was 12 when he announced his intentions to remove himself from this protective world. He spoke to his father on one of his rare nights home. Standing as straight as a soldier, he announced he wanted to join the His Majesty's Navy like his father and his father before him.
Papa gave him a pat on the head in response.
"I'm proud of you, William," he said. "You will make a fine sailor. You'll have to wait until you're at least 15. But you have my word I will do all I can to get you a good post."
But the encouragement also came with ample warnings. Samuel wanted his son to fully understand what he was getting into. It wasn't going to just be serving royalty, wearing a nice uniform, and going on adventures. There were several conversations of this nature; Samuel didn't skimp on the details. Through every story of scurvy and whippings and the savage acts of pirates, William listened intently. He was actually appreciative of knowing full well what he was getting himself into; then again he was always told how much of a mature boy he was.
William was 13 when his parents sat him down for one story in particular. The story was of a smuggler and a thief named Akihito Takashima: his grandfather. Both told him the whole story of his heritage. The narrative itself was similar though the details were a bit different. In this case "trader" was replaced with "smuggler," "caught in a storm" was replaced by simply caught.
Japan had a longstanding isolationist policy; no foreigners were allowed in and no native was allowed to leave. The only exception was permission for the Dutch East India Company to enter the port of Dejima. It was through here that William's grandparents left Japan by stowing away aboard a Dutch ship. He settled in various ports around Europe and North Africa and raised a family in illegitimate riches.
That was until Captain Spears landed on his trail. Takashima avoided the noose by singing like a songbird about all his contacts, leading to quite a few captures. The altruistic captain put in a good word about him; he could be useful as an informant, his organization and command of languages would make him a fit for legitimate customs work (closely supervised of course).
Takashima ended up walking the straight and narrow and settled into a modest life in London. A year later he did offer Captain Spears his daughter's hand in marriage, saying it was out of appreciation. Mama said her father died five years later.
"No he was not an honest man, though he was an honorable one," she said. "He did what he could for his family. He knew there was more for him outside his country's backward world. That was the world I was raised with, Japanese traditions and European culture. You are of two cultures, William, and we wanted you to get the best of both though in a more stable and safe place than mine."
"William we felt this was a good age for you to know this," papa said. "In the fleet you may well be going after pirates and thieves. Understand these men run outside the laws, most have committed atrocious deeds, though they are still men. It is your actions that define you; not your blood or the reputation of your kin. One of your grandfathers was a great commander, the other ran outside the law, you will write your own story, as will your children."
It was a lesson that struck William hard, one he promised to always remember no matter how far he would rise or how long his career would span.
Then there were other warnings.
"They know who I am, they will know who your mother is, some may even know who of her father," papa wrote to him in a letter months before he left for his first post. "Ignore any man's attempts to judge you based on your mother's blood. There may be many, you will not be as protected as you were."
He promised to heed this warning as well. He endeavored to go in with his head held high and let no man's judgment move him. Warnings and promises were nice in principle, though reality always proved different.
Shortly after his fifteenth birthday, with the influence of his father and his family reputation, Midshipman William Spears boarded his first ship and embarked on his career. As predicted, many would know of his mother's heritage. Most respected him, God forbid anything disparaging got back to Captain Spears. That didn't prevent everything.
Most comments were subtle. There were so many uses of the phrases "despite your heritage," "partially English blood," "half properly bred," "tainted," "English in name only," and all the other manner of descriptions. They were small pricks at first, after a few years they were like a thousand needles. The older he became, the higher he rose, the less protection he had.
He was referred to as "Mandarin" or "Chinaman" more times than he could count (even if it was rather inaccurate). It was better than "slant-eye" or "mongrel." One captain made him pledge he would serve no flag but Britain's.
"One can never be too careful with a sailor of foreign blood, no matter how loyal his father may be," he was told.
The higher officers treated him with a little more respect than some of the lower ones. He was referred to as "my yellow friend," "Chinaman," stained."
He was reminded repeatedly how fortunate he was to "look like an Englishman." Others of Far East blood had a little more color to their skin, the shape of their eyes was only slightly more rounded than their Asian parent. William's features more favored his father. His skin bore only a tinge of color like one might see in a Spaniard or Venetian, the shape of his eyes only slightly narrower. He was told by more than a few ladies he had strikingly handsome features, though he paid these cheap compliments little mind.
"You look like a proper Briton, no one can tell," one officer said to him, apparently it was supposed to be a compliment.
Occasionally he would meet a few sailors who knew the story of his maternal grandfather.
"Yer a pirate just like you're slant-eyed granddad," someone told him once.
A few also liked to add his mother was tainted by association, though he didn't even bother with a reaction. It could have been a way to provoke him, doing so would only waste his time with unneeded troubles.
He always had one reaction and one only; pretend it was never said, ignore it, go about your business. William was glad for his even temper, even the crudest of remarks failed to elicit a reaction. A lack of reaction, however, did not mean it wasn't felt.
Then he was put in command of his own ship; at last he himself was a captain like his aging father. Now he was Captain Spears, now he was now in charge of his own reputation. Of all the things people would whisper about, his heritage ceased being one of them.
Yes there were always a couple murmurs of "he's half-Mandarin" but even those went quiet with the more pirate heads he delivered. Occasionally there were rumors about consorting with Japanese sea demons to gain power or his ancestry gave him such a bloody hatred of pirates. Fairy tales told by a bunch of idiots.
The story of his maternal grandfather did give him a little more patience when dealing with pirates, or so he told himself repeatedly. He knew when to cut deals and he knew who was worthy of going back into polite society. It was his reasoning when anyone questioned his rather brutal methods; it was also his main defense if anyone outright accused him of being a butcher.
He knew full well the reality that such occasions, however, were rare. Perhaps though they were enough to ease a certain part of William's conscience. Most of the time he showed no mercy for the smugglers and pirates he captured. No reformed thieves were promising him their daughters, the few who got off at port alive were never heard from again by the fleet.
Ultimately his reputation was secure; at last he stopped giving a toss about people's opinions. He overcame all of them, now he had the reins.
The story was supposed to end with his tragic, untimely death at a young age. He should have gone to Heaven or the temples of his ancestors in an afterlife of eternal peace. William, though, wasn't expecting the Pearly Gates when that man in the black suit approached him before all went dark. He halfway expected a long drop to fire and brimstone, hoping perhaps his deeds against sinners were enough to spare him that eternity.
But no, the Reaper had other plans for him; plans he willingly accepted, though plans that would put him back at square one.
Once upon a time he led a ship of 300 men, now he was a simple underling. Captain William Spears was dead; William T. Spears was now just another student. Perhaps he deserved an afterlife of quiet study and training. It was a speech he gave himself every time he was passed over in class for another hand or had a librarian bark at him that he was there past hours.
Heritage, station, race, creed, human reputation, all of that was meaningless to the reapers. It was message drilled into all of the recruits from the first day they assembled.
Everyone had the same black suit as a uniform, everyone bore the same training scythe for a weapon, everyone had the same flimsy pair of spectacles to enhance the vision they all sacrificed.
Even everyone had their hair cut above the neckline. Processing for William meant being shoved into a chair, his shoulder-length locks snipped at the ponytail, and tossed out to continue processing. In this place a ponytail or a few curls were only status symbols that one was established as a reaper; it wasn't a symbol of social class, profession, or culture. Many older reapers did have their hair closely cropped, perhaps another symbol of this realm's uniformity. William wasn't exactly complaining, he now wondered why he wore his hair long in the first place.
It was all a nice sentiment, though practice could only be a different matter entirely. Asking questions about one's human life was considered rude in the extreme, though that barely prevented anyone from trying. Everyone here pretended to be so above status, though he overheard so many under the breath gripes shared between colleagues.
"If they start recruiting colored men, you know they're really desperate?"
"…oh tell me that when you're collecting a filthy Chinaman from the noose…"
"Did you hear about those lepers? Indians all of them, like that's a surprise. Those bastards bathe in their own excrement."
Yes, everyone was equal in death. And he was now being repeatedly referred to by his middle initial. No one had asked what it stood for yet, though it was only a matter of time. He would soundly tell whoever asked if was none of their business, that would be the end to it.
This would be his quick answer and he readied himself to give it. He would summarily dismiss that the T even stood for anything, the middle name his parents gave him to signify his heritage would be wiped away outside the mortal realm.
Besides all this would be over the moment he graduated, all the formalities in address would be unnecessary once he and William M. Spears were no longer in the same place all the time. That clod would go back to being Bill Spears, William would reclaim his name minus the offending middle initial and enjoy his afterlife of service with no question of his heritage.
After all, there was no heritage here but that of reaper kind. His shameful Oriental blood, a magnet for the scorn of the more "proper" English meant nothing after death. The blood of his mother meant nothing. He was just a reaper now, not a man of two proud cultures. The tiniest thought of it gnawed at his insides.
William took a small amount of comfort in the reality the majority of his name was quintessentially English. He could happily hide while all those of foreign heritage received the occasional rude question and even ruder comment.
The reaper's obsession with alphabetizing occasionally put William in the same meeting room or the same class with one such character with a name of curious origims: Grell Sutcliff. He had to admit he sometimes questioned this one's heritage as well, or even if his forename was his Christian name.
"Sutcliff" was as English as one could get, though "Grell" was decidedly German. It was usually a family name, it also meant "loud" and "irascible;" two traits that fit this fellow impeccably. William wondered if he gave himself that name or if he was unfortunate enough to be baptized with it. Yes, "unfortunate," just like the middle name William was baptized with.
Sutcliff himself was clearly as European as could be, from the pale skin to the bright ginger hair. His manner of speech was that of a high class Londoner, which was almost surprising considering his temperament.
Thankfully William had avoided spending too much time in his presence, though there were more than a few stories. The story that he had molded his teeth to points right in Alteration class was confirmed by the annoyed instructor. The story that he had pinned down one fellow student and tried to cut off one of his fingers was a rumor with several different details depending on the telling. There were a few other colorful tales floating about that no one could confirm. William doubted most of them were true; Sutcliff was still in the academy after all.
It was unsurprising that few had kind opinions of him, even least surprising was the little buzzings about him and his reputation. One thing William heard mentioned a few times was his forename.
"Does that sound like a proper English name to you?"
"You think he might be a Hessian? Maybe that's how he got clipped off."
"Don't they say Germans are brutes anyway?"
It was one more way for his fellows to spread rumors and insults about him. Even from proper European stock he was still judged for his heritage. William felt so bloody relieved at this. He knew, however, he was likely listening for these particular comments. There were so many more colorful ways people spoke of Grell Sutcliff other than his alleged heritage. William knew he was more than a little sensitive to the topic, perhaps too much so.
He found himself sitting just a few seats away from the man in question in the library one night. William took his seat and just got out his pen and textbook when he looked over and saw a mess of red hair off to the side. Sutcliff was sitting and reading, not paying any mind to anything around him. William was content to do the same.
A few students passed by him, then he heard a few light groans and a few whispers: "Oh God he's here too." William looked up, seeing the two looking over at the couch where Sutcliff was sitting. William went back to his note taking, ignoring the others.
"Is there a problem?" a calm voice growled from the couch.
William rolled his eyes, he looked at his books debating if he should pick them up and leave or just ignore the whole scene. A part of him looked forward to busting their heads together the moment a punch was thrown. Perhaps this was a brutish form of entertainment. He kept his eyes glued to his book, though his ear was more tuned to the current scene.
"Not if you don't create one," one of the pair replied.
"Did you hear me saying anything first," Sutcliff replied, "or are you just looking for some trouble from me?"
"Jim, just bloody leave him," the other said.
Thankfully William heard footsteps walking away.
"Nice evening," Jim said. "Grell," he said the name with an exaggerated guttural German sounding R.
Sutcliff let out a shrill, chilling cackle.
"Gute nacht," Sutcliff practically sang. "Mach es dir doch selbst."
William raised his eyebrows, though he couldn't hold back a little smirk. He knew exactly what Sutcliff had said and it was exceedingly rude.
"The bloody hell you say to me?" Jim snapped back. William heard feet going across the carpet.
"A simple good evening to such a fine gentleman," Sutcliff replied with a little snicker. "Simply a few words from the language of my former people."
"Just leave the nutter alone, Jim," the other reaper said.
William briefly looked up to see the two walking in the opposite direction, shaking their heads. He looked back down at his book, then briefly looked up again at Sutcliff. Sutcliff sat with one leg over the other, his eyes fixed on William. William stared back at him, seeing him continuing to stare with a blank expression. Sutcliff then smiled a little, his upper lip curling to reveal a few pointed teeth. William simply adjusted his spectacles and looked back down at his work. Whether this one continued to stare at him was his own business.
Sutcliff later rose and walked past him, though slowed down right by his desk.
"Enjoy the show?" Sutcliff said.
"Merely admiring your nerve with those idiots," William replied in German.
He could feel Sutcliff lean down over him, though he didn't bother looking up.
"I seem to be surrounded by them," Sutcliff hissed, also in German. "Simple little boys like taking pleasure from simple little things."
William could feel his breath against his face and smell the tinge of wine he must have had a little earlier. William looked up, seeing Sutcliff's demented sneer just an inch from his own face. William simply looked at him with a calm expression.
"Quite right," he responded back.
Sutcliff's smile relaxed and he pulled away, a finger snapping William's book shut as he slowly walked away. William gave a little sigh, looking over and happily seeing Sutcliff out of the library.
William tried to give the encounter no thought, though something stuck to him. It was hardly Grell Sutcliff being his usual, charming self. No, it was the way Sutcliff reacted to those imbeciles; he laughed them off, he insulted them in German and readily dismissed them.
Germans were hardly outcasts in Britain, they were merely foreigners; Sutcliff had nothing to hide…and William did? The thought of it made him ill. That was indeed what his mother's race had become for him; a horrible secret. He was given the middle name Takeshi to celebrate his heritage, now he just wanted it wiped away and all thanks to a bunch of small-minded idiots.
Grell Sutcliff didn't give a toss; the reaper with the scariest temperament William had encountered was so flippant about the matter. William considered himself of a much more pleasant comportment, what the hell was his problem? He was in a different realm, he was a completely different being; why take the outlook of someone too scared of a little human ignorance.
"It is your actions that define you; not your blood or the reputation of your kin."
Papa told him that during that night of important revelations, mama backing up his words; the two as equals. Why should he honor one culture and ignore the other?
She was his mother; ever so calm, so uncaring of the world's cruelties. She was always such a gentle, yet strong woman.
Then the memory returned, one the crossover nearly took. She clutched his hand hard and leaned more into his face as everything grew darker. She brought him onto the world in peace and comfort, she saw him off with the same. How dare he dishonor her.
The next time the name William T. Spears was called out in class, he did not mentally flinch. A few times after, he heard the T with a sense of pride.
No one ever asked what the T stood for; perhaps it was for the best. It could now become his personal token of pride, the one thing that stuck out in the face of all the ignoramuses yet they would never know the full truth. Sometimes he felt himself almost smile whenever someone said the T.
At last his training was completed. By some cruel sense of irony, or rather a humorous result of the reapers' obsession with alphabetizing, he would get Grell Sutcliff as his partner in the final exam. Yes he was violent, yes he was ill tempered, yes there were threats and punches, William kept his focus on their task. He would learn of Sutcliff's vanity, obsession with high fashion, not to mention how openly he expressed interest in other men.
In the end William would put him in his bloody place. In the end Sutcliff would save his life when their client's record went berserk. Perhaps he gained a new respect for him though he would hardly admit it, especially as Sutcliff announced intentions to woo him.
William T. Spears and William M. Spears would both graduate from the Academy and were thrown in the mix with the rest of the reapers. No one called Bill Spears "William M. Spears" unless it involved official business. William T. Spears, however, regularly addressed himself with his middle initial.
Then it happened; then a few did ask what the initial stood for. He simply replied that it was a personal matter, happily leaving it at that. It was indeed his own proud secret.
Author's Notes:
-This story was first hinted at in This Immortal Coil, but I knew jack and squat about Japanese history. Then I was tipped off by (of all things) Hetalia and The History of Mankind about the isolation of Japan. Sure enough I learned of the isolation policy of the Edo period. Hence I kind of had to backtrack for William's backstory. This also means William didn't tell Grell the entire story in Coil.
-All of this takes place in the 18th century, which for England was the age of Colonialism. Interracial marriages were perfectly legal in Britain and were relatively common, especially between Indian women and British men during the colonization of India. Unfortunately, just because said marriages were legal didn't mean they were entirely accepted by "polite" society.
-The German phrase Grell uses was one I found online with some extra input from my buddy Sweet Little Vampire. From what I understand it pretty much means "go fuck yourself."