AN: Heyy I'm really excited for this story, but there are a few things to note. 1. This is my very first fanfiction. I have never written anything this long with this many dialogues. I am both very proud and nervous at the same time. I apologize for any grammatical errors and weird sentence structures. I guess I'm trying to say, please be nice!
2. This was supposed to be a one-shot, but one thing led to another and I ended up writing more than I anticipated. So expect a few more chapters after this. Oh and also, the entire story was inspired from a quote in Game of Thrones, "not today" from the Arya's scene. But other than that, it has nothing to do with the show.
3. Yao is the Grim Reaper in the story, and Ivan is a human. Obviously I'll be using their human names, and I apologize for possible OOC from Yao. To be fair, this is how I imagine Yao from the imperial era to be XD
4. This is Rochu 100%, but nothing will be explicit. Other characters may be mentioned.
5. I do not own Hetalia (obviously)
6. I am very sorry for this long note! Enjoy!
"And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death."-Revelation 6:8
Darkness eclipsed him with the deepest of the flaming color. Millenniums of ever-lasting immortality had made him immune to sentiments and human emotions. The Grim Reaper knew the fragility of human life, pitied the endless struggles those feeble creatures had to go through, but most importantly, felt indifference toward all those that were chained down to the cycle of life. He was Death himself, and he was glorious. With lengthy black hair tumbling over his loosely worn red robe, he was the embodiment of black and red: the darkness that seemed to eat away at the remaining whisper of life, and the crimson blood coursing through the veins of every living creature. Death took away everything mercilessly; death did not discriminate between rich or poor; but when faced with death, there is only one thing to say…
"Not today."
The Grim Reaper stared disbelievingly at the silver-haired boy. Perhaps he had underestimated this strange creature, as he tried to recall how he came upon the dying boy.
There was always so much to collect during times of war and famine. After seeing deteriorating corpses for millions of years, the immortal was no stranger to human cruelty and man-caused violence. However, even after all those years, he never became fond of Russia, and the deity that resided there. General Winter was a selfish man, the divinity concluded; doesn't he know I'm busy as it is, without people dying from mere cold?
Soon his point was proven, as he spotted sickness and despair spreading on the cold streets of Moscow. Beggars lined the sidewalks, while aristocrats wearing expansively tailored clothing under fur coats busily averted coming to contact with anything that reeked of poverty. Death did not choose people as he pleased; he took people whenever the situation presented itself, saved for a few exceptions. But right now he could sense life slipping away from a little bundle of tattered clothing huddled close to a lamp post. As he walked closer, he could see the outline of a little boy who was wearing way less than he should in this minus thirty degrees temperature. With only a thread-bare scarf to keep him warm, the little boy's hand gripped tightly around a broken bowl containing not a single coin.
"Hello little one, how are you?" Death kneeled down and asked; only people who were close to dying can see and hear him.
At the sound of a voice directed towards him, the boy's head snapped up and thought the person standing in front of him to be breathtaking. When the immortal was given a clear view of his face, he was surprised by the bright amethyst radiating back at him. For a child probably starved of nutrient for months, his cheeks were round and rosy. Death could not help but feel discomfort at the sight of this purple-eyed child who was no more than five years old. He blamed the strange feelings on the eyes. After all, he couldn't recall anyone who possessed such peculiar eyes, nor the fondness emitted within them.
"I'm…um…you're very pretty!" the child flushed at what came out of his mouth, and chastised himself for not answering the question.
"You think I'm pretty?" the immortal chuckled. It was not often that people called him that. Devastatingly beautiful, yes. Deviliciously handsome, yes. But never just a simple "pretty" used to describe mortal girls who were a little above average. Perhaps he should be insulted, but the feeling that surfaced was not an unkind one…
"Da! Your hair reminds me of burning charcoal and your lips…well, they're bright red like apples." The child's voice interrupted the Grim Reaper's train of thoughts, and he found himself once again staring into the deep violet of his eyes.
While the deity observed the child like a hawk investigating its unusual prey, the silver-haired boy thought he was in the presence of an angel. He did fulfill his wish. He had long lost count of how many freezing nights where he desperately wished for warmth, for anything signs that showed that his life wasn't utterly meaningless. But nobody cared; no one bothered to even acknowledge a little boy dying in the cold. He didn't expect anyone to help anymore; he just wished to not be alone. So when this man who smelled of iron and peony appeared in front of him, it was as if his heart slowed down and his breathing became faint.
"It's been so long since I talked to anyone. They all just ignored me… maybe that's because I've been a bad kid? Well mama certainly seemed to think so," the child more or less muttered to himself. "See, I have all these marks to prove it!" the child smiled as he proceeded to extend his painfully emaciated arm covered with bruises and scars. While the immortal was not shown anything he hadn't seen before, he was bothered by this boy's cheerful tone. More so, he was bothered by the fact that he felt bothered over such a feeble creature.
"But that doesn't matter now because you're here." The boy smiled brightly. "You're like a sunflower full of light! You're my light!" he giggled as he prided himself on making such an excellent comparison.
Sunflower? A flower so plain and dull that would make itself drop its head in shame when placed next to other flowers. And light? Oh dear, that boy is in it for a surprise, the immortal thought. But instead of showing disgust at the obviously ill-comparison, his was intrigued to know more about this misguided soul.
"What's your name, boy?" said Death as he wondered what caused the sudden curiosity of knowing a mere mortal's name, never mind a dying one at that.
"Ivan Braginsky, sir." The child blushed at the notion of telling his name to such a magnificent person. Truth to be told, he didn't have a last name. He didn't remember ever having a father, but he did recall once seeing a man who was dressed from head to toe in luxury and being referred to by the last name.
"Ivan..." the immortal tested the name on his lips, but before he could decide his opinion on it, he was disturbed by the child's sudden question. Well, he should have seen it coming.
"And what is your name?" childish ignorance and full of eagerness was this question directed toward the contemplating deity.
He supposed he had many names. They all liked to create titles for him, but none of which seemed proper for this child's question. Then an idea came over his head. It was a cruel one.
"My name is Yao. Nice to meet you, little Ivan," he smiled at the star-struck child. Oh, how ironic was the name he had given himself! Despite being the epitome of darkness and despair, his name was taken from a Chinese character representing light. Well if Ivan thought I was his light, might as well call myself that. The immortal decided to humor both himself and the young human child since he would soon be taking him away anyhow.
"Yao, Yao~ what a nice name," Ivan purred and extended out his hands attempting to reach Yao, to his surprise, the black-haired man got hold of his hands first and brought them to his cheeks.
"Little Ivan, would you like to stay with me forever?" Yao murmured softly as he nuzzled against Ivan's small hands. His blinding golden orbs penetrating into the equally glowing lavender ones, as if it was seeking to engulf the boy in whole.
Ivan's breathing slowed down, and his visions became blurry all except for the figure in front of him. This must be love, thought Ivan as he realized for the first time in his life that he was not alone in the cold.
"I want to be with you forever and forever…" Ivan replied in a hushed voice as he no longer could find the strength to answer. Strange how he could be so happy yet so tired at the same time that he just wanted to fall asleep in Yao's arms.
Noticing Ivan's drowsiness, Yao figured he didn't have much time left. "Well, would you like to come with me to some place far away from here?"
"Does that place have lots and lots of sunflowers?" Ivan looked up at him expectantly.
Yao chuckled at the simplicity of the question, "Yes, and delicious food too!" Even though the afterlife was nothing like the fantasy he was painting for the child, Yao was impatient to sink his teeth into the radiating soul.
Ivan signed happily, "I want to live there with Yao Yao…but."
"But what?" a hint of annoyance seeped through Yao's furrowed brows.
"Not today."
Excuse me?! What an insolent child, thought Yao as he became shocked that a mere human was defying Death himself. The Grim Reaper did not need anyone's permission to take a life or not, however he was surprised that a child who seemed so smitten with him a second ago would straightforwardly reject the idea of a paradise with him eternally. Even though he was feeding him lies, Ivan was the one who declared him to be his light.
Yao's shift in attitude unbeknownst to Ivan, the little boy continued, "Although I can't wait to go to that place, I still can't leave yet." His eyes dimmed down as he remembered the promise he made with the little girl and himself. No matter how bright the place Yao described to him seemed to be, he had a feeling in his stomach that it just wasn't the right time. Good things come to those who wait…even though he couldn't seem to remember where he heard it from.
"So you rather stay here in the cold than come with me?" Yao's eyes darkened as he spit out those words. It wasn't so much of a question, since it was more of a verification. He could snatch away the little boy's life right here and now; he could silence his heart beat this very second. However something stopped him.
"No! I want to go!" Ivan exclaimed, confused as to why his new friend was mad at him, "But I still have unfinished business here."
Maybe he did underestimate him. Maybe this human weakling did know who he truly was…Yao did not like being played with: to provoke his interest only to deny him of the pleasure. Surely Ivan knew how dangerous it was to cheat Death?
"Unfinished business? What can you possibly accomplish here?" said Yao smugly.
"I want to prove them wrong." The child declared, "I want to make them sorry for everything they ever did to me." Gone was the innocence, replaced by calm malevolence with streaks of vengeance.
For a moment there was silence. The world became quiet except for the sound of falling snowflakes. Then the peaceful solitude was interrupted by Yao's laughter.
He could not believe what he was hearing! That brat thought he could change his fate just like that?! Throughout centuries and centuries of being both a perpetrator and spectator of human despair, Yao had seen people struggle against their inevitable path. Humans were born alone, and they would die alone. No one was an exception. This boy would soon learn the truth about the world. He thought that this world was cruel to him now? He thought that the cold was unbearable? Well he had seen nothing yet.
Yao decided to indulge himself. He would leave the boy and Ivan himself would prove how fruitless his wish was. Yao didn't even have to lift a single finger, and Ivan would succumb to Death. What an interesting case this had turned out to be, it had been a while since anyone had caught his interest.
"Why are you laughing…?" Ivan pouted.
"Ha ha, I'm not laughing at you…" Yao tried to sound as sincere as possible, "I'm, um…just thinking that you are a very ambitious person." Smiling, he ran his fingers through Ivan's platinum hair hoping to conceal his ominous thoughts.
"That doesn't explain why you laughed…" Ivan muttered to himself, while trying to hide the blush spreading on his cheeks.
"I guess that's it, little Ivan," pulling his hands away, Yao stood up. "Since you're not coming with me today… this is goodbye for now."
"What! Yao Yao is leaving me?" realizing that his new, and possibly only, friend was leaving him, Ivan tried to grab onto Yao's hands. However all he grasped was cold air.
"Don't worry Ivan, I'll be back," replied Yao with his back to the child.
"You'll be back…ha…that's right, Yao is different from the others, Yao won't leave me," cried Ivan softly. With the man slowly disappearing from his view, Ivan mustered all the strength he had and yelled, "Yao! The next time you see me, I'll be strong!"
Leaving the child further behind among bodies of beggars and corpses, Yao smiled to himself. That kid was too weak to do anything; it was only a matter a time before he would pay him another visit. Or perhaps Ivan could prove him wrong and grew up to be a force to be reckoned with. It didn't matter; the end result would be the same. Ivan was bound to him. Everyone was.
Black hair fluttering in the wind, trailed by a scent of blood and peonies, Death, no…Yao wondered on the cold streets of Moscow. Despite having just encountered the lavender-eyed child, he was excited. Yes, excited, a word long forgotten by him. He was looking forward to the next time they meet where he would take him away. It would not be long now, for time was on his side. However as reassuring as that sounded, Yao could not help but feel a twinge in his heart, if he had a heart. Just as humans were chained down to him, they were also inescapable to time. The next time he would see Ivan, the amethyst-eyed little boy with chubby cheeks would be gone. Yao didn't know why he cared about this insignificant fact, or why he could not forget that smile, but he did know that he was alone, and would always be alone. Maybe he was the pathetic one. Chuckling to himself, Yao disappeared among the crowds.
AN: Ok, first of all I avoided using their names in the beginning because Death did not have a name, and since I wrote it kinda from his perspective I thought it would be neat to only start using their names when Ivan told Death his name, and Death invented a name for himself (even though he did it as a joke). Yes, the little girl Ivan made a promise to is Natalya, and this will come into play later. I have already planned most of the story out, and I will definitely update if there are reviews.
Haha just kidding! But I really would appreciate any form of feedback, and I would love to hear what you guys think! Thank you for reading! Hugs and Kisses ^J^
