"Cancer," The nurse said, annoyed.
The pinkettes parents stared in shock. Cancer. Amu Hinamori, their daughter. Cancer?
"...Cancer?" They finally asked in unison, both sounding immensley terrified for their daughter. The nurse groaned, apparently annoyed with them.
"Terminal," She said icily, staring at them with cold eyes. "Your daughters dead."
Amu Hinamori, their daughter. Cancer. Terminal. Death. But how? How could fate be so damn cruel? They did nothing to deserve the loss of their daughter. They cared for her, spoiled her, praised her, laughed with her, was their for her. And now she would be leaving them forever. To never return. Midori began to sob, turning to Tsumugu and muffling her sounds into his shoulder. Tsumugu wrapped gentle, protective arms around her - his little pink bird. Dead. Gone?
The nurse looked at them impatiently, before speaking. "She has two days. How sha'l you prepare the funeral?"
..x.
-xXx- I dreamed someone loved me. No hope, no harm - just another false alarm. -xXx-
A group of friends stood at the hospital bed, either sobbing or looking at the pinkette sadly. Her heart monitor had stopped - meaning her final breath. She was deathly pale - her golden eyes were still open - they were such a dull, dry color. Her lips were slightly parted, but no breath came out of it. She lied perfectly still on the bed. A girl with long, curly hair began crying.
"Why, Amu? Why you? Why one of us?" She screamed, tears puring down her face as she did so. A boy with brown-red hair stepped in.
"HINAMORI! OPEN YOUR EYES! Be strong! I KNOW YOU'L GET THROUGH THIS!" He yelled, catching the attention of the nurses.
"E-everyone!" A blonde cried out, tears running down his face as he attempted being responsible. "Hi-hinamori-san... sh-shes... get the doctor, get the doctor!" The princley blonde commanded, now turning 100% serious.
A purple haired boy nodded, the only one not crying. He had a serious expression - as if he just knew Amu wasn't dead yet. He hit the button, calling the nurses. He sighed, and turned to a girl with light brown pigtails. She was sobbing hysterically. A boy with green hair and glasses you couldn't see his eyes from. Just the ocassional tears streaking down his cheeks signaled any sign of his emotion. And then, the deathly pale pinkette, sitting entirely still on the hospital bed, her eyes still glossed over in nothing but dullness.
"Move, move!" Two men ordered, bringing a black bag, as he picked up the pinkette and shoved her in it. Everyone started screaming, even the princely blonde, after that. It was pure pandemonium. And the nurse was just standing there, murmuring her occasional, "Im sorry. Im so sorry." The purple haired boy shed his first tear, looking at his companions as they finaly gave up and cried. Cried untill it hurt. And we knew then we could never leave this place - not without help, atleast.
-xXx- I'd rather die than be with you. Alternative granted. -xXx-
"Ow!" The pinkette shrieked, landing on a black floor, with light you could but couldn't see streaming through the mere air. She blinked, utterly confused and oblivious. 'Where am I, and what am I doing here' were the typical questions running through her mind. Then she blinked, realization running through her.
I was at the hospital, diagnosed with cancer. My parents kept crying and crying, and telling me they were sorry - two days later, my friends came. I was so happy - I thought I'd never see them again. But then I had felt dizzy. My head was spinning. I told Nqgihiko to call the nurse, but then everything went still. I was seeing, but not seeing. I saw them, mouths opened wide, maybe screaming. My vision was turning white at the time - it was so hard to tell.
Tears were running down their face, and they seemed so sad. I tried to move, to tell them they looked like angels under my white vision, but I couldn't. I just couldn't. Then two men came in, and then my vision completely whitened. And then... I woke up here, she concluded, a wet drop sliding down her cheek at the memory. But... it didn't feel like water. It felt hot, thick, and slow moving down - it smelled like sal- blood. Had she just cried blood?
She immediatley wiped her hand across her cheek and examined her hand. It was smeared red - and made her stomache squirm. She gagged, covering her mouth, but as she put her hand to her mouth, she could taste the salty blood on her lips. She screamed, yanking her hand away, with such force she fell back. Her lips were covered with blood, and the shock only shocked her into more bloody tears, leaving her miserable. A laugh was heard. The laugh wasn't kind. Wasn't mean. It wasn't sincere, but evil. Entirely evil and brilliant. Footsteps echoed on the jet black floor, and the pinkette was crawling backwards away from the mystery person.
She backed into a wall. Had this stupid wall just appeared? She asked herself, smart ass-like. The evil laughter only got closer, and she hissed to herself... wait, no, aloud. What the hell was wrong with her? She was shocked at her realistic hiss, and finally, a man came into focus. He had a bit of a tan, blue hair, with beatiful and sadistic indigo eyes. He had a smirk, or maybe a sneer on his face. It seemed to never leave or falter as he looked me up and down, before nodding approval to no one in particular. She glared, feeling less intimidating than she expected she would be.
"W-why are you staring?" She asked, her cool 'n spicy attitude kicking up as she glared her iciest, which, in her case, is not so icy. "Something on my face? Where am I? Are you some creep?" She interogated other questions, and he continued to sneer and smirk at her.
"You are standing before my judgement," The masochist said smugly, looking down at her with more than superiority. It was like he... owned her. Or something of that matter. "Your to obey me."
The pinkette shook her head, truly convinced she stood before a FREAK, if she was standing before anything. She stood up, brushed herself off, and turned to walk away, but ended up going no where. She was walking, but it led no where. She never got any farther or closer to the blue haired masochist. She stared, terrified. She gave up and fell down.
"But why," She murmured, to herself, or maybe to the cruelty known as Fate. "What exactly do you mean by that, you freak?" She demanded. The masochists smug face never flinched, not even for a halfsecond.
"Because you died, and your standing here before me," He explained, his voice still holding superiority. "You know. . . you heard of me before in scary storys. You dress up as me for halloween." He seemed to casual about death. It frightened her.
"Im DEAD? Bit the dust? Kicked the bucket? Entered Apon A Eternal Rest? Departed? Fell asleep? Expired? Bid Farewell to the Earth? DEAD?" She questioned, getting louder with every way to say death.
The masochist snickered. "Yes, you are as 'dead as a doornail'," He replied, joining her game. "Have you decided who I am?" He asked, with mild interest. The pinkette pretended to look thoughtful, tilting her head to the side while tapping her chin.
"Well, I think your a- listen up, you freak, get me the hell outta this place, and don't give me the 'your dead' crap. If I was dead, how could I talk? Breathe? Listen? Hear? Walk?" She waited for his answer, but only got his smirk. She sighed exasperatedly. "Tell me how I get out of here, and we'll pretend nothing happened, okay, freak?" On her part, this was a generous deal.
The masochist copyed her act of thoughtfulness, before doing exatly as she did, and replying, "No." His smirk turned into a sadistic smile, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace resembling chains. The pinkette stared at it, looking at its enchanting inscriptions all across the chains. He gripped it tightly, balling his hand into a fist around it. "Sha'l I show you who - or in your case, what - I am?" His sadistic smile nearly made her piss her pants. Or, in her case, skirt.
The pinkette was actually thoughtful tihs time. She looked at him, and couldn't help being a little - okay, entirely - curious as to what he was talking about. She gulped, not sure if this was the right decision. Finally, she nodded weakly, looking at him with uncertainty. His smirk returned, as his fist began to glow black.
She watched in awe as a black scyth with chains wrapped around it appereaed in his hsnds, after forming from black light. She looked at him, wondering how this proved anything. That was probably a new feature of weapons these days. But then it hit her. The death thing, his words, his scyth. Oh. Ohhhh. . .
"Grim...," She said slowly, shocked at her simple, yet terrifying word. "Reaper. Grim Reaper. Thats what you are." She stated it as if it was an obvious fact of life. He smirked, as the scyth turned back into a chain necklace with ancient inscriptions. He leaned to her height, and nodded.
"Took you long enough," He smiled, watching her emotionlessly shocked face. "Now, I have an offer."
The pinkette was still in a daze, but she nodded weakly. Then he was right. She was dead. And she might just die again if she got left alone. She had to listen to this masochist. No matter how much she resented him - even though she had just met him. But he was the fucking Grim Reaper. THE. Fucking. Grim. REAPER.
"If I leave you alone, you'l find a way to die again, since I can already tell your a goddamn clutz," He sneered, as if he was agreeing with her previous thoughts. "I'll give you a chance to stay with me until you get the hang of this world humans call a 'afterlife'. If you agree, follow me. If you decline, good luck surviving your first day. You have a minute until I take a decline by default."
The longest sixty seconds of my entire fucking life, the pinkette thought, bewildered. It was really a simple answer. "... I agree," She said after fifty-nine long seconds. the masochist smirked, and held out his hand. The pinkette looked at his hand hesitantly, and reluctantly gave him hers. In a half second, he had her in his arms, him hugging her. The pinkette blushed slightly.
"Wh-whats your deal?" She demanded, struggling in his grasp to no avail. Was it legal to be this strong.
"You," He murmured into her pink, soft hair. "Whats your name?" The pinkette blushed deeper, and sighed as she quit her struggles.
"Amu. Hinamori Amu," She said, trying to sound confident. It came out to squeaky and weak to be mistaken for confidence. He chuckled, making her blush turn tomato. "And you?" She interrogated, hissing again.
He raised his eyebrows in slight interest, as he whispered into her ear, "Tsukiyomi Ikuto," His voice was husky and sexy to her, but if she admitted that, it could've very well meant death, or the alternative, him teasing her. "Just call me Ikuto, though, Amu." He said her name to sexily to be real, too.
-xXx- Welcome to the manor of grim reaper. -xXx-
Amu looked at all the expensive looking paintings, the rose scent, hinting some cinnamon, and the dim lighting, with candles glowing with a honey scent. So there is day and night here, too? She asked herself, snorting aloud. Ikuto looked at her, mildly amused, but turned away soon after. She went back to examining the house.
The carpets looked pretty fucking expensive, to. They were red with black trim, and curtains from the unilluminated windows were pure black. The house had a gothic style to it - for a good reason. The Grim Repaer can't be entirely ecstatic, can he? She was so caught up in taking in the mansion, she didn't know Ikuto had stopped. She bumped into him, the force causing her to fall back and land on her ass.
"Ouch!" She complained, rubbing her now sore butt. "That hurt!" Ikuto laughed his sadistic laugh, before flipping out keys to the room beside him.
"Pay more attention, dear," He remarked, finding a key with a skull on the end, and stuck in the doors lock, turned it, and opened it. "This will be your room."
Without thinking, Amu snorted. "Oh? I actually get a room?" She laughed, standing up now. "I thought you were going to lock me up in the attic and make me shit on the floor and eat it after I got done."
Ikuto blinked, his smirk faltering for a split second. He hissed involuntarily, before dragging her into the room. "Thats very possible if you aren't grateful for this."
"I must decline, but thanks for the offer," She looked at the room and awed at the simple, yet divine beauty of the single room. Ikuto watched her expression, amused, before standing up to leave.
"I'll let you get used to your room," He said quietly, not showing his eyes as he walked out the door. "There are some proper clothese in your closet. Change into them." He slammed the door as he left.
Amu blinked as she looked at the poor, abused door. But even the door was elegant. She fell onto the velvet sheets on her bed, and took in the room more closely. A old and elegant oak drawer stood a few feet from the bed, inscense lit from it. It smelled of Marygold - so she guessed he liked the smell of flowers. Or... something else entirely? She shook that feeling off, and took in the rest of the room. A crystalline chandelier hung from the ceiling, sending sparkles of light from the candles reflecting on the glass dancing around the room.
She took a deep breath to regain her composure. She looked at the floor - crush velvet carpet again, with black roses on the design. She stood up, and went through a white door. A pure white bathroom was there, the toilet pure black with red cushion, and the towels were red with white trim. The shower seemed to be made out of expensive glass. Dear god, even the dirtiest room is enough to pay for my entire house back when I was... alive. She swallowed back bloody tears from the word. Her alive life seemed so far away - dim. She needed to cling to those memories, no matter what. Never forget them, and wish to see everyone again. Maybe it could happen, maybe not...
She left the bathroom, using her finger to trace patterns on the wall. The wall was wood. It was an old, old mansion, it seemed. But very elegant and expensive. It had been taken very good care of.
She looked down at her clothese, and gasped in embarssment. A blush tinged her cheeks pink, and she realized she'd been wearing her hospital gown all over the mansion. "How embarassing!" She yelled at the oak wardrobe, slinging it open for her mouth to gape wide open.
Hanging in the also elegant (A/N- HOW MANY TIMES AM I GOING TO SAY ELEGANT! I NEED A DICTIONARY!) wardrobe were old-fashioned dresses, black, red, a mixture of the two, white, purple, dark blue, orange and black, orange and white, red and white, and skirts of many styles. Plaid, mini, long, you name it, he had it. "How does he get all this money?" She asked a stupid question. "And he's not even a girl, so why does he need it?"
She picked a dress fitting to Ikuto's own tastes. A victorian corset, black with blue linen, showing off cleavage, and a long black skirt going down. She checked herself in the mirror and sighed. Wether I look good in it or not doesn't matter, she tried to convince herself, but she secretly wanted Ikuto's opinion. She didn't exactly understand why, but maybe its her natural instinct to try to please men, as her mother had once said it would be.
With a deep breath, she waited in her room for the Grim Reaper to Knock at Her Door.
And for now, she didn't know how true that pun was.
-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx- Authors Note -xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-