A/N:
Hello! I can't believe I'm finally posting my first ever Kuroshitsuji fic (not that I've been lacking ideas!)!
I've been wondering and searching for a while to see what kind of original plot I could come up with, and even though I love writing stories that deal with a Ciel in his time during his contract with Sebastian (such tantalizing possibilities... XD), I also really like the idea of a reincarnated Ciel that slowly re-becomes Ciel Phantomhive as he regains his memories.
The first half of the chapter is predominantly from Sebastian's point of view, and the second half from Ciel's (even though they're both in third person narrative). I'd like to think I'm writing something that hasn't been done before, except I know that some fairly talented individuals have already dealt with the whole reincarnation business, so hopefully I'll just lead you somewhere different (at some point! XD).
So, I won't keep you reading this silly author's note any longer, and I'll just hope you enjoy the first chapter of 'Orchestrated Puppets in the Wind'! ^^
"..." = dialogue/present talking
'...' = means internal monologue (or sometimes quotations)
"..." = talking in English (for Ciel, so yes Sebby speaks in Japanese)
"..." = Memory talking (you'll see what I mean ^.~)
Orchestrated Puppets in the Wind
By saphirablossom
Chapter One: Overture to a Déjà-Vu
Down below in the dismal streets of Tokyo, it was indeed a fascinating thing to behold all of the human garbage one could assess in the space of a single hour of the night. Here lay the drunks who already at the early hour of one in the morning had dutifully wasted themselves away into the depths of an abyss only they could comprehend. There walked the flirty girls, practically begging to the young men who passed by to lead them into one of the famed 'love hotels' that bordered the street, hanging onto them until one of them finally gave way to temptation.
'And a decidedly human temptation it is...' pondered the lone figure that stood leaning against a nearby window, his head propped up against his arms as he lazily overlooked the depravity and general corruption of the lowly beings that stumbled their way below.
He let out a bored sigh as he watched a group of male teenagers walk by laughing as they drew smoke from their cigarettes, waiting for the girls up ahead to acknowledge them. After all, they couldn't possibly be the ones to ignite the dangerous flame of so-called 'passion' that was their game. No, only the women could incite them to enter such a ritual, they were above that.
The figure could have laughed at his one analysis had he not had to keep his voice down; instead he barely concealed a cynical scoff of dark humor that he knew could only be understood by his own person. That is, if he could even be considered a person. He wasn't exactly human, now was he? He almost laughed at that small thought as well before he brought himself back into check. Really, he should stop observing humans during their lowliest moments; it only managed to bring him into cynical moments of great laughter on his part, with much depreciation on their part. Once again he scoffed into the crook of his arm, his dangerous smile barely concealed by said limb as he continued to overlook the busy nocturnal streets of modern day Shibuya, nestled in the bustling capital city of Japan, Tokyo.
Unfortunately, he should have known that his small ounce of enjoyment was to be short-lasted. The moment he began to settle back into his observational stance, he was somewhat surprised to instead receive a face full of what could only be a fluffy pillow, so damaged it was that a few of the cotton fluffs contained within it ended up in his mouth. Naturally, he quickly made to spit them out in his disgust.
"Positively nasty stuff..." he mumbled as he pulled the last bit of the offending material out of his mouth. Knowing he could only prepare himself for another onslaught at this point, he looked into the darkness behind him as he heard an angry shriek followed by an almost incoherent yell of,
"For the love of all things holy, what possessed you to wake me up in the most unholy hour of the night Sebastian?"
Despite himself, Sebastian couldn't help but smirk. Apparently, the lady was quite hell bent on swearing on the 'holy and spiritual', both things being that which he had no affiliation with in the least. However, he thought it wise to hold his tongue to a minimum, and instead retorted with a witty remark that wasn't half as offending.
"Technically Miss, it's already more like the early hours of the morning at this poi-". Apparently, that hadn't been the right thing to say, as Sebastian managed to end up with another mouthful of cotton. Oh joy.
"Don't start playing smart-ass with me! You know perfectly well what I'm talking about, so stop denying it! You're my manservant, got that? You do as I say, or are you renouncing our contract?"
Sebastian smirked as he once again removed the stale cotton from his mouth.
"Oh never mistress. I wouldn't dare disobey you... However, I have told you that demons such as myself like being explicitly told what they can or can't do..."
Sebastian's smirk only grew wider as he could practically feel the young woman opposite him writhing in her anger and frustration.
"Then in the name of our contract, I, Hanagizawa Arisu, hereby command you to leave me the hell alone!"
"Does that imply that I may leave if I so wish mistress?"
"I don't give a damn about where you go so long as you let me sleep!"
"Very well then, I'll take my leave..."
"Yeah, you do that..."
As Sebastian grabbed the spare house keys that lay near the door, he could've sworn he'd heard something resembling 'stupid manservant doesn't know his place'. Still smirking with a great amount of glee, he left the small apartment, careful to lock the door behind him as he left. Even he could only be so insolent without facing consequences.
The demon gave a contented sigh as he leisurely strolled down the stairs leading from his mistress's designer suite (or so she said) located on the fourth floor, all the way down to the building's main entry hall where not a soul was in sight. Something Sebastian didn't really consider to be surprising as no one actually had any business in such a place at an hour this 'unholy' as Miss Arisu had put it. As he set out into the street bustling with nocturnal life, Sebastian clucked in slight annoyance. However much this woman was his mistress, bound to him by a contract, that didn't mean he particularly enjoyed her presence. In fact he was much inclined to say that it was the contrary. He'd accepted to make a contract with her as her motives had clearly been out of insane greed and a superiority complex that rivaled that of many the demon had met in his stay in the human world. Such dirty emotions that characterized her very soul made it a perfect delight to consume once it had matured to levels unprecedented. The very fact that she lived her scheme in the depths of lies made the whole idea even more appetizing for the demon. To think she was making him pose as her darling husband from overseas, hailing all the way from England, while he was only a 'manservant' to her, the devastating tool that would bring her to her 'success'. Or as he put it, her downfall, as she didn't seem to understand that once she'd managed to gain what she'd always wanted, he'd be right there waiting to claim her sullied soul.
Arisu Hanagizawa; what a fool she was trying to gain, what was it? Financial control of the world's economy, all from her safe headquarters in the flourishing business her late father had granted her at his death? Sebastian chuckled at the pure idiocy. Humans were all the same, always pursuing the same self-centered goals that lead to nowhere but their own damnation. So superficial they were, their souls always tasting the same, with some a bit 'spicier' than the rest. And to think he'd been wandering this rotten world for over a century only to be granted this measly woman. Not exactly the prize he'd been looking forward to.
Sebastian sighed as he continued his walk through this lowly street of Shibuya lined with love hotels, skillfully avoiding the frivolous girls that he knew would fawn over him at the slightest of glances. It was a pain dealing with them every time he left his mistress's home, as he knew that he wasn't completely devoid of good looks; quite the contrary actually. He'd purposefully donned himself in this attractive physical look as he knew it would be aesthetically pleasing to humans (particularly the women, though he wasn't exactly picky). Never once in his stay in this world had he ever regretted giving off a pleasant-to-look-at aura, never. It had always helped him get away with more things than he could even remember. Then again... There was perhaps one time where he might have wanted to become exceedingly nasty looking, and that had more to do with the undeniably disturbing reaction from the person (make that thing) in question that he'd been confronted with at the time (and multiple times afterwards). Just thinking about him made Sebastian cringe in disgust, and even after all those years the sentiment hadn't diminished in the slightest.
As he turned into a nearby alley, hoping to wander off onto the Scramble Crossing a little ways down, Sebastian thought that with the combined fit his mistress had thrown coupled with his decidedly tiring thoughts, his night couldn't possibly get any worse.
"Sebas-cha~n!"
Apparently, it could, and once again apparently, the thing in question hadn't really changed over time either... In the split second that followed, a heavy weight landed on his back, threatening to pull him to the ground if he didn't maintain his balance. Leaning forwards with all his might, he grabbed a hold of the offending body that was draped over him and promptly threw it onto the concrete ground with a deafening thump. With an annoyed frown, Sebastian looked upon the being that lay before him,
"Speak of the devil..." he spoke softly.
With a small grumble, the figure rose from the ground, a childish pout adorning his face as he looked up at Sebastian,
"But Sebas-chan, how could you throw a pure young lady to the ground! It's so cruel, especially since we've known each other for so long!"
"Grell, I do believe we've gone through this countless times. You most certainly aren't a pure young lady. Quite the opposite in fact."
"Sebas-chan, how can you say that! And calling me a devil of all things! I should be the one calling you that... Wait, but that means... You were thinking of me?" Grell looked up at Sebastian with what he assumed were supposed to be doe eyes, filled with a hope that was about to be crushed in the second that followed.
"Maybe I was Grell. Maybe I wasn't. That doesn't change the fact that your presence is currently pushing my limits of patience."
"Really now Sebas-chan, that's so mean of you. We've known each other for so very long now, and still you speak to me so coldly!"
"Perhaps if you changed, there wouldn't be a problem." Sebastian continued to walk down the alley, Grell following close behind, running as best he could considering he was clad in what Sebastian thought to be ridiculously tight scarlet jeans. At least his white button-down shirt was somewhat acceptable. Sebastian himself rather found that these slightly loose plain denim jeans that he wore accompanied by (sadly) an equally white button-down shirt gave him a certain appeal. Too bad it was always the wrong people that responded (namely Grell).
"Change? Don't you think I've softened down a bit? A hundred years is a long time to get used to toning down a bit, don't you think?"
"No Grell, you're still as insufferable as the day I met you." He noted with a certain amount of satisfaction that the death god's face fell a bit at the comment. However, he was rather quick to retort (as he sadly always was),
"As if you knew what I really like back then! You never paid me the right amount of attention. How could you, when you were busy fawning over that brat? I don't even get what was so special about hi-". Grell was cut short in his ranting when he caught sight of Sebastian's expression.
If the demon had been annoyed before, he was practically seething now. And that was when Grell chose to remember that the boy was a rather touchy subject with Sebastian. Never did they speak of him, and never was he brought up in conversations, even if the demon had no qualms about bringing up anecdotes about his previous masters (albeit unwillingly in Grell's presence). Somehow, though Grell had no idea why, the previous master Sebastian had had remained special and still held some importance to him. The first real clue to that was all too simply his name. The name changed as he changed masters, and yet the demon had been hell bent on keeping the name the boy had given him so long ago. He'd even presented himself before his newest contractor with the name. The loyalty (or at least that's what it seemed to be) was simply baffling for Grell, considering Sebastian was a demon. Oh yes, of all the masters the demon had had before in his long life, it seemed as though the Phantomhive brat had undeniably left a mark; his mark to be precise.
Meanwhile, Sebastian stood staring at Grell with a pair of anger-filled eyes. His eyes, habitually already a deep red had turned a dark crimson under the influence of his bout of fury. A fury he himself couldn't even begin to explain without stumbling into a confusing and truly undesirable territory. He'd known things were different with his previous contractor, no, his Young Master the moment they'd began to engage themselves on the road to the fulfillment of said contract. The boy had been so different from the humans he was used to dealing with, and always remained very well aware of the price he was going to pay when his 'revenge' was complete. And in itself the act hadn't even been revenge. It was all a game to win back the proper amount of pride he'd lost that fateful night, and he certainly wasn't afraid to lose his life, his soul in the process. The pure motivation had drawn Sebastian in from the very start.
And then the time had come. The boy he'd contracted with at the tender age of ten was no longer truly a boy; he'd grown into a sturdy young man of twenty years of age, still as prepared for the loss of his soul as he'd been ten years prior. And he'd died without regret, except perhaps that of leaving his fiancée and his annoying albeit attaching servants to fend for themselves. That had been when the first of many occurrences had transpired for Sebastian that had led him to believe that the best possible outcome was to never ponder about the Earl of Phantomhive lest he fall into a vicious cycle of thoughts.
He hadn't been able to claim his soul as his own, and had let him slip through his fingers. It was the first and only time that Sebastian hadn't been able to feast upon a human, and he couldn't even find it in himself to regret such a thing. And that had been the first of many, many things that had led him to this unexplainable fury today. Whether he accepted it or not, Ciel Phantomhive had changed him to an extent, and the changes weren't about to fade just yet, even after over a century of wandering aimlessly.
"Um, Sebas-chan? Maybe... maybe we should, um... go to the Scramble Crossing and grab some food...?" Grell attempted to calm the demon before things got out of control. Grell still cringed at the thought of the last time they'd fought, a mere thirty or so years ago. His poor face hadn't ever been the same since!
The demon looked at the death god, his fury already diminishing a bit. He knew that once Grell got on his case, it would be quite literally impossible to get rid of him before he was satisfied. He took a deep breath, sighing as he curtly nodded,
"Fine. But only just this once." Grell's face almost instantly lit up as he made a grab for Sebastian's arm, a grab he missed rather spectacularly when Sebastian had swiftly retracted his arm from the offending hand.
"So tell me Sebas-chan, how are things going with that new annoying distraction of yours? You know, Arisu something-something...?"
The rest of Grell's words were drowned out as Sebastian still (albeit dangerous) pondered over his previous master and their time together.
It seemed Ciel Phantomhive wasn't about to relinquish his hold on him anytime soon.
It seemed Ciel Phantomhive wasn't about to relinquish his hold on him anytime soon.
Or so it was that he perceived the situation up until now. Not that such a thing surprised him any longer. It took quite a bit to take him by surprise nowadays in any case. If he'd had to give the whole phenomena an actual beginning, he'd say it was around the time his parents had had the brilliant (please note the sarcasm) idea of uprooting everything they had back in London to ship them over to Japan, his mother's home country, where apparently their combined businesses could easily flourish better than they already were in England. Even after a year, he still wasn't seeing any actual changes that truly justified the move. He'd been quite fine in England, thank you very much.
Then again, perhaps he wouldn't have come to understand all the things he had if they hadn't left his home country. That was really the only good part he saw in the whole thing, and even that could have been done in other ways, he was sure.
Already in London, he'd felt it when he passed in front of certain shops and streets, particularly in the older parts of town that dated back to the Victorian era. Strange pangs of familiarity, as if he'd just plunged head first into a déjà-vu even though he'd never set foot in the place, or snippets of images he wasn't quite sure belonged to his memory.
Then there were the names that came to him randomly. One of the more notable occurrences had been during a school outing in the shabbier parts of London, where the tour guide had presented them with a run-down building that could've been anything, ranging from a house to a doctor's cabinet. Said propositions had been given out by his classmates who were entirely stumped by the guide's inquiry as to the nature of the place. And he, the one who'd never set foot there and had never in his entire life heard of the long-forgotten place, had been the one to utter, as if possessed by a will independent of his own one simple word, "Undertaker...". They'd all looked at him, stunned that he'd even think something like that, when the guide had stuttered stupidly that it was indeed the correct answer, obviously unused to someone knowing the small bit of knowledge.
"That's so like you Mr. Cross! Always has a witty retort to everything!" his teacher had said with a smile, his classmates eagerly agreeing with him. If only they knew.
However, he'd have to say that the event that had truly triggered the most from him had been on yet another school outing, this time on the outskirts of London where they were to visit the manor home of a long-dead count or what-not that had previously been the owner of the renowned English toy company, Funtom. Honestly, as if he cared for such trivial things. And yet he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud, as if the thing was a matter of pride to him. An entirely silly thought he'd put into the back of his mind until the day of the trip when he'd learned the name of the semi-famous individual, who ironically happened to share his first name. The whole way their, his friends and classmates had teased him, calling him 'illustrious Viscount Ciel Phantomhive' and other such nonsense. It hadn't kept him from having another of his episodes at the name of 'viscount' an absurd annoyance bubbling within him as he'd snapped at the person nearest to him, "It's Earl Phantomhive, not something as lowly as Viscount."
Honestly, why did he care about whether the guy had been a viscount or an earl? It wasn't his business, and he was dead anyway. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that they were both named Ciel (a name, granted, wasn't exactly common)? No, even if it did, it didn't explain why he was so snappish on details. His friends, though initially surprised by his outburst, had eventually brushed it off as being a part of Ciel's absurd pride issues.
But that wasn't the only thing that disturbed him. The name Phantomhive, a name he admittedly had to have heard once or twice in his lifetime, rang a bell that echoed so deep within his memory, his very soul it even frightened him to some extent. It was as if he was trying to recall something he should know, something so obvious it was a sacrilege not to remember it. The more he approached the seemingly unfamiliar manor, the more the feeling accentuated itself to the point where Ciel almost felt sickened. But anything, everything he'd felt up until now was erased the second he took in the sight of Phantomhive manor. A sense of nostalgia so strong it could've burned his heart took him over at every object he saw. That was when he began to see small flashes of memory this time he was sure weren't his own; images of running up the stone stairway to the entrance, of sitting at a table that was no longer there sipping tea in elaborate china, of eccentric blonds decorating the entrance hall with frills and all girlish things of an awful taste.
The bedroom had held the greatest of onslaughts along with the office, where he'd seen so many images it was almost impossible to discern one from the other. Only one truly rang clear in the maelstrom of colors and sounds he was experiencing in the depths of his mind, a low, husky voice that rattled him to the very bone,
" I am only one hell of a butler after all, Young Master..."
After that had been the only time in his life he'd ever consciously asked a question to a tour guide, "Who was Earl Phantomhive's butler?" He'd been told that throughout his life, he'd been seen in the company of a butler all clad in black, and never once had he failed to be accompanied by the servant on his outings. And that was the only clue he'd ever gotten as to the whole thing.
It had taken Ciel an entire year more, along with his move to Japan, to finally figure out at the age of seventeen, and after many reoccurring dreams after said move, that he was in fact recalling his past life. His past life as the Earl Ciel Phantomhive, otherwise known as Queen Victoria's watchdog who'd passed away under mysterious circumstances at the age of twenty. And to think he'd been ridiculous enough to think he was being haunted! When Ciel recalled it, it had been an entirely silly idea from the start; who'd ever heard of a haunted person who'd never seen the ghost? And wouldn't his parents have sensed something as well? The mere idea of it made the young man scoff in disbelief at his incoherent thoughts.
However, even if he'd come to terms (as much as one can be expected to) with the fact that he was in fact witnessing the life of his past incarnation, he knew that his knowledge of the entire scene was drastically incomplete. Thus, Ciel naturally wanted to discover the truth behind all the scraps of event he'd been privy to in his sleep, to piece together the fragments of the life of his Phantomhive counterpart. But then there was that nagging fear that if he in fact did piece together the whole affair, he would effectively cease to be Ciel Cross and become once again Ciel Phantomhive. In other words, instead of it being he remembering memories of a past life, it would become the Phantomhive remembering memories of a future life that he once lived in ignorance. And yet somehow, the imminent danger of losing his identity as a person didn't stop him from desperately wanting to grasp the forbidden knowledge, like an Eve tempted by the fruit of eternal damnation. Ciel was quite certain that even the devil himself couldn't dissuade him from his unlikely quest.
... And yet somehow such a train of thought felt disturbingly familiar. The whole affair was decidedly heading towards unexplored territory, that Ciel was certain of.
His parents, both in the business of emerging financial networks in England, had then had the unbelievable idea of uprooting everything he'd ever known to move, to all places, Japan. His mother's home country where apparently, they hoped to gain an even better business chart than they currently had. Ciel's first real problem with the move was brought about the fact that he didn't want to move. He quite liked London and its quirks, its hidden places and mysterious paths that at every turn hid a secret to unlocking Phantomhive's past (he'd taken to referring to his past incarnation as such, finding that 'the other Ciel' was a bit awkward). Thus, it was only natural that he wanted to remain, knowing full well that Earl Phantomhive had never set foot in Japan of all places.
Another inconvenience Ciel was faced with was, strangely, regarding his last name. Despite his father being an Englishman, bearing the name of 'Cross' his mother (who's maiden name was Nakamura) insisted on being called something at least remotely Japanese. As such, 'Cross' had quickly become 'Kurosu' much to Ciel's dismay. Not only that, but he didn't exactly speak the native language every day of his life. Not that he wasn't confidant in his Japanese skills, they just needed more of a brushing off as they'd been 'laying in the dust' for quite some time. And it most likely didn't help in the least that his parents had chosen to move to Tokyo's hottest and trendiest district where he was sure all he'd meet were teens obsessed with the latest fashion: Shibuya, of all places. Ciel was most definitely in line for a hard adaptation time.
Ciel could only really find one positive thing in this whole deal, and that was the distinct feeling that if he went to Japan, he would end up discovering much more than he'd bargained for, gain far more than he'd have gotten had he remained in London, or even England.
It had, much like his little episodes of déjà-vu, begun with small pulls when his parents mentioned their imminent departure for the land of the rising sun. As if it were some sort of premonition, a promise of sorts that he wouldn't regret his move in the least. The feeling grew exponentially as the days passed by, mounting in his chest like some sort of dormant beast on the verge of awakening.
It wasn't until Ciel had set his first foot down onto Japanese soil that he became one hundred percent certain; if he was to gain any form of truth about Phantomhive's (and subsequently his) past, then he would undeniably find it here. Now the only thing he actually needed per se, was the element that would lead him to small fragments of his decomposed past life. And as much as the feat had seemed feasible back in London, where he could pretty much deduce from extensive research where to go and why, in Tokyo, he was as he ever could be without a single clue as to what he should do. But then again that made the final result, the ending prize so much more gratifying than it initially was. He'd obtain Phantomhive's memories, even if it took him endless years to do so. And considering the vast amount of power and secrets the nobleman had had, Ciel was rather certain that he could only gain from procuring himself such knowledge, however outdated it currently was. One more reason to acquire the proverbial forbidden fruit.
"Ciel! Would you please look this way dear?"
Ciel looked around at the sound of his name and the familiar accented tone of the English he was used to. He was granted with the sight of his mother, Rika Cross née Nakamura, pulling one of their immense suitcases with much effort, looking to her son in clear annoyance at his inactivity.
"Really now! Ciel, you should be helping your mother load the baggages onto the cart. And to think we're in Japan and you only answer when I call you in English."
Had Ciel not been so drastically annoyed by his mother's constant nagging about speaking Japanese the second they arrived in the country, he would have found her adamancy as regard to the luggage rather comical. Unfortunately, the young man could only bring himself to pout childishly. And as if he didn't have enough of a load with his mother constantly on his case, he had to have his father come into the scene, always prepared to defend his mother's opinion.
"She's right Ciel Kurosu, we're in Japan now. I thought we'd already talked this through? We speak Japanese from here on out, and it is not a topic up for discussion." His father reprimanded him in a slightly accented Japanese, adding the end to his phrase upon seeing Ciel's retort hot on his lips. Sighing, the half English, half Japanese young man replied half-heartedly in Japanese,
"Yes Dad."
"Good boy. Now help us with the luggage instead of staring out into space for god knows how long." Ciel couldn't help but smile faintly at his father's attempt at a joke. He never had been able to tell them in his native language, so how was speaking Japanese going to make things any better? Hopeful he wouldn't resort to those nasty puns people seemed to use as lame jokes around here.
That night, Ciel dreamt again of a past that wasn't his own, albeit strangely with far more clarity than ever before. As if watching things from an external point of view, he saw a younger version of himself, perhaps twelve or thirteen, sitting at a high desk in an elaborate chair, curiously wearing an eye-patch that somewhat distantly reminded Ciel of the pirate getup he'd adorned one Halloween. At such a young age Phantomhive, he had been already working with complex papers to manage an entire economical empire? He did know that Phantomhive had had to take management of the Funtom Company, but to this extent he'd had no idea.
If the scene had stopped there, Ciel would have been inclined to think that it was perfectly natural, despite the nobleman being a mere boy at the time. However, a soft knock on the finely polished wood door drew his attention to the other end of the room, where the said door swung open gently to reveal a person clad in black from head to toe, with eyes a crimson that was anything, anything at all but natural.
"Good afternoon Young Master. I have come to serve your afternoon tea."
Ciel realized that this was most certainly the famed butler he'd asked about during that outing, the one who's voice matched perfectly with the husky, dangerous one of his last memory of this being. Somehow, watching the man move with a gentle and swift grace made his blood run cold with an abnormal sense of dread, as if he were sensing imminent danger. But that was silly after all, even if crimson eyes weren't exactly what he'd call natural. He knew for certain that the butler wasn't wearing any contact lenses if he was to follow his history courses at school word for word. His counterpart looked up, he giving off the impression of an almost boredom as he gazed upon the surreal man just a few feet away as he spoke with Ciel's exact voice a few years back,
"Right, and what have you gotten out this time Sebastian?"
Sebastian... the name rang deep within him, as if he was truly supposed to remember that name above all else, as if the very name was the key to everything he was searching for in earnest. So many emotions coursed through him, ranging from danger, blood lust and slight fear, to safety, hope, and something akin to a deep longing, one he couldn't even begin to explain. And yet despite Ciel's troubled thinking, the scene between Phantomhive and this Sebastian carried out as if he weren't even there. Which he definitely wasn't.
"For this afternoon, I have prepared for the Young Master only the best. Today's tea is the finest Darjeeling imported directly from India. I hope it is to your taste."
After taking a sip, Phantomhive closed his eyes and nodded slightly.
"It's rather good. I'll have it. But bring me something sweet."
"Now Young Master, we've already discussed your eating habits. No sweets now or you won't finish your dinner."
Ciel could've laughed had his thoughts not been in such a turmoil. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who had a problem with sweets.
"Tch. Are you giving me orders Sebastian? Are you re-..."
And the rest of Phantomhive's words faded away as abruptly as one turns out a light, leaving Ciel to wander lost in the realm of dreams, still wondering what it was he'd seen.
Oh yes, it seemed like Ciel Phantomhive still had a few more tricks up his sleeve...
End Chapter One
A/N:
Phew! I don't think I've ever written something so long in the space of two days! Usually I need at least a month before I can get the courage to do anything, never mind think about it! XD It might have something to do with the fact that I'm on summer vacation and I just have that much free time on my hands... :D
I wasn't sure where this was going to lead me at all, so I pretty much let my inspiration drive me through the chapter.
We've gotten our first (really small!) glimpse of Sebastian's newest contractor Arisu (in other words 'Alice' which I think Ciel won't miss mentioning as hell bent as he is with his English!) who doesn't really seem all that nice. I didn't purposefully try and make her bitchy, but I think she kind of turned out that way against my will. Not that I was aiming to make her nice either, but oh well. I'd say if I had to compare her personality to anyone's, it'd be Doctor Kyle from 'Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle': manipulative and without scruples with a teensy bit of a psychotic and egomaniac streak. Just that. XD
I think I need to say it before anyone gets their hopes up, I unfortunately update stories at a rate that would even have you calling a snail a speed racer. Yeah, it's that slow... I think things might go quicker since I'm on vacation, but as long as I work on pure inspiration, I can't guarantee it. I promise that this time at least I'll try my best to be quick about it (damn right! XD)!
I hope that if you enjoyed the chapter (or even if you didn't, constructive criticism is always welcome!), you'll leave a review and tell me what you thought about. Any suggestions for character appearances and the whatnot is welcome too, and I think just about anything is good to mention! Hoping to see you again soon with a new update!