A/N: Whoops, I slipped; here, have something sad to read. Also, my editing wasn't as strict as it should've been, so excuse me if there are any mistakes I overlooked. Feel free to point them out though, so I can correct them.
PS: This is posted in AO3 too, under the same penname.
Summary: {"Rule number one: Do not fraternize with your targets."} This just means that the easiest way to kill a reaper is to give them their heart.
Rule Number One
[oneshot]
. . .
The figure clad in black with silver linings trudged down the busy hallway of the hospital in slow and calm steps. The man took his time walking, his pace patient and tranquil like water, but he wasn't here to dawdle like most people would think. His footsteps clacked against the marble floor like a rhythm or the beginning cadence of a gentle lullaby; not at all irritating and in fact would cause those who hear it to feel as if stardust had been sprinkled on them. He was easily bypassed by the doctors, nurses and patients, because none of them had cast a single glance in his direction.
This strange man was somehow invisible to them in sight and noiseless in sound.
However, there was always a particular exception – this time, it was a little girl in a bright red dress who blinked in his direction but had immediately deemed it as her imagination and went on her merry way with her mother into one of the many numbered rooms found on both sides of the hall. For a child, it was rather unusual that she did not exhibit any curious behavior about him.
This was always the case when it came to having a glimpse of him. No matter who brought their attention to lay their eyes on him, they would not hold their gazes long enough to see him properly, only able to discern a blur of black and glimmer of silver. In fact, their exiguous memory of him would fade away into nothing more than just a déjà vu moment, forgotten and lost to the wind while they carried on with their lives, not knowing what had transpired for the rest of their lifespan. But they wouldn't give it much thought, because thoughts of him are always erased and cleared without fail.
Yet, who wouldn't notice someone as suspicious-looking as him?
But no one could see a reaper of souls unless extremely close to the doors of death and seeing a reaper in a hospital was not a good sign at all. Well, not that anyone could see him in the first place.
His reason here, as you know it, was not to lollygag in such a depressing and dull building that reeked of quietus and a mess of human emotions. He is a reaper and he did not have time for such trivial things such as dilly-dallying like most humans do.
He is a reaper and he has come for business.
He has to reap a dying man's soul.
The footsteps receded as the reaper automatically stopped at the nearing end of the hallway in front of a door labelled as 'Room 702'. Reapers did not need to know where to go as long as their senses led them to their assigned targets. For them, knowing their surroundings in the existential plane was irrelevant and pointless, especially when they could come and go anywhere and anytime.
Everything that had mortal written all over them was worth nothing to reapers.
The reaper turned the doorknob slowly, clockwise, entering the Room 702 without a sound and closed the door lightly, so he would not startle his target.
It was unadvisable to do the following because scaring a target would create unnecessary trouble to himself and his fellow reapers. A soul had to be satisfied or happy to pass on and having both was a bonus. To pass on with negative emotions such as grief, sorrow and despair with a curse from their lips would make the souls lost and become ruined spirits, chained to the mundane world, unable to depart for the afterlife and find peace. What's worse was that ruined spirits were like a breeding ground for festering negativity, which would in turn ruin other humans that should not be affected by anything beyond the grave.
But he prided himself at being able to get the job done, even if he wasn't one of the best. Of course, anyone extremely close to death, or in his target's case, not more than an hour and 23 minutes and counting, are able to see a reaper, due to the fact the wall separating the existential plane and the dead from each other's visions blurs and blends for them.
His target is a man of twenty-two years with shining blond hair and golden eyes as bright as the sun. Despite the tired lines under his eyes and his skin paler than what's considered as healthy, he could be defined as handsome without a doubt. The man on the bed has been in the hospital for the past five years due to immediate hospitalization for an indefinite amount of time, yet he still has a bright smile not at all dampened by his current environment. It is a miracle that his target has stayed cheerful for so long, as the reaper can sense that what he is feeling at the moment is pure and genuine.
There are always exceptions in his line of work; that are those that fear the end and there are those who embrace it. Apparently, his target is the latter, choosing to stay optimistic for as long as he continues to exist instead of worrying and fretting about it. It looks like the reaper's job will be easier today when it comes to convincing his target to let it all go or maybe he doesn't have to at all.
When his target sees him, the blond man isn't scared by his appearance and instead, smiles wider, showing a set of white teeth.
Nevertheless, it surprises him when his target asks:
"Are you an angel?"
However you look at it, it is impossible to connect the reaper to an angel, especially with his outfit. No angel would dress in a dreary cloak with dispiriting colors. Weren't ethereal beings in white with feathery wings were how the norm perceived angels as? Apparently, the reaper was mistaken to think so when clearly, the man in front of him proved him wrong.
The reaper shakes his head. "No, I am a reaper. I've come to tell you that you'll die in about an hour and to take your soul, Kise Ryouta."
The target, Kise, tilts his head to the side. His eyes are bright, but this time with mischievousness. "What if I'm not ready to die yet? What if I have regrets?" He is obviously testing the reaper, wanting to know whether the reaper had enough sympathy to go with his whims.
A job is a job and it is evident that the reaper would not take up time to entertain the man and his questions. He wasn't obligated to answer and social niceties isn't what he is here for.
"You don't have any regrets. You're about to die and you're satisfied."
He delivers his statement monotonously, not at all comforting and considerate. The reaper is cold as ice and resolve stronger than steel, so he gets straight to the point. Beating around the bush wouldn't get anyone anywhere.
"You're okay about dying."
"Yeah, I am."
The silence stills the room for a moment and to the reaper, it feels like the silence of the dead, because dead men tells no tales. The tranquility is broken when Kise decides to talk, making a conversation with the reaper.
"I know I'm about to die, so can you do something for me?" he asks, somewhat hesitant to say yet he forges on. The reaper listens, weighing the pros and cons of going with what his target wants before he dies. "I want you to kiss me."
It was not uncommon for some targets to ask for a request from their reapers, but it was not rare either. The request itself would be easily done and kissing was just a touch with two lips, so the cloaked being decides to amuse his current target by bringing down his hood – his sky blue hair and electrifying ghost-like eyes bare for the world to see – and going closer, bending lower to meet Kise's eyes (so dazzling and striking) and bringing his own face nearer and nearer.
Their lips meet a second later and even though Kise asks for a kiss, it is not sensual or full of passion. There is no fierce battle between tongues or teeth, as it is just an act of two mouths brushing against each other and a smack of lips for a prolonged period. It cannot be compared to a lover's loving caress, lacking its main components like love and attachment. There is, however, a tiny spark, though that is because Kise's lips are dry and warm while Kuroko's is minty and cold, just like his demeanor.
They break way from each other soon enough and Kise can't help but laugh lightly in delight. The reaper, still unhooded, stands at Kise's bedside, face completely blank and waiting for Kise to compose himself.
"That was probably the most boring kiss I've ever had." There is that smile again that seems like a permanent fixture on Kise's face and Kuroko finally shows a bit of reaction when his mouth downturns, forming a frown.
"You didn't ask for an exciting kiss."
Kise laughs again.
"Would you do it with me if I asked?"
Kuroko's frown shows more disapproval than before.
"… No."
"Well, can you tell me your name?"
The blond asks the question seriously and the reaper, again, does not mind a second time to entertain requests that are not unreasonable. A name is nothing more than a tool that you use to differentiate yourself from others and revealing his name is not revealing a secret.
After all, this man will die soon and they will never meet again.
"My name is Kuroko Tetsuya."
That smile does not falter and somehow, it makes the guts in Kuroko twist uncomfortably. Was it because this was the first time someone had asked for his name? Or was it because of something else?
Regardless, Kuroko does not put much thought into it when Kise pulls him down gently for another kiss. This time, though, it's considered as what a kiss should be, with the necessary drive and effort incorporated into it. Kuroko does not stop the man who has not asked for his consent, because this was somehow a part of his duty a reaper to ensure that souls depart the way they should.
(Or did he wanted it? He wasn't sure.)
They break off for the second time and Kise puts his forehead against Kuroko's, one of his hands – so unlike the hands Kuroko have; freezing and numbing – stroking the reaper's hair in no particular pattern. Then the hand starts to trail down to the back of the ear to the nape of his neck until it travels lower, where it reaches the spine and pulls Kuroko nigh enough for an embrace.
Kise Ryouta was possibly the most willful target he has ever had the pleasure (or displeasure?) of having.
"Thank you." He mumbles, a breath away from the blue haired reaper's ear, oddly lonely-sounding.
He hates how his target is so carefree, free from all troubles and so content with himself. Seeing a human like that made him feel slightly envious. Even so, Kuroko can't help but overlook all that and feel fondness for Kise. He supposed it was hard not to.
Still, Kuroko's personal feelings and judgment cannot get in the way of his job. The judgment of a soul was not in his jurisdiction and he had no right to prolong someone's life. He has already violated rule number one for all reapers and he cannot afford to violate another.
To delay the inevitable was the same as humans' dilly-dallying. It was nonsensical, too human and not a part of his never-ending job. It was also a futile effort, because all humans die and this one would too, if not now but in the nearing future, whether it be days, weeks, months or even years from now.
Sooner or later it would happen.
No one had forever and forever was a lie.
The procedure is stagnant but it gets progressively steady until Kise's eyelids close, his hand falls from where it was grasping and he slumps against Kuroko's smaller frame. Kuroko slowly gets up, pushing Kise's body, which is now an empty vessel, off of him and onto the bed, taking a blanket to cover below chest and put the hands together to intertwine. It was only proper for Kuroko to arrange him neatly.
At least his target looked like he died not struggle against the approaching expiration and had slept it off peacefully instead.
Now, his job was done and it was time to leave.
Once again, the reaper Kuroko Tetsuya threw away a piece of his heart that had managed to find its way back into its hollow host. He continued to walk on and recited rule number one of reapers in his head over and over like a mantra.
He needed to remind himself of the one rule that he was not supposed to break ever again.
Do not fraternize with your targets. Do not fraternize with your targets. Do not fraternize with your targets.
It was the only thing that protected him from the pain and saved him from the madness of being a bringer of death.
The rule also brought him further away from death, even though reapers were supposed to be intimate with the concept and reality of it.
In the end, no one has forever, not even reapers.
Not only that, forever came with a great price.
Do not fraternize with your targets. Do not fraternize with your targets. Do not fraternize with your targets.
A physical forever meant losing your heart and to gain it back is the same as pointing a gun to your head.
After gaining forever, you can't turn back the process. The impossibility of trying to reverse it is the same as attempting to turn back time. You can't change what has been put into motion and to stop its momentum is like trying to disobey the laws of the universe.
You can't mourn, you can't scream and you can't escape.
Ultimately, this is what you wished for and you must face the consequences.
Do not fraternize with your targets. Do not fraternize with your targets. Do not fraternize with your targets.
His lips burn and he can still feel the ghosting warmth of an already dead man. That man's smile is also immortalized, burned into his memory for the rest of his existence.
Sometimes, Kuroko wondered why he wanted a forever in the first place.
Do not fraternize with your targets. Do not fraternize with your targets. Do not fraternize with your targets.
He repeated it all over again and again in his mind.
If he broke rule number one again, he would break himself.