Preliminary Note: Chapters for literally everything else are coming, along with the conclusion of A Value Between 0 and 2. I've been tired lately, so I took a break for most of this week. Then this idea popped in my head, and…

Spoilery content warnings: attempted suicide.

Contains OCs (just human characters) and essentially platonic Soriel.


He always folded his hands on the desk when he talked. Yeah, I know that seems like a weird thing to think about, but I never really saw much of him—both literally and figuratively. His office was dark like the rest of this place; his hands were the only parts of him I could ever see. Like most of us, he probably dressed in all black. But even then, I should be able to see some other part of him, right? A fold of cloth here, or even a bit of his face?
No. To me, all he was was represented in his hands.

The day he called me in was like any other day. I use your terms; we don't have days here. Time is only significant to a human observer. Time plays no role here. I digress; there was nothing terribly out of the ordinary. I briefly wondered if I had been caught (I'll get to that later), but dismissed the thought. He couldn't know; we had been very careful.

I sat down across from him, making sure to sit upright and straighten my back.

"Sans. I have a job for you. Another human."

"Huh. Is it their time yet?"

"…Not quite." It was hard to tell, but it seemed that the hands momentarily tightened their grip on each other; if they did at all, they relaxed just as quickly. "A girl, age twelve. I need you to watch her for a while, and take her soul when the time is right."

"…Hm." Well, that was an odd way of putting it. Usually, he would say something along the lines of, 'It's nearly time for this person to die. See it through.'

"Any particular reason?"

He shifted, a pale hand lifting into the air.

"Isn't it your job to find out? You're skilled enough. I trust your judgment."

I nodded, and rose.

"I'll prepare to travel to the human world tomorrow."


I walked down the gray path, my feet brushing against stone. At the end of it path is the door. It stands between here, Purgatory, and there, Heaven. Each one serves its own purpose; as contradictory places, they cannot be allowed to meet. Yet a door—a way to pass between the two—exists. I've often wondered why. Humans themselves are contradictory; they're brought to life by Heaven's angels, and eventually brought to death by Purgatory's reapers. So then, I thought, maybe it only exists in case life and death ever have to exist at the same time.

They set a guard over the door. At all times, someone has to watch it to make sure no one can pass through. A reaper in Heaven would be a disaster. We kill everything we touch; and in a place of life...

Yes, such a place would be destroyed.

But on that side? They don't guard it. They don't even want to come here.

The door stood far higher than the top of my head, adorned with a crest of an angelic creature over three triangles. Someone told me once it's supposed to represent the life the angels give the humans. But why use triangles to represent the humans? Were angels really just round balls of light with wings? It never made sense to me.

I knocked.

"…Ms. Toriel? Are you there?"

I heard shuffling from the other side, and then a woman's soft voice.

"Sans? Oh, it's so good to see you! How are you doing today, dear?"

"Well enough…" I paused. "I won't be coming by here for a while. I've been assigned to a human again. So…this might be my last shift."

"Is that so? What a shame. You'll be finished in a few of their days, right?"

"Maybe, but I'm not sure. He told me something different this time; said I have to watch her."

"Ah…" I heard the sound of dripping water.

"Watering your plants again?"

"Yes…the flowers need constant attention, even in a place like this. Heaven is covered with golden flowers like these."

I leaned back against the door, setting down my scythe. "Mm. Sounds like a terrible place."

"Only you would say that. I'm sure if you could see it, you would change your mind."

"If it's anything like the human world's flower gardens, I think I'll pass."

"I can't believe you, Sans…what's it like over there, anyway? What could have possibly made you so gloomy?"

"I'm not…ugh." I grimaced. To an angel, maybe it would seem gloomy. But her world of light and sunshine and flowers…it made me sick.

"Over here, it's always dark; nothing emits light, but everything exists in black or gray or white. ...Maybe it's not a pretty place, but it doesn't have to be."

"Hm. To me, that sounds terribly sad…but do you like it?"

"I guess. I mean, it serves its purpose."

"Is that all you think of it?"

"Yeah, I guess."

We sat there in silence for a minute. I listened to the sound of her footsteps, and closed my eyes.

"So…could you tell me one of your stories?"

"Oh? You want to hear about the human births again?"

"Sure."

"I don't know…if even the thought of flowers sickens you, can you really handle babies? The little giggles they make, and how their parents' eyes light up at every little noise, and—"

I cut her off.

"Right, right, I get it. …I don't like the stories so much, but I like hearing them from you." It passed the time, anyway…and it made her happy.

"Hm… Well, then. Today, a girl named Lucy was born. Her parents didn't know what to call her at first, but then…"

At some point, I stopped listening to the words she said, but instead to the voice that said them. It was a high-pitched, feminine voice; almost motherly. If she were human, and if we aged, she'd probably be in her late forties. Beyond that, I didn't know. Was she really a ball of light with wings? The image didn't fit in my head.

I continued listening to her, drifting in and out of a light doze until the bell rang. She heard it faintly through the door.

"Oh, is it time for you to go already?"

"Yeah. See you…in a while."

I brushed the dust from my cloak and set off.


I stood in front of the mirror, looking through to the human world. It's a world of both life and death down there; I like it as much as I hate it.

My associate stood next to me. She was ranked higher than me, and completed more missions than most of us could ever hope to with cold ambivalence and a sense of duty. Because of her competence, she was one of the few of us allowed to touch the mirror.

They called her 'Undyne the Blood Reaper.'

"All righty, Sans, you ready?" She flashed a jagged, uneven grin, and drew a line across the mirror with her scaly finger. "Here we go!"

A watery reflection of someone's bedroom appeared. A girl with long, black hair sat at a desk, a book open in front of her; I looked down on her from above.

I took a breath, and stepped through.


Notes/Manizu Chatter:

Huuu I love writing melancholy, it makes me strangely happy.

Reaper Sans always seems like a more serious character to me, so…he gets a more eloquent vocabulary here, along with less stylized dialogue.

I'm not sure if I'll be able to include it in the story, but the door to Purgatory is marked with a Gasterblaster.