...and in my eyes your smile
written September 22-24, 2010
minor edits October 2nd
Because I cannot bear to leave the ending of Kuroshitsuji II the way it is.
"I can't stand this anymore," said the red-eyed boy.
They were sitting in the black-and-white rose garden above the sea, as they had been for so long that neither remembered when they had arrived. The younger demon looked up helplessly at the older one. He was still beautiful, and still thirteen, though it was a century since he had been twelve.
"Indeed," said the older demon wearily, "and what do you propose to do about it?"
"Let's find my soul. Please, Sebastian, let's find it." The boy caught his hand; he pulled it away. "Please. We have to."
"We have no idea where it is. We have no idea if it even still exists." The tall demon gazed out to sea. "And even if we found it, would I be able to claim it? How can we know?"
"Alois' wish was granted! And he's been dead a hundred years. What power can he have over us now? Surely, what Ciel's soul wants must count for something?"
As always, Sebastian's ruby eyes darkened at the mention of his young master's name, and the boy sighed bitterly.
"I can't bear this. I miss food. I miss feeling the way I used to feel, the way things were."
"That was Ciel Phantomhive's life, Master," said Sebastian. "Not yours."
"I know! do you think I don't know? but I have his memories, all the same. I have his body, and it remembers everything." The red eyes had turned blue; the boy's voice ached with sorrow. "I miss it so terribly, and I can't have those things, ever." He looked up again, pleading, and the older demon closed his eyes and turned away.
"You didn't always hate me so," said the young one softly.
"When you were Ciel, you were my greatest joy." The dark voice was quiet, longing. "Brushing your hair, carrying you in my arms…I faced every kind of pain and danger, just for the pleasure of bringing you safely home."
But you hate me now. For looking like him, sounding like him, for gazing out of his face with these eyes. "Home…" blue eyes gazed into the dusk, and the demon child laughed softly.. "We had adventures together, like children. We fought for the honor of the queen, and were home in time for tea. How innocent it sounds." The second laugh caught in his throat; the blue eyes filled with tears. "Please, I can't bear it. We have to try, Sebastian. Another year with these beautiful memories, and I swear I'll tear my own throat out."
A long silence, so long that the dusk became starlight.
"The Isle of the Dead?"
"If it's anywhere it's there." The young demon got to his feet. "Let's go."
Utterly exhausted, the words like decades of pain. "Yes…my lord."
The island was still there, brooding under its ever-dark skies, half of it in rubble from the battle that had severed them. They stood on the shore, the ferryboat gliding away as silently as it had come.
"Now?"
"Now we search."
And because he wanted to be found, they found him.
"Sebastian!"
The soul's cry rang against the black cliffs, and they saw the rift of light in the sky, just above; they raced to the highest ridge, the shattered cypress forest spreading below, and through the rift they saw it, the empty, starry space, the floating shard of tiled floor, and seated there, awake, a century of waiting in his wide eyes-
All the storms of hell could not have kept them out.
"You're here. You're here." The soul buried its head against Sebastian's shoulder. "I knew Alois' wish couldn't hold forever. Ah, it's been so long." The demon stroked his ash-grey hair. "I'm so tired. Take it, Sebastian. Please, do it now."
"No!" The young demon pressed forward, urgent to be heard. "Ciel, listen to me-"
"How dare you?" The soul's head lifted, its blue glare as fierce as it had been in life. "Don't touch me!"
"I'm you." The child demon gazed back with his own face, his body's face, identical but for slit sunset eyes. "I miss you. Please-"
"You're a demon wearing my body." Ciel drew back. "I have no contract with you."
"But Sebastian can't, Alois forbade him. Listen, I'll eat your soul, and your body and soul will be back together, we'll have peace; then Sebastian can take your soul from me, and I'll die and all will be well. You see?"
"No." Ciel was adamant as ever. "If Alois' will has broken, if Sebastian can take my soul from anyone, he'll take it from me." He curled against the tall demon's knee like a cat. "That's what we've waited for and that's what we'll do."
"But-"
"No."
"Why would you even think I'd let you take him, now that we're finally here?" Sebastian did not look at the child as he spoke. "Live or die, you're nothing to either of us."
"But-what will I do?"
And Sebastian did look at him, a tiger's stare, Ciel's soul safe in the curve of his arm. "You've lived a shadow of this boy's life for a hundred years, a master since you were born. Go and find your own way. Sign a contract; learn how it feels to have immortal power yet live as a slave; it's high time you did. But whatever you do, do it far from me. I don't wish to see you again, creature, not ever."
And it could only watch as they faced each other. It was ronin, haunted and masterless, and the only beings it knew had no use for it whatever.
The soul lay back against its butler's shoulder, its eyes closed in peace. The butler drew his white glove off with his teeth, stroked the boy's jaw with the back of his hand.
"Young master, do you still want this to hurt?"
"...no. No, I just want it to end."
A smile, very tender, with eyes closed. "Yes, my lord."
He leaned close, closer, and finally - finally - sealed the soul's lips with his.
Ciel's head pressed back into his shoulder, his fingers clenched in the butler's black sleeve, and a pale glow filled his clear eyes, spilling like bright vapor from his nose and mouth. The glow spread, surrounding his head and chest, reaching out to encompass Sebastian, and it grew brighter as he gathered the soul into his arms.
The demon child watched helplessly, tears filling its eyes. The glow was a clear, warm blue, the color of a midsummer sky; it made one think of white clouds and lazy afternoons in gardens of perfect roses. Gardens, it thought; we had tea, and wonderful sweets, and no matter what happened Sebastian always smiled at me…
They were as close as lovers now, and Ciel's soul grew more and more transparent, visible only as a glass-clear outline in the blue radiance. Sebastian's face was beautiful in its bliss; the glow brightened, then flared, and was gone. Ciel was gone. The contract pentacle on the back of Sebastian's right hand blazed blue for an instant, and faded away, leaving no trace.
Eyes slitted open for just a moment, regarding the bare, pale skin. "The contract…" hardly even a sigh, "is complete."
And his eyes closed again, with an expression of dreamy contentment. Peace; the demon child thought; pure happiness and peace.
It wanted to die.
"What are you going to do now?" it asked, when Sebastian had not moved for an hour.
The demon stretched languorously, relaxed as a cat. "I won't need anything for a long time, now," he said, "and I'm in no hurry to return. I think I'll go back to the island and sleep for awhile. A year, perhaps, or two."
"And," it hated itself for asking, "what should I do?"
"Whatever you like. Just do not be here when I wake."
"If you mean to abandon me," begged the demon child, "kill me. Please."
"If I could, I'd have done it long ago." He was too happy even to sound scornful; his voice held nothing but lazy amusement. "But you know, as well as I do, that only a magickal weapon can kill demons, and those are rare." He glanced around. "We can't stay here; this space will vanish soon. Its work is done."
There was no choice; he returned to the Isle of the Dead with Sebastian.
The tall demon curled up on a stone bench, as cozy as on the finest featherbed, and pressed his hand to his heart with a look of wonder. "'Finally, you're here with me," he said softly. "After all this time…"
And he was asleep, with his soul.
The young demon looked slowly around itself. The island had once been beautiful, he thought; it had the look of a ruined classical garden. Gardens…Ciel had had gardens, with roses, and fountains and statues, places to spend a day in peace…
No. This is the Isle of the Dead, a haven for demons. It's no place for roses.
Still, perhaps something could be done.
He stood up, pushed back his silver-grey hair, and walked toward the shore. He should begin by seeing the whole of the island, he thought; it wouldn't take long to walk all the way around it, and even if it did, he had nothing else to do.
Water; a silvery splashing of water. Not the steady lapping of waves, but the musical ring of water falling into a pool, steadily sustained. The fountains, he thought; I hope Finn managed to clean them without flooding the lawn.
But no, he wasn't at Phantomhive, not anymore…
The sound continued, and with it came the sweet, sharp scent of evergreen trees. Where was he?
Sebastian - he would keep the name for a while longer, he thought - opened his eyes. And then opened them wide.
The garden had been restored, remade around him while he slept. The plaza was paved in polished tiles of black stone, the bench he slept on matched with three more, spaced evenly around the perimeter. Behind them stood groves of young cedars and cypresses. The fountain faced on the sea, a graceful basin that stood higher than his head, edged in carved black roses, all formed from the same dark stone the isle was made of. He could feel the steam heat, smell the salt and sulphur of hot seawater; the fountain must be driven by a volcanic vent in the sea bed, he thought. A fountain from hell, how appropriate…
Could that boy possibly have done all this? By himself, with no tools? Despite himself, he felt a twinge of pity for the wretched thing: was he that terrified to take up a demon's life alone?
He sat up, peeling away several vines that had grown up the bench and twined around his ankles, and walked to the other side of the fountain to take in the full view. He was admiring the winged figures that supported the basin on either side when he glimpsed a flash of silvery hair, and the boy came running toward him.
"You're awake!"
There was little left of the Victorian finery he'd been dressed in, barely more than trousers and boots; a lace-edged sleeve had been made into a headband; he looked like the sole survivor of a shipwreck. And he was scarred, terribly, Sebastian saw with surprise: deep, gouging scars on chest, arms, wrists. Was learning the task of stonecuttery so dangerous?
"Yes. And I congratulate you. This is most impressive."
"It gave me something to do. But I've learned something more important." He held out a stone knife, chipped of flint in the ancient style. "The stone of this island has special properties. Knives of it can wound demons, probably even kill us."
Ah - scars. I see.
"You've been trying."
"It hasn't worked. I don't think we're allowed to kill ourselves. But-" He held out the blade. "Please."
Sebastian looked slowly around. "It seems a shame. You clearly have talent; might you not like to stay here? This island could use a caretaker."
"I meant what I said. Ciel's memories are breaking my heart." The eyes so blue, the knife held out steadily.
And Ciel's voice in his heart said, "I'll do it."
"-You will?"
"I'll kill him. Let me use your body; I can say the words you can't. And he's so pitiful, I can't bear to look at him. Let me do it."
"As you wish, my soul."
So, the final act: on the stones he polished by hand, a child lies awaiting his end. Kneeling over him, the demon he was created to torment breathes deeply, quiets his mind, letting a human soul speak with his voice.
He catches his breath at its beauty as it manifests; Ciel's spirit has lost none of its pure incandescence, is still all truth, all clear fire, burning in his heart. My treasure, mine to keep. They raise the stone knife, its blade chipped flint but its hilt incised with roses.
"Thank you," whispers the demon child, and it closes its eyes.
Ciel closes his own - his demon's - eyes as well, unable to watch himself die.
"In the name of heaven and Her Majesty," his voice rings out, "bear this creature to peace everlasting." And they strike.
He thinks it will take all their strength, but the instant the blade cuts skin the demon is gone, and the ancient body - his own mortal body, its time stretched past bearing - instantly crumbles to dust. The blade strikes flagstone surrounded only by rags and ash.
I'm really dead now, Ciel Phantomhive thinks; finally, I'm truly dead. He feels cold, and draws back into Sebastian, who curls around him protectively.
"It's all right, my soul. It's over at last."
"Yes. At last." He floats in the sheltering darkness of his demon's heart. They are walking.
"…Are we going somewhere?"
"Eventually, I'll need to return whence I came...but not soon." Sebastian presses a hand to his chest; Ciel feels the warmth. "When I have a new master I'll no longer hear your voice this clearly, and I'm not ready to lose that."
"I see. So-?"
They stand on the coast of the black island, and the ferryboat glides soundlessly toward them. "I think perhaps we'll take the long way back. If that suits you."
"It's the only way I know."