August 26th, 1889. A man, tall, lean, handsome walks through the town of London carrying something in his gloved hands. He wears an ironed butler's suit, black tie, buttoned up starched white shirt, polished shoes, silver cufflinks, and a coat tail that lifts when the wind tells it to. All of him is perfect right down to his silky raven hair. Too perfect. His eyes are amber but have been called red before and truly they are, red as rubies with a glaze that could be read as somber, like he lost everything he owned.

Perhaps he did, the heavy feeling he carried with him suggested such. He wore no smile just a stiff line etched onto his face, a business only face, a face that said I've come for only one thing and that is all. He wasn't heard when he entered each destination but he was seen even if for a second and when he left there was a box. Simple yet elegant, black in color. What lay inside? For a shop owner whose gray hair covered his eyes and trailed down his back looking like tangled moss- the box was an unusual thing, certainly worth his interest. His shop dealt with the deceased, a morbid business for sure but somebody must do it and he adored doing it.

He understood the dead so well that many people came solely to him. He was busy, busy, busy but he could take the time to open this little box for sure. Out of his coffin bed and into the fray of his shambled work place that needed a good dusting and a dash of color. His black coated form swayed side to side toward the box, overcome with glee, his eerie laughter echoed up the walls and across the room where other coffins could be found. It bounced around like a ball giving the already spooky place a creepier air.

"Now, well this is certainly a surprise. What could be in this little box?" His slightly cockney accented, scratchy, odd voice questioned aloud to no one.

Indeed, his voice was as unusual as he was and just as off putting. It was twanged with several accents, including his native one, and it just simply sounded off. He opened the little box, carefully removing the gray ribbon that bound it, to reveal a lollipop with a cat seal on it, a seal he recognized.

"Ahh~ This is from the earl and his butler then. Hihihi, how pleasant. Oh, and what's this, a note? Let's read, shall we?"

He gingerly picked up the white note card with his talon like fingernails, painted black, and eyed it. How he could see beyond those fringes of hair was beyond anyone's comprehension but somehow, he read it and when he did he frowned, a first in his life since a smile was usually plastered upon his pale visage. His bony fingers curled underneath his chin, considering the words that were cursively written on the white note card.

In memory of

Ciel Phantomhive

Who died at August 26th, 1889

Aged 14 years

"My, my, what an awful turn of events. The young earl has died? Ah, I suppose it was expected, hanging out with that demon."

He waltzed toward his pantry to retrieve an urn but inside it wasn't the dust of a cremated person but biscuits shaped like dog bones. Assuredly they were equally dry and flavorless. He promptly bit one in half, chewing on the end as he contemplated the contents of the letter again.

"Such a wasted youth. How many times did I tell him to watch his soul? One who endeavors in the sin of wrath will attract a demon and then what? Well most certainly he will meet an untimely demise and how unfortunate he was so careless as to not find his place in my humble domain."

Another dog biscuit took the place of the other; it was like he was smoking and kept lighting up another cigarette. He hummed a merry tune for a bit before speaking again, watching his emerald ring glint in the sunlight that dared to creep its way into his gloomy office.

"What a sobering thought. It's such a pity, I so wanted to cut open his tiny body and then perhaps take a peak under that eye patch, see what secrets he held. Hihihi. But alas, all is for not. Oh well, all is done now. The demon has eaten his soul for sure, I'm sure it was quite tasty as it was the earl's complex soul. Still, how I wish he would have been less careless."

He flipped the close sign to open, smiling once more as he welcomed the new day. He fixed a black hat upon his silver hair making sure it fit snuggly before he busied himself about his shop. No use worrying about something so trivial, he thought, his work was far more important. At least the letter gave him something to think about and intrigued him.

"Precious little dolt, lost his soul over a bit of anger. No use being angry, none at all. Happiness is the key to life, Hihi, and what a world it would be without happiness or laughter. One I could not survive in, not I, not my humble self, oh no. I do wonder though…now with the earl disposed of what will her majesty do now? Perhaps she will go mad and simply die, oh now that would be something. Hihihihihihi!"

He belted out his spine-chilling laugh, coughing and hacking up a storm as if it was some sort of humorous joke. As his laugh found its way outside it welcomed the people who, by now, were accustomed to it. To him, the box had brought surprising joy and soon another box was left at another destination. Not much was thought of the box to the duo who found it but curiosity peaked in the female who stared at it intently. Through the thick smoke she walked toward it, bending over to retrieve it and give it to her lover.

"Come. Meimei, let us see what the butler left us," The male spoke, his eyes closed and a pipe in hand. One would know upon looking at him he was Asian in decent, as was she.

"Gift," She stated simply, tilting her head to the side causing her braids to spill over her large breast.

"Yes, so it seems. What a drab color though. Perhaps its insides are worth more to look at? Open it for me, will you my kitten?"

She opened the small box, her golden eyes intently sizing up the tiny box. She produced from it a lollypop first, curiously looking at it as if she's never seen one before.

"A sweet? How like the Earl to send us sweets. Is there more in there?"

She looked back at him, her firm serious face displayed no emotion as she found herself sitting in the Asian man's lap. She pressed the note to his face, begging him to read it. He smiled gently, rubbed the top of her head which sported two buns that made her look feline, and took the note from her fingers.

"Oh? So, the earl has passed? Not sure how to feel about that. How do you feel, Ranmao?"

"Sad," She whispered, with a little frown.

"You have grown quite fond of the earl, haven't you my pet? Ah well, he's long gone now which means business will be bad and we won't have his protection."

Ranmao grinded herself slowly against him, her pointer finger rubbing against the piece of paper he held. He blew out a smoke ring around her before letting out a breathy chuckle. Like the one before him it wasn't obvious how he saw but he knew exactly everything she did.

"Do you wish to retire to my room, Xiao Mao?"

She nodded softly, placing an open palm on his chest. He stroked her back lovingly before puffing one more time on his hookah that was filled with opium. He was numb to everything, so to him nothing was ever felt. Except with her. He only felt with her. He was addicted to the taste of the opium, smell, and absence of sound or feeling but she was, in some way, also like his opium. They went to his room and it was safe to say that they kept everyone up with their love making. Such a tired word to use, was his thought. Love making.

He already loved her, so what was he making exactly? More like child making. It was like painting a beautiful scene to him and for someone so quiet she was certainly vocal in bed. She was his drug, losing her would mean losing a piece of himself. He considered her a sister as she was part of his clan, but it was obvious she meant more than that. He opened his eyes to view her through a haze of blinding colors. She looked like a butterfly, spreading a lot more than just her wings at that moment. Through their intercourse another box was placed in the hands of a Prince from India. No words were said between the butler and prince but as soon as the butler left the Prince regretted not asking more questions.

"What do you think could be in here?" He questioned to his servant.

The turban wearing, caramel skinned servant looked up at what he called his god. Their intimate relationship of servant and master went past those boundaries; they were devoted to one another. The aged servant had his life saved by the violet haired prince, who set his golden eyes upon him seeing some good behind his treacherous soul. He had given him a second chance and Arshad the vandal became Agni the servant and bowed to the might of the teenage prince for he could have easily executed him but didn't. The Prince was a naïve, innocent, and kind-hearted young man who was willing to work hard and could see the good in everyone, Agni could appreciate that.

"I haven't the slightest idea, my prince. Shall we open it?"

"I do not know, Agni. The gods are telling me not to but my curiosity is telling me to do so. By the might of Kali, I cannot decide!"

"Do you think there is something we should not see inside the box?"

"That is what I feel but…. Sebastian would not give us something that would harm us, yes?"

"No, my Prince, he is a good man, that much I know. Mysterious but very good. Someone with that much power to rival my own could use it in a second; I do not think he could harm us with a small box."

"You are right. Let us see then."

His tan-caramel fingers opened the box and his golden orbs peered inside, the box was then dropped to the floor being treated as if it was a venomous object meant to kill. The heavy amount of jewelry the Prince wore jingled as he stepped back, tears rapidly coming out of his eyes.

"What is wrong?!"

"Ciel…. Gah, no…please, Brahma, no…. tell me it's a lie!"

Agni frantically picked up the letter to see what caused his prince so much pain and found himself in pain as well. His heart twisted inside his chest upon reading each word, each letter, hearing the lines being repeated in his head. He could also hear the passionate sobbing of his prince who was experiencing loss for the umpteenth time in his life. First his parents, then Meena, now this. He had someone he could trust who taught him how to grow up and conquer his fears and now even he had gone and at such a young age too.

There was no cause of death, no invitation to a funeral, nothing. Just an empty heartless box with empty words and a piece of candy, as if that was enough. As if a sugary treat could calm the torrents of tears that flowed violently out of the Prince's eyes. Nothing could assuage such agony and at that moment Agni felt helpless. He tried to console the Prince but he ran to his quarters to find solitude in his loneliness. Agni knew how it felt to be alone; he felt alone his whole life until Soma, his Prince, his god, found him. Agni allowed the Prince to suffer alone as Agni went over the words again.

How could someone so young die so suddenly? Did the pain of losing his parents drive him to suicide or had he died broken hearted? Did he get murdered in his line of work? Did he have an accident? Why wasn't there a funeral? Perhaps it was too painful for everyone involved to have a funeral for such a small boy. After an hour of rest Soma came out of his room, rubbing his puffy red eyes and sniffling. He flopped onto Agni helplessly, clinging to him as if he needed him, as if he had nothing left, as if his bones could no longer support him. Agni captured his royal master in his strong arms to which one had the hand that held god-like powers, powers that stemmed from the one he held tightly.

"Agni…you are all I have now. I feel so empty inside, like a piece of me is missing. I cannot go on."

"You must try; remember what he said to you. He would not want to see you in such a state. We must keep his memory alive."

"How can we do that, there isn't even a funeral…how cruel to not have a funeral for him! He was important to everyone!"

"I understand, but it would be too sad for everyone to go to a grave of a little boy. Let us then make a shrine to commemorate him. What do you think of that?"

"Yes! It shall be the biggest, grandest, most intricate shrine ever! We should build it right now! Do you think the butler will help?"

"I think he might be grieving right now, he might even have quit his job already. Who will he serve now? We will make it together, but after you eat some food."

"I don't think I can eat…"

"You said you were empty, so let's fill you up."

Soma smiled weakly, appreciating his servant's genuine adoration and consideration. Agni bowed lightly before going into the kitchen but was stopped by Soma's hand grasping desperately at his arm.

"Yes, what is it? Is there something you want me to make?"

"No, make whatever you want…but…thank you. Thank you for trying."

Agni beamed sweetly but was taken off guard by Soma hugging him tightly, burying his face in his chest. He could feel the Prince's dry heaving sobs and his delicate fingers clawing on his back, wanting to hold him so close that their bodies melted together. He didn't want to lose Agni, his servant, his best friend, and someone he too saw as a god. He petted Soma's head softly, not knowing that at that moment another box of bad news was being delivered to one last destination. It had reached so many others such as three bumbling servants that worked for the now deceased master. They now found themselves in a state of shock and now jobless. Still they took their pain and gathered themselves up, with help from their leader Bardroy the head Chef. Together they lived in the Manor that belonged to the Phantomhive family and kept it up in remembrance of him. The other butler they had, graying and past his prime, had quit his job and lived in the country, stating that he had no purpose living in that manor with the painful memories it soaked within its walls.

For the one who was betrothed to the Phantomhive boy, his cousin, Elizabeth, a girl with blonde ringlets and jade eyes, the news devastated her to the core and her family crashed down around her. First her mother had lost her brother, Vincent Phantomhive and Her sister-in-law Rachel, shortly following that she lost Angelina Duress her other sister-in-law, and now her nephew. Mrs. Midford was a stern, tough woman; she came from a family of knights, she could sword fight and hold her own but when she heard the news she became like London bridge and fell, down, down into a pit of depression. No better could be said of Elizabeth, just a young girl, who turned into a zombie of sorts having her only purpose for life taken away. Her cute nature faded even when her maid Paula tried her very best to be cheerfully optimistic. Nothing could save this family but Paula never quit, feeling as if she could fix this broken puzzle.

The last box came to be upon three people, each equally, distinctively different from not only each other but the rest of the world. One leaned against a wall, bored and languidly staring up at the clouds. His hair was orangish-blonde with black highlights in the back, his eyes lime green rimmed with yellow and covered by black square glasses, and he wore a normal black suit. One foot was on the wall, the other was propped up on a polished red lawn mower. The second in the group was androgynous with long red hair that flipped at random places, his eyes were like the others, his teeth were incredibly sharp like a shark, and his attire was also very different from the other two.

He wore a black vest upon a white shirt, black pants, red pumps, and a red jacket that he wore off his shoulders. On his face were red framed glassed that had chains and on those chains, was a little skull. In his hand was a crimson chainsaw with black, gold, and silver patterns. His voice, strangely passionate, strained, and pitched oddly, spoke out shyly to the other who was a clean-cut gentle man who wore a suit like the blonde ones and had black glasses. They all shared glasses and eye color in common though the third gentleman was more placid and proper with his smoothed back black hair and curt frown as he spoke back.

"You know very well, Grell, that what you have done was careless!" He spoke in a formal, strict tone.

"Yes, I know, but can't you forgive me this once, Willy?" The redhead replied, dripping with passionate heat and flirtatious in nature.

William, the man in the suit and black hair, pushed up his glasses and showcased a no funny business attitude. His arm extended and in his arm, was a long hedge clipper which had its sharp end pointed at the sharp-toothed man's throat.

"Watch it Sutcliff, with the cute little names. I am your superior and you will address me as Mr. Spears or William. Got that? And as for forgiving you I have too many times, you need to be punished. And furthermore, Mr. Knox, you have violated rule number 43 of being a reaper, never tell anyone you're a reaper."

"Well she was a hot girl…." The blonde complained.

"That's definitely not an excuse and…wait…I smell a demon…"

"Oooooh~, is it my Se-bas-Chan?!"

"I'm afraid yes," William concluded with a shudder of disgust.

Grell turned around, his bloody colored hair nearly whipping William in the face but to his disappointment it was only a box, small and black. The blonde was about to pick it up when William smacked his hand violently.

"No! You fool! It could be a trap!"

"Oh, any trap is a good trap if it's a trap from my sassy Bassy. He could entrap me in those arms anytime!"

"Enough foolishness, Sutcliff. Let us take out leave and I will deliver your punishment accordinglyyyyy-What are you doing Knox, I told you not to touch that!"

"What? It's just a box. I want to see what's inside, you dig?"

"No! I certainly do not 'dig'! Put that down or I will downgrade your reaping tool!"

"Harsh, man, definitely not cool. Come on, William, just a peek?"

"Yes, William, I am curious to see what my darling demon has left me."

"No, I forbid it!"

Ronald Knox, the blonde, knocked over the top of the box on purpose but said "oops" innocently with a cheeky smile. William nearly strangled him but while he was distracted Grell looked inside the box, becoming most jovial.

"Well what is it?" Ronald questioned, pushing William away from him, "Yo, get off me, boss man."

"For the last time, Knox, you are the junior, I am the senior. Call me Mr. Spears."

"It's a sucker, you can have it Ronnie, I'm not much for sweets unless it's the sweet taste of a kiss…but here's the good part. A note that says that little brat has finally bit the dust!"

"How curious…" William stated simply, pushing up his glasses. He never did get them fitted correctly and so they were always slipping.

"Hmmm?" Grell sort of moaned out, lifting one eyebrow up.

"Yes…it's curious. We should have gotten warned about that…but he's not even showing up anywhere in the reaping records…"

"So what? That demon ate the boy's soul," Ronald concluded.

"I don't think that's the case, Knox. We get warned about lost souls here. We didn't this time…which means one thing. His soul wasn't eaten…"

"Which means what? How is he dead with no eaten soul? This makes no sense," Grell pondered, but actually didn't care in the least.

"It means that something happened to the soul…it's a rare case but it does happen. The young boy has become a demon himself."

"WHAT?!" Grell shouted on the top of his lungs.

"How does something like this happen?" Ronald asked with a light curiosity.

"The soul becomes nothing, it melts away like ice on a hot day and a person with no soul is either a reaper or a demon, in this case he is a demon. Now he disgusts me even more. There is nothing we can do about it, let us leave."

Ronald nodded and was about to leave when he saw Grell venomously glaring at the paper.

"You coming, Senpai?"

"Fucking demons…I've always been fascinated by them…Hell, I love one…but now…now with that Brat being one…now I found one to hate. He gets to be beside my Bassy for eternity! I want to know, Ronald, you're going to help me find out."

"Find out what?"

"Find out who did this to that Brat and then we are going to find someone, someone who can kill a demon."

So it began. The little black box dispersed its news onto everyone, hitting them each in different ways. For one it may cause joy, for one despair, for others it creates hatred. A box, plain and simple, states the death of a young boy who isn't dead. As William stated he was alive, as not a human but a blood thirsty demon. A little black box, its intention is to inform but the response changed the chessboard on which the demon butler, the one who delivered the boxes, and his demon master dance the Danse Macabre.