As I've said, I had a strange idea to write a sequel – something like a little pre-story to what happened in the first chapter. Tried to be more IC here. Your opinion always welcome)
The mellow silence of the red chamber augmented with every second as the night waned. The fragrance of the roses, fluorescent in the darkness, was inseparable from this black-and-scarlet symphony of solitude. Grell was thinking…
The red reaper was unaccustomed to dwelling on a certain subject before going to sleep – no, that was completely against his flippant nature. To tell the truth, he rarely used to sleep at night at all. He would disappear into the darkness and saunter in the deserted alleyways of London till dawn or plunge into a train of bawdy parties or masquerades, where he had never been invited. These were his own little exquisite vices. When he did find himself in bed, the only thought he could spare before falling asleep was of some man or other with whom he was currently infatuated. With the fastidiousness of a lady could he compose in his head the image of a dream lover and sigh himself to sleep – but never more than that. So why the hell would he of all people be now dwelling on his remembrances, with this curious doll-like creature curled by his side, a lock of his vermillion hair clasped tightly in her hand? One could say they had been for quite a while together. My-my, even Madam would have been unable to change him so much. How did he ever come across the Red Rose? It was a ridiculous story which he remembered well…
It happened during one of Grell's nightly rambles across a filthy East-Side side-street – those side-streets always smell of desperate poverty, blood and prostitution. The shinigami didn't know what he was looking for in a place like that. Perhaps, it was a sense of nostalgia. The clicking of his low heels was the only sound audible, when suddenly Grell was caught unawares by a sharp, piercing, heart-rendering cry. A cry of pain. A woman's cry… Grell's gloved hand tightened around the handle of his death scythe – the chainsaw that was forever with him. It must have been one of those fallen street women, surrounded by an aura of cheap vulgarity he abhorred and despised so much. The red-head missed his and Madam's vindictive crimes under the disguise of Jack the Ripper and it would be a nice tribute to his deceased accomplice, he thought, to paint the cobblestones with the magnificent red of this wretch's contaminated blood. Oh, it would be such a pleasure to cut the cold steel through the paltry slut's body, thus alleviating her throes. His feminine lips curved in a smirk, revealing shark-like teeth, as the reaper hastened to where the voice was coming from. He lurked behind a wall and peeped carefully around the corner to watch what was going on. It was not what he had expected to see, however. What he did see made his green eyes widen with surprise.
The action, whatever it was, took place deeper in the dark alley and all Grell could see were grotesque shadows of the objects produced by a gas street-lamp. It was something like a twisted shadow play. The reaper saw a small shadow crouching and wreathing in seeming agony, but couldn't make out what it was. The shape looked like that of a human but the size of it made Grell doubt. It was too small to be a woman – more like a dwarf or a child, or, oddly, of a doll. The victim cried with unwonted pain and trembled as if in convulsion. Suddenly the shape began to alter – it grew bigger and more slender and the outlines of it looked more like a body. Grell watched the transformation with astonishment and curiosity, mesmerized.
Finally the shadow stretched with a last shriek and stood erect for a second, falling on the ground immediately after. It became silent again. Grell hesitated whether to take to his heels or go and check what it was all about before his natural female curiosity made him do the latter. Still death scythe in hand, he left his ambush and stared in the gloom of the alleyway so that he could see the queer object itself, not just the shadow. The lamplight snatched from the darkness the outlines of a large old-fashioned-looking case with a golden rose on top, lying opened on the ground. Not far from it was a girl's body. But this girl looked nothing like what Grell had imagined her to be.
She was tall and slender and her skin was milk-white and as smooth as porcelain. She had the finest long shiny hair, much like Grell's own, but instead of red it was of a pale golden hue. She was unconscious, stretched negligently on the ground, naked. The only thing that covered her body were thick red ribbons wrapped around it in a curious way to conceal what was considered indecent, but to reveal and highlight the well-proportioned curves. She was something Grell had never seen in real life.
The reaper's heart palpitated at the sight of such beauty. No, he had no fancy for women and the sight of a pretty naked girl didn't arouse him in that way, but, as a true aesthete, he didn't fail to appreciate the subtle, aristocratic delicacy of her looks. She was nearly perfect and would be even more so painted in his favourite colour. His first impulse was to fulfill his original plan and slash his chainsaw against the glowing young skin, but then he checked himself. The bright ribbons made for the amount of red her blood could provide – she was perfect as she was. Grell squatted down and examined the girl's features carefully. A red ruby, she was almost a female alternative of his own gorgeous self, he thought. Why was he suddenly attracted to this girl he didn't know? Why pity and mercy her? No, he wasn't beguiled, he was interested. There was definitely something about her which was worth his attention.
The unwilling adventurer pulled off his coat and wrapped the lifeless girl in it. Her body was cold and slack and she didn't react. Jeez, red suited her so wonderfully as if she had been born to wear the colour. "Yeah, Grell, you're faaantastic at finding a pain for your sexy ass!" the shinigami grumbled to himself and tried to take the findling in his arms and lift her. The burden was as light as a feather but Grell groaned, his knees trembled and he nearly collapsed altogether. He wasn't used to carrying girls around bride-style, he was used to being carried (desirably, by strong attractive men). But there was nothing doing. To crown his miseries, something like a red firefly flew out from the wooden case and started circling around Grell, as if trying to make him leave the girl alone. "Great, an annoying bug", the shinigami stated desperately and went on walking, fanning the insect away. Thanks God, Madam Red's mansion, where he lived when being in London, was not a far way off.
Shinku gave a tiny moan as she tried to move. Her body ached all over as though she had real muscles. Struggling a little more with herself she opened her eyes and…
The first thing she saw was the green-eyed toothy face of an unfamiliar red-haired man (uh, if it was a man at all) staring at her intently. "Finally! I thought you were not coming to senses again", he said in a capricious way and waved his groomed hand negligently. The sight of the flamboyant monster gave the Rozen Maiden the fright of her life and she screamed on top of her voice, forgetting that it was less than proper for a well-bred lady. Unaware of such a hostile reaction, Grell also gave a scream, more girlish and high-pitched than Shinku's, and backed away from her. The doll raised her hand to slap the saucy intruder (Oh, that was something she was good at), but paused as she caught sight of it. Her hand looked… different. Her fingers were now longer and thinner, with a red ribbon tied around the wrist and all the way down her arm, and there was no ball-joint. She gasped and examined her body.
Shinku found herself in a bedroom decorated with all shades of scarlet she could think of. She herself was sitting in a high-backed plush armchair, dressed in nothing but a long wide-skirted red coat and the said ribbons wrapped tightly about her figure. It wasn't her body. It was that of a human. Seized by panic and agitation, she gasped again, jumped off the armchair and rushed to the full-length mirror in the corner, nearly knocking down the bewildered reaper. In the mirror Rozen's fifth daughter saw herself a human.
Tears gushed out from her eyes as mixed feelings of incomprehension, fear and surprise overwhelmed her. The memory of last night struck her as thunder – her sudden convulsion, body distorted with pain and oblivious darkness afterwards. Willing, but still unable to believe, she quickly shed the coat and tugged at the end of the ribbon at her neck to make it slid gracefully down her naked form and form a pool of scarlet at her feet. Grell turned around discreetly. It wasn't that he felt shy or awkward at the tempting sight – it was just good manners. Pretty naked women weren't a big deal for the gender-confused reaper. If it were a naked man, he would think twice before turning around. If it were a hot naked man, then let good manners be hanged!
Unaware that she was standing completely bare in the presence of a man, Shinku examined herself in the mirror, tears of emotion flowing down her cheeks. She was a beauty. Tall enough to reach any door-knob, with full round breasts, an elegant waist and smooth hips. Her golden hair was streaming down her back, slightly disheveled. What could it all mean? Why would she become human all of a sudden? It was Father's wish, no doubt – it was a new stage of the Alice Game. Perhaps, that was what Alice, perfection embodied, looked like. But she was not Alice yet, she was just closer to becoming her and she had to be strong to fight and endure. It was Father's sign to act, it was his gift, she was sure. "Father… You trust me… You made me human, like yourself… I will win the game… and become Alice… I promise! I will find you!" she muttered in between sobs, unable to take her eyes off of her reflection.
After some time the pieces of ribbon at her feet started to glow and crawl up her legs to form her regular outfit – the red Victorian dress, which now reached down to her feet, with a cape and a bonnet. Even her hair was parted into familiar pigtails. She was the same crimson doll, but better, a hundred times better than before, because she was human. A real heart beating within her chest and no key needed to wind her up…
Having dried her tears and composed herself in a way becoming for a lady, she finally tore herself away from the mirror and actually noticed Grell still standing discreetly with his back to her. Till now she hadn't thought how she had come to be in his house. He looked over his shoulder to see if she was finished. Dressed elegantly but with a tinge of eccentricity, with neat red-brimmed glasses, he had strangely feminine features, yet stranger teeth, bewitching yellowish-green eyes and a most perfect mane of hair. A strange guy it was. But he wasn't a total stranger. Looking closer, Shinku realized she had actually seen him before. One could by no means forget the sumptuous waves of scarlet locks he possessed.
"Hm… Thank you for giving me shelter for the night, human", she said ruffling her dress in her hands. The proud Shinku was embarrassed to thank anybody – she was used to taking everything for granted and hated being dependent, but it couldn't be helped.
Grell smiled with a pleased cocky smile that made a shiver run down the girl's spine. "Oh, it's nothing. As a rule, I'm not into charity, you know", he said in a sugary voice while examining his perfectly groomed nails. "But you made me interested. Mind telling me your secret?" He sat down on the edge of the huge luxurious bed, eager to listen.
"Uh… What secret?" Shinku found it best to pretend ignorant. Now, when she was a living girl, it would prove hard to make people believe in the whole Rozen Maiden thing, so it would be more reasonable to act "normal".
"Come on, I know you're no ordinary person", he pulled a knowing face. "I saw you transform to a human from whatever you had been. There's no hiding, sis. Tell me about this Father and Alice you've just mentioned. I hope it will prove worthy of all the trouble I had dragging you here last night".
Shinku sighed and sat in the armchair opposite him. She hated being treated so disrespectfully but there was no way back. "Ok", she started, "you're sort of right. I am Shinku, daughter of Master Rozen and the fifth of the Rozen Maiden dolls". Trying to be as plain and as devoid of complicated details as she could, Shinku laid the story of her life before her weird companion. Having spoken out, she even felt kind of relieved – the last time she talked to somebody had been so long ago!
"Oh, that 's very nice!" Grell smiled from ear to ear when the narrative was finished. Of course, it was less beautiful and tragic than Madam's story, but it was amusing and definitely better than the dull paperwork he had to do at the Reaper Department. And he hadn't been mistaken about the girl – she was special after all and she had been made to be as red as a rose among her sisters.
"Now your turn", Shinku said, growing bolder and making herself more comfortable in the chair. She was anxious for requital. "I gather, you are no ordinary human either. I've seen you before".
The reaper cocked one brow incredulously. "Where?"
"At Mrs. Priston's deathbed. I saw you with the other man".
Mrs. Priston had been Shinku's last medium. She had been a half-mad ailing old lady who hadn't been much surprised at the talking doll and forged the contract quite eagerly, willing to find at least some companion. She was lonely, her husband long dead and all her relatives too scornful to maintain contact with her. Shinku wasn't happy with the old hag – she took the doll for a mute listener and kept babbling to her about her flat life over and over again. Yet, it was better than nothing for the Rozen Maiden who had lost her faith together with Jun.
Then Mrs. Priston fell seriously ill and it was clear she wouldn't last long. These days were the dreariest for Shinku. The old lady wasn't too dear to her – nothing like what Grandfather and Grandmother had been for Sou- and Suiseiseki, - but she spent days at her bedside and tried to comfort her as well as she could. Then, one night…
It was a dark cloudless night with a full moon shining brightly in the window. Mrs. Priston had grown worse, but she was tranquil and seemingly prepared for her lot. Shinku sat on the bed beside her as usual. Suddenly, she heard a strange fluttering noise and caught sight of something hovering outside the window. Somebody was getting into the room. It must have been burglars, though the lonely old woman wasn't rich enough to be worth their trouble. Shinku wondered why Mrs. Priston's maid downstairs wasn't alarmed by the intruders, but she decided to hide and pretend to be an ordinary toy not to scare them away. If they were real burglars, she would take them by surprise.
She watched two men climb into the room through the open window. One resembled those businessmen she had seen on TV when living at Jun's – tall, black-haired, dressed in a suit and wearing glasses, cool and concentrated. He carried some strange gardening tool in his hands. "Burglars are getting more and more twisted these days", she thought. The other one skipped into the room gracefully from the windowsill. He was nothing like his partner. A flash of crimson with long red hair. He looked aristocratic enough for Shinku's taste, but for a chainsaw in his hands – that was completely out of place. "A charming little place", he observed in a singsong voice, examining the room with the look of an expert. "It only lacks a bit of luxury. And a bit of red as well".
"Don't touch anything here!" the other man snapped as his companion took a dainty statuette from the bedside table. "I brought you to assist me, not to make matters worse!"
"Sorry, darling!" the red one apologized in a guilty manner and assumed a concentrated air.
Those two were an odd pair indeed. They didn't look like burglars. Shinku was at a loss what to do. Mrs. Priston, on the other hand, looked calmly at the unwanted guests – she didn't scream and wasn't the least bit surprised to see them. "You have come to take me away from here?" she asked in a perfectly tranquil meaningful tone.
"Yes, Ma'm, I am sorry to say you are about to die", the black-haired man said as if it were his professional duty. "You have lived a fine life, but it's time to go to rest now. Wait a little, it won't last long".
"And it won't hurt", the red one assured with a comforting smile.
His companion approached the old woman's bed. He soothed her and she closed her eyes. He made a tiny, hardly visible puncture on her neck with the sharp end of his instrument and strange long stripes strongly resembling cinema film flowed in the air from the dying woman's frame. It showed episodes of Mrs. Priston's life like a chronicle, though Shinku knew it was long before television would be invented. She watched breathlessly this beautiful yet fearful proceeding and was glad the men didn't notice her.
The red-haired one gathered the film softly between his gloved hands and cut its end from the woman's body with a pair of tiny scissors. His partner pulled a notebook out of his pocket and took something down in it. "Amelia Priston, aged 89 – done", he said in a business-like tone and closed the book. "We can go now".
The other man examined the dead woman with a queer interest and when he noticed the rose ring on her finger, his emerald eyes sparkled. "Ooooh, what a lovely ring!" he observed with excitement.
"Sutcliffe! Stop being an idiot! We're leaving", the other said sternly and turned around to go.
"Coming!" the other whined reluctantly. He plucked a single red rose from the vase on the table and smelled it with a blissful smile. As the gentle petals brushed against his soft lips, Shinku trembled involuntarily. The young man tore a few petals and dropped them spectacularly on the corpse. "Sweet dreams, my good woman", he said in a silky insinuated voice which made the doll tremble again.
The two men escaped through the window, leaving the dead woman alone in the room. When her body was cold and lifeless, the rose ring slowly faded away from her finger. Shinku had just lost another medium.
"So you were in the room all the time. Will would be mad if he knew we were watched!" Grell giggled when Shinku cleared out the situation. "Will's the other man, my sexy but cruel boss. We're both shinigami".
"Shini… what?" Shinku asked blankly. Though she had lived with Jun in Japan for quite a while, the word didn't tell her anything,
Grell sighed. "So we're a sophisticated English lady. Does the term grim reaper ring any bells?"
Shinku's sky-blue eyes widened in sheer amazement. "Wait, you mean you reap human souls? Don't you mean to say you are… death itself?"
"A nice guess, Red Rose", the other retorted mockingly.
The fifth Rozen Maiden couldn't believe her eyes. Of all people in London she happened to come across a death god. So that's what it looked like. She gazed at him differently now. This made her recall Poe's Mask of the Red Death – she had read a lot while living at Jun's and this short story had always disgusted and enchanted her at the same time. Now she had similar feelings towards the man opposite her. The only difference was that he was much more refined and handsome than the Red Death in the book. Or beautiful. Whichever word suited him better.
"And may I know your name, then?" she asked in an offended tone. Shinku hated being mocked at.
"Grell Sutcliffe", the other replied. For some reason, Shinku thought it was more melodious than Jun Sakurada. There was a tiny pause. "You know, it's weird that two such people should bump into each other twice like that. Still, if there's nothing else to talk about, I think you'd better go. And take your annoying bug with you".
He motioned at the small jar on the mantelpiece with the red firefly thrashing inside nervously. "Holie?" her mistress exclaimed on top of her voice. "How could you put my artificial spirit in a jar?" Honestly, she was very cross with the impudent effeminate creature who didn't realize the honour of being in her presence at all!
"Yeah, right. Spirit or not, it was a real pester", the shinigami stated peevishly and shoved the jar to Shinku. "Now, I'm late for work and Will won't be happy about it. Have a nice day!"
The next moment Shinku found herself standing unceremoniously on the porch of the mansion, her wooden case in hand, the jar with Holie tucked under the other arm. She fumed at such ungentlemanlike treatment. This red-head really thought too much of himself. But, on the other hand, it was nice of him to put her up for the night – it was much better than remaining unconscious and half-naked in the street. She was surprised too that Sutcliffe didn't once try to harass her or touch her without permission – she didn't even have the opportunity to slap him for being gross. And, taking her present situation into account, he didn't even take advantage of it – now that Shinku was human he might well have done it. That was sort of a pleasant surprise, for Shinku had been forever convinced that human males were highly vulgar creatures. But, again, how could he remain unaffected by her lady's charms? A true gentleman would have been more gratifying. Something was seriously wrong with the man. He wasn't even a man, to come to think of it, he was a shini… something with a horrendous chainsaw which shouldn't even be in the Victorian timeline. Yet, that wonderful red colour he was mad about as much as herself… She had a mixed impression of her new acquaintance.
But there were more vital things to puzzle over at present. Shinku stepped off the doorstep and looked around. Where would she go now that she was human? She had to find a place to live in. And, more importantly, she had to find a new medium, for her power had been greatly diminished by the transformation. Her present form would probably demand more of a medium's energy than before. "Hm, Grell Sutcliffe…" the Red Rose thought to herself as she walked away from the mansion.
After I have finished it struck me that it looks pretty much like a scene from Chobits with all that ribbn stuff, although it hadn't been intended to be that way. Who should care now? I hope to update again before too long, so be nice to me)
