Well, first in foremost. God, I started highschool today and I already hate it. I mean, the teachers are perfectly fine and all that but the kids I have in my classes and just….How each class is like, on the other side of the world is just….URGGGGGH. And then, I have my worst nightmare. I'm in AP English and the teacher….Oh my god, the teacher….I want to wring his neck like a mofo. I mean, I need an interesting teacher to keep me, y'know, into what we're doing and I have a feeling that's just not gonna fly. Dx
On another note this is short and squeezed and since school's back in session, everything will be updated even slower. I know man, I know. I be sorry. And also, I haven't updated what people want to be updated and it's just….I haven't really been feeling it. xD But don't worry, Pale Pastel's is almost done….Maybe…
While as I've been slacking off on my writing I've been filling up my time on a marathon of Supernatural. xD Got to Second Season, third or fourth episode. Haven't seen it in forever, I totally forgot the whole plot and everything. D:
Danse Macabre
Chapter One: Improper Guests
~oOo~
Third Person POV
"M'Lord, I've been told yer requestin' Kokeicha tea in favor a yer guests, I presume?" Shirosaki licked his lips as he stared down at his young master, who sat begrudgingly irritated on the expensive Victorian chair that had just recently been shipped to Japan from the States. As the tall, ghostly butler spoke, said master glanced up at his butler in that of complete and utter distaste.
"Have I?" Ichigo Kurosaki drawled as he stared at the ceiling of the remodeled mansion, ignoring the speaker blatantly as he continued to fiddle with his inked feather, annoyed that he was unable to finish his work before they had arrived. 'They' consisted of his three new work hands – Shirosaki had utterly insisted that he had needed more workers – even when he knew perfectly well that the demon was far better off on his own. It trifled Kurosaki to think the other would go as far as hire three more hands for the orangette's own good, but alas, he felt too tired and drained to figure out his butler's ulterior motive.
That, and the fact that his new workers were not his main performance at any cost. Those wretched businessmen always trying to seep their dirty claws into his business….He should just give the blasted things what they deserved already.
"Yes, M'Lord. Have ya fergotten?" Had Shirosaki been anyone else, he was more than sure that the glare he received would more or less burn a regular human right out of his loafers – however, there were two things wrong with the situation. For one, he was most assuredly not burning up at his master's feet – and, well, he also wasn't wearing loafers.
"Piss it, Shirosaki. I have work to finish. Just….Find something sweet for me to eat, will you? Deal with the guests at a later time." Ichigo ordered the albino with a fierce scowl, his eyes slight in a blaze that even had the albino demon shivering in slight fear….Er, well, hunger was more typically the feeling he had grown accustomed to. After all….His master's soul was that to be devoured in the most delicate and seductive ways. That's what he led himself to think, anyway.
"Master, I do request tha' ya –…"
"That is an order, Shirosaki. Remove yourself at this instant." His cold master, ever the one to demand, spoke in nothing short of an authorative tone. Doing as his master had asked him to, Shirosaki merely bowed and answered his masters order with a quiet 'A'course, M'Lord' before leaving his master to dwell in the depths of his work.
"Blasted demons…." He had heard his master mutter to himself as he excused himself from Ichigo's spare office. Holding back a sharp smirk in his all too white face, the demon shook his head lightly and closed the door, heeding the fact that his waist-length hair was yet to be caught in the grasp of that damned hinge. Sighing contently when the door had been closed behind him, Shirosaki began to mutter to himself about what his preparations would be for their upcoming guests.
Sousuke Aizen and Gin Ichimaru would be arriving no later than six P.M, leaving him about…an hour for the dinner to be completed. Nodding, as if satisfied by his lack of time, Shirosaki risked a glance at his pocket watch to seek the exact time. As he did so, out of the corner of his eye he say three figures stalking their way over the hill that the Kurosaki mansion rested on. With a curt nod and a placement of his pocket water back in his respectful spot, Shirosaki decided he best get on with dinner before his master became upset.
Shirosaki had carefully assessed the people that were walking up the hill at this moment. In truth, he needed no help in maintaining the Kurosaki Manor – after all, he ain't anything but rubbish if he was unable to do that little – but when he was protecting his master he needed at least something to rely on to protect what his master held onto most – the mansion. Which is why he chose these three as tributes to the family.
The first was Grimmjow Jeagerjaques. He was posing as the cook. Shirosaki had first spotted him in the middle of an argument with his superiors about their motives being rash and rather uncanny, which, in Grimmjow's eyes, had proceeded to spell out T-R-A-P. The albino had been shocked a mere human could figure such a well thought out plan out. Well, in any case, the first time he had introduced himself was after the battle – no, the massacre – were the blue-haired soldier had been sitting in a pit with dead figures all around him, smoking a cigarette as if it was his way of saying 'I told you so.' At his proposal and a compliment about the man's 'keen eye', the fighter was as good as taken.
The second was Hanataru. He was, in short, an experimented subject and in result to his painful life of being cooped up in a cell with nothing more to do other than speak to birds, he had an abnormal sense of inhuman strength that would more or less put most demons to shame. He had asked the other to join them – however, he had to promise the other the will to be outside more often than not due to his sheltered life – he was fairly simple, and would be useful around the home.
The third and final was Orihime Inoue. When Shirosaki had met her she was on another assassination mission – the albino could literally smell her tears as she lined up her sniper against the head of a father of a happy family, who stood next to his wife and a child – and he had jumped in immediately to offer her a job. After all, she wouldn't survive in the world if she had no job and from the looks of it she abhorred her old job – she would now be the maid.
They were all chosen for their special fighting skills and strengths. The butler was positive he would not regret his decision about such a fine group of humans, be that as it may.
"Oh my, I musn't dawdle like tha'…." Shirosaki murmured as he watched the old grandfather clock shake the walls with its loud chime, signaling the fact that it was, in fact, five o'clock and he had an exact hour to prepare his masters snack and the dinner for their special guests. The other servants would have to be put to work right away.
In any case, he was still sure an hour would be more than enough time to set the tables, wash, dry, and polish the dinner table, position the chairs and wash the silverware thrice over, make his masters snack and prepare dinner, fix the chandelier and light the candles, set the tablecloth and greet the guests in a fairly mannered fashion.
And if not, he was simply not a butler capable of his position of a loyal domestic to the family of the Kurosaki's.
~oOo~
"And the preparations are complete." Shirosaki smirked as he glanced at his work up and down for the millionth time that night. He had finished all his respectful duties and, with fifteen minutes to spare, he accomplished a few more finishing touches to the mansion around him before the… 'Respectful Patrons' arrived. If Shirosaki had his own way he would never let the two arriving guests set foot into his home – the mere thought of conversing with the Young Master was downgrading and henceforth underestimating the power of a young man.
Shirosaki himself was more or less indifferent about the men and woman he had recruited for the household maintenance. In a way, he thought they were mostly there for show. However, being as carefully picked as they were, it would make the albino's life a whole lot easier when he didn't have to worry about every tiny fly that thought they could take on the Kurosaki Manor. To him the thought was just laughable.
Speaking of the other servants….He would have to get them as soon as Young Master's discussion with the two men was completed. After all, he had more or less told them to shove themselves in a room until they were called due to the fact they were presumably in the way of his other tactics.
"Welcome to the Kurosaki Manor, Grimmjow, Hanataru, and Orihime. I hope you see yer new home fit. However, seeing as I am on an extremely tight schedule, I shall ask of you to wait in the guest room fer the time being. I shall get to ya when I 'ave completed my tasks."
It was a rather rushed but respectful greeting if Shirosaki said so himself.
And now, after all his preparations for Ichigo's new guests and also tending to his master's needs, the albino found himself, tailored suit and all, waiting just in front of the door he was about to open with two men staring at him as if they had completed such a daring job – walking into a house uninvited. It wasn't an accomplishment, per say, but it was adequately rude and the butler had to hold back from launching at the two humans because they were kind of getting on his everlasting nerves of eternal calmness and as annoying as those two men were, Shirosaki was calm and kept his composure for the sake of his masters reputation.
"Ah! You must be Shirosaki-san. I have only heard rumors about the ghostly butler himself, but to seek such a fine specimen in real life is truly fascinating…." To the voice, Shirosaki simply turned in the direction of the large front doors to meet with the gaze of who he was positive was Aizen, owner of an extremely large fashion company – ah, what was it, Grotesque Infliction Industries, or something of the sort?
With expert practice Shirosaki held back a degrading snarl and settled for a nice, peaceful smile, bowing towards the guests who had so gracefully let themselves in the manor.
How disgraceful….Shirosaki had thought then. To frankly degrade his master in such a manner….How exceedingly rude.
"Ma, ma. Aizen-sama, I do believe it's slightly early t'be lettin' yerself inta the home of the Kurosaki's – isn't it, Whitey?" The second voice had peeked out from behind the brown-haired nuisance, but instead of acting on his impulses and ripping the dirty little tongues out of both of the businessmen, Shirosaki only bowed once more to the newest subject to his annoyance.
"I see you have already let yourself in, kind sirs." Shirosaki dropped his accent for the sake of his master's reputation and bit out the words out of his lips as if they were a type of poison that only a demon would be able to die from. However, instead of catching his drift at him blandly stating that it was extremely rude in place of Ichigo Kurosaki himself, the fox and the hunter proceeded to walk themselves into the large welcoming room of Ichigo's home.
"Tha' we 'ave, Whitey. Now, we 'ave business with tha' Kurosaki himself, not the butler." Shirosaki, trying to hold back an amused grin of triumph, settled for waiting until the two men who were so blind-sighted to the other being behind him. He couldn't help but cock his head to the side in humour, though.
"I do appreciate if you did not speak to my personal servant in such a manner, Ichimaru."
Hiding the smirk and slight intake of gratitude he felt for his master, he bowed once more for real at the sight of his master walking down the stairs, cane in hand. Adorning his human's overly enticing body was a blue outfit made by the fittest of silk and wool, buttons crossing over the front of the Victorian-fashioned labor suit. The heels on his finely polished shoes clacked as he descended down the wooden stairs leading down to the three figures, leaving Shirosaki only to shake his head and promptly remind himself that he would have to polish the floors later.
"Ah, Kurosaki-san! How have ya been lately? I presume ya –…."
"Cut the condolences, Ichimaru. Follow me. Shirosaki, serve dinner at the table and proceed to meet with us in my office." Shirosaki bowed respectfully and nodded, turning away to do exactly as his master told him to do. Nodding, as if satisfied, Ichigo turned and directed himself back up the stairs. "I assume you have –…."
"Sir Kurosaki, don't you think it's a little…improper to house a mere servant in our private meetings?" Aizen asked a little begrudgingly, his dark brown eyes slightly narrowed, as if testing the orangette. Ichigo, with years of holding back his horrible temper, smirked back at the man with a twinge of venom and began walking up the perfectly polished pristine mahogany stairs towards his less-used office for negotiation.
"See to it that you do not point what's proper and improper in my home, Ichimaru. It would do you quite well." The orangette stated gruffly as he paid close attention to the footsteps behind him – only cautioning if the steps had either picked up or slowed down. Though he had no trouble going up the stairs with the two, of course, the fox himself had to open his mouth as soon as they reached the top.
"Maa maa, Ichigo-san. This is quite the mansion you have here."
Ichigo scoffed and directed the two to the right. "It is hardly my own creation. Thank my ancestors if you see to it being intricate." Ichigo scowled and walked stiffly down the extremely long hallway, his slightly heeled feet dragging against the bloody red carpet of the floor. Aizen and Ichimaru, from behind him, risked a glance at each other, almost as if contemplating a deed. Eyes narrowing, Ichigo stiffly continued to walk with his carved silver dragon cane in hand.
"This painting is beautiful, Sir Kurosaki. I can see where you inherited your youthful features." Aizen pointed out as the young Kurosaki careless passed the family portrait of his family, henceforth causing him to pause and glance back at his guest with angered dismay and annoyance.
"It will be torn in a few given days, anyway. I have no bond with that painting. So please, if you will follow me…."
