Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone who favorited and started following Cheating Death. I hope it lives up to your expectations.
Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are property of Himaruya
~X~
"Let's make a deal, shall we? I'm sure you won't regret it…."
The Austrian bit his lip nervously. This was all too much, too soon. Within a matter of minutes, he had been told that he was dead, and that Death was offering him some sort of nameless reward. "What exactly does this deal entail?" he asked softly.
He could almost feel the darkness smirking at him. "You have your options, of course. Currently, I'm in need of an Assassin, and an Assigner."
Roderich's brow furrowed, not understanding what either of those meant.
"As an Assassin, you would be collecting souls for me. Your debt would equate one hundred and twenty five souls, or approximately twelve and a half years."
That was odd. "Collecting… Souls?" Roderich repeated.
"Well, to put it crudely, you would essentially kill them," Death explained. "You would be assigned a weapon, and use it to collect their souls."
The pianist felt the blood drain from his face. He couldn't kill another person. Roderich could barely stand to crush a spider, much less kill a human being. "And an Assigner?" he inquired. It didn't sound as violent, so Roderich thought it could be the more promising offer.
"You would be pairing Assassins with those on the Kill List. Your debt would equal twenty years of service."
That caused Roderich to flinch. Twenty years… He had barely even lived twenty years. "What do I get from this deal?" he asked. Already, he was leaning towards not even accepting. He was no murderer, and twenty years of service just seemed too long. There was nothing that could be worth that.
Roderich could feel Death's grin. "Humanity," he said, velvet voice caressing the word. "If you pay off your debt, you will become human again. You will be able to live your life just like anyone else."
Roderich's breath caught in his throat. He could come back. There was a chance at this not being the end. Suddenly, the twenty years seemed even longer, and the killing almost looked like it might be the better alternative.
"I accept," he whispered. "I accept your deal."
Death chuckled. "And which position would you like to take, Roderich Edelstein?" he asked.
He clenched his fists. This was it. Lose twenty years, or take over one hundred lives for a shorter sentence. "Assassin," he replied. His voice was still soft as ash, and it was a struggle to put together a coherent thought. But it was still something he had to do.
"Let me explain certain ramifications before you make it official," Death cautioned. "You will basically have to live in the shadows for the duration of your deal. No contact with the living unless it's absolutely necessary, which will mean that you will essentially live on the streets. Fortunately, you will be unable to feel the cold for the majority of your deal, so winters will not be a problem.
"No human is to ever know about this sort of deal. If you think one suspects, you must immediately come to me."
Roderich nodded slowly, not even able to absorb this information. It all seemed like a scarily lucid dream. Everything was too ridiculous.
"And one last thing…" Death paused. "If you are unable to complete a soul collection, for any reason, your own soul is forfeit. You will essentially be damned."
He felt a sudden chill run through him.
Death continued. "If you suspect you will be unable to complete a kill, forty eight hours notice must be given to the secretary. He will approve or deny reassignment. If they deny it… You must complete it, no matter what."
Suddenly, a snow-white pedestal materialized in front of Roderich. A black book lay open on top of it.
"If you accept, sign your name," Death said. "If you decline… Now is your last chance to say anything."
Nervously, Roderich adjusted his glasses. It was ethics versus the chance of being able to live again. After what seemed like an eternity of thought, Roderich picked up the pen.
~X~
"Your next three assignments, Edelstein," Vash said as he nearly slammed the manila folders on his desk.
Roderich scoffed. The Swiss man was as rude as ever. Without a word, he picked up the files and began to flip through them. A girl was going to die in a car crash, and two boys were to jump off a bridge to their deaths.
He scowled faintly. That certainly wouldn't go over well. "I demand a reassignment."
Vash snorted. "Tough luck. I'm all out of patience for your reassignments."
The Austrian leveled a glare at the other, violet eyes hardened by fifteen years spent as an Assassin. "No. Reassign them," he ordered.
Vash quirked a brow, and stood up behind his desk. "Do you really think you're in any sort of position to place demands on me?" he asked lowly. "Don't forget, Edelstein, I'm the one who makes sure you get these. If you keep testing my patience, I may misplace them."
That was only partially true, as Roderich knew. There was someone who ranked above the secretary. If Vash were to refuse to give Roderich his assignments, he would simply go over his head.
Death would likely damn the blond for his actions.
A small smirk curved his lips. He turned on his heel, all three folders in hand. A soft click followed as he walked down the marble-tiled hall.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Vash snapped.
Roderich didn't answer, choosing to continue his path at a determined, measured pace. Within minutes, he was at Death's door.
The level of normalcy attached to it continually amused Roderich. The fabled 'doorway to Death' was no more than a simple wooden door. Nothing distinguished, or notable.
Without knocking, he walked through and was instantly enveloped by darkness.
It was almost comforting to him. The blackness was almost like a protective blanket against the blinding light of his daily life.
"And what are you doing here?" Death asked, irritation barely concealed with a shroud of geniality.
A mask of polite indifference settled over his face. If he wanted this to work, Roderich would have to play this just right. "Sir, I've been assigned two suicides that I am unable to complete. I came to request that you reassign them, as Vash Zwingli refuses to do so."
He could almost hear Death sigh in frustration. "Roderich Edelstein, this is why you are still working off your debt after all this time. You ask for everything to be reassigned. You will complete your orders as they were given to you."
A slight scowl marred his disguise. "Sir, I am unable," he repeated. "Please give them to someone else."
"No."
This wasn't even remotely going according to plan. His mind worked quickly to find another angle. "An exchange, then," he proposed. "I will do two different assignments, instead of the double suicide. I will work within the same time frame, as well."
There was a pause in the darkness as he considered the young man's offer. Roderich dared hope that this may work.
"You will do the suicides," Death said. "But I will take Marissa Harrison's death away from you. This is a warning. I don't want you here on a petty reassignment issue."
Roderich released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. Shock crossed his expression openly. "My apologies," he murmured as he turned back towards the door.
As he passed Vash's desk, he slid the car accident back to him before wordlessly leaving the building.
Only when the glass door was shut did he allow a triumphant smirk to turn his lips. Really, it was too easy.
Death was a busy man; he would never grant Roderich's request when the man had came in the way he did. But, if he were to ask for the opposite of what he wanted… It was almost guaranteed that Roderich would get exactly what he had wanted.
~X~
Once again, Roderich found himself standing outside of a concert hall. Sometimes, he imagined that he could hear the music flowing through the building. He would pretend that he could hear the crescendos, the pounding of the timpani, and the graceful dance of the flute.
Of course, it was all speculation. He was always careful to keep his distance, and kept to the shadows the night provided.
The brunette was always more comfortable in the darkness. He felt he belonged there, like another shadow.
An added bonus was that he could watch the people as they left. It was interesting to see the high society women with their designer gowns walking next to the college students with worn out slacks.
One in particular caught his eye tonight. This one hadn't even made an effort to dress up, Roderich noted with disdain. His jeans were starting to get holes in the knees, and his defense against the early-April chill was a black hoodie. Completely unsuitable for an orchestra concert.
From the safety of the shadows, he glared at the man. How people could be so disrespectful was beyond him.
To his dismay, Roderich noticed the man getting closer until he could make out his features in the darkness. He drew back instantly, not wanting to lose his view of the crowds, but equally unwilling to allow the two of them to get much closer.
His hair was shockingly fair, almost silver in the moonlight, as was his skin. The way he walked was strange as well. If Roderich were to try and describe it, he would say it was deliberately purposeless. A wide stride, but meanderingly slow.
In a flash, their eyes met, and Roderich was transported back almost a decade ago, when he was much newer to his job.
He had seen those red eyes before. It had only been for a moment, but that color was hard to forget. He had killed a young woman who crashed her car early in the morning, and when he turned around, a teenage boy was watching with wide, awestruck eyes.
Suddenly, the man's step quickened and he was soon not even a foot away.
The brunette glanced around, looking for a quick escape. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest as he saw that there was nowhere really to run.
The strange albino grasped his wrist almost roughly, and tugged him slightly closer. "Come with me," he insisted softly with a voice akin to gravel.
The instinct to pull away was weaker than Roderich's actual attempt. Instead, he leveled a glare at the man. "And why should I?" he asked, making sure to speak aloofly.
A half-smile, half-grimace twisted his lips. "Because I don't think you want the world to know you're a Grim Reaper," he replied.
Roderich's blood ran cold. There was no way he could even remotely know that. "Excuse me?" he asked, keeping the off-handed manner. The more distant Roderich could appear, the more better. Only fools showcased their emotions.
The stranger—German, if Roderich were to place his accent—rolled his eyes impatiently. "You aren't stupid. Or deaf. You have no shadow, and there's a sword at your waist. Mind explaining that?"
He fought to keep himself from gaping. "It's night. Of course I have no shadow," he improvised. "As for the sword… I would suggest you stop taking whatever you're taking. You're seeing things."
Mentally, Roderich reminded himself to keep his breathing steady. Even if this man could see it… He couldn't drop his façade quite yet.
His grip on the Austrian's wrist tightened. "Stop beating around the bush," he retorted. "Just come with me, and answer some questions. Then you can go and we'll both pretend this never happened. Ok?"
Roderich's glare dropped to the hand around his wrist. "I'm assuming I don't really have a choice in the matter," he commented mildly.
The German albino shrugged. "You can always kill me."
'Tempting,' he thought. 'If only I could.'
Outwardly, he shook his head. "I'm not one for needless bloodshed," he said. "I suppose I'll go along with your idiotic game. But if I get the sense that this is anything short of harmless…" His scowl intensified. "I will personally take your life."
An almost childish smile curved the man's lips. "I would expect nothing else."
