Kuroshitsuji © Yana Toboso
OCs © reaper-of-lost-souls
A/N: Okay! Here's the first official chapter, like promised! I'll be working tomorrow so we'll see if I post up the next chapter, but I'm certainly going to try to keep writing this story. I'll be leaving on a trip in a couple of weeks, but by then I should have some chapters up. This story gets depressing, fast, and the fact that shinigamis are created through suicide is certainly in this story. I don't know if I'll change how Undertaker acts in this story, if it'll follow the manga timeline, but since this is before the main canon it'll take its own turn. Just if I make it to the actual Kuorshitsuji timeline I don't know if I'll have Undertaker as a zombie creator or not… We'll see. We still have a lot of story to cover. I'll say sorry now for the long winded parts of the story. I tend to monologue too much. That's just how I write. Well… ENJOY! If you guys like this story or have suggestions for future conflicts go ahead and comment. I don't mind hearing suggestions and I'll try to write back to you guys as soon as possible.
! #$%^&*()
You stared at yourself in the mirror, your eyes growing darker and darker as you stared at your naked image: your growing lumps, your delicate hands, your silky, long strange hair, the paleness of your skin. You were the perfect image of a woman, you supposed, a young ripe maiden waiting to be plucked. However everything felt so… fleeting. Nothing could stay the same; not forever. You stared at the scissors lying on the counter of the sink, pondering what you were planning on doing.
Of course a shinigami couldn't quite kill themselves with basic blades and sharp objects. It took more to take down an already dead human, and you were no different. Your intentions weren't to kill yourself, though you've certainly had a few bright ideas to do so, but you were killing off a part of yourself that you've clung to for ages. Your timid, good for nothing child, the prefect pretty young woman who listens to everything, who never complains, who does what she's told. That idea of always obeying followed you into this hell of an afterlife, but now… you had a chance to change that. You could become someone better, someone different.
You sighed. The curator in charge of the funeral could always be informed by yours truly that the one that had died was a female, not a male, but… he was kind enough to let you do this. You wanted to do this. You just… weren't sure if you should go through with it. To change who you are so you can feel accepted, feel whole. Is it right for you to kill off one part of yourself to satisfy another?
"… I guess in a way this is commemorating him," you spoke to yourself while you picked up the scissors, your hair still dripping from the shower you just took as you pondered the possibilities of the plan both working and falling apart at the seams. "Alex did say he would rather switch places with me after… realizing everything that was to come. I should have been the one to die," you thought aloud while you stared at the blade, wondering if perhaps you could actually kill yourself, but once again you were painfully reminded that you are a death bringer, a grim reaper, a creature that simply cannot die unless Death itself lets you pass on. You're not so petty as to search for demons or angels to kill you, you're too prideful for that, but you wanted everything to end… and in a way this is ending your own life, you suppose.
Taking on the form of your deceased brother; living the life he cannot. At least in this way you can find a reason to keep living, to move forward. As this woman that you are… that's just not possible. You might as well throw yourself into a coma if you stay this pathetic girl for the rest of your eternal life.
So you reached up, your hands trembling slightly as you pulled back your long hair into a ponytail, your eyes staring into the mirror one last time. As time went on your eyes developed a strange golden glow that no other grim reaper seems to have, but your long bangs kept that odd hue from view. You kept your hair long just to stay hidden, but your brother had short hair. Messy hair, but it was still short. You opened the scissors. You could always turn back, you supposed. You didn't have to do this, but… it would be easiest this way. The dispatch would never let a woman into their ranks, never let a female like you become an officer, your dream. When you awoken you thought perhaps you could finally have a place to belong, a place where everyone was in the same boat, but… no. No, you were stuck listening to the crummy rules that women seem to have to listen to. No matter where you seem to go this stays the same. It's always the same… and you're sick of it.
You could hear the slice as your scissors began to cut through your long beautiful hair. The stray hairs fell to the ground around you, your free hand clutching the long strands until the blades reached the other side of your head. You let out a tired sigh, holding out the clump of hair and discarding the hairs into the waste basket beside you. You looked at yourself once again, pondering your decision.
You smirked. You couldn't help yourself. This was a travesty, but now you had a chance to be someone so much better than you are. After all Alexander is your older brother. He's the person you've always wished to be. He got so many privileges in his life while you were stuck with scraps. This way Lilliana Byrne did die. She is no more. Instead she will be replaced with Alexander Byrne, a twin that has recently lost his darling little sister.
You spent time styling your hair. It was quite hard considering you had to remember what your brother looks like. Over time you can change this style, but you certainly have to look like him, at first. Your hair was a strange color of jet black and dark royal purple. No one truly notices the purple unless you're standing out in the sunlight, but your hair follicles are indeed purple, looking quite dark and black in a distance. Your bangs were now cut short, but still messy, your hair now short against your neck and still quite messy. It was fine. You just lost a sibling. You weren't exactly expected to be fully presentable by combing through your hair and straightening out the sharp cuts and messy style. You weren't a barber after all. This was kind of difficult to get everything exactly right.
You combed through your hair to get rid of the stray strands, wetting your already damp hair to help ease the cut hair off of your head. Then you moved on. You bound your breasts to your chest with some cloth, careful not to make it too tight, and thought to yourself this is like putting on a corset, except you're not trying to push your boobs up and instead press them closer to your body. You used a towel to dry your hair like your brother always did and went on to the rest of the clothing.
Your brother may have been differently proportioned, since he was male, but if he was female he would have been exactly like you. His clothing was only a tad too big, only a centimeter here and there, the clothes fitting you quite well, you had to admit. You put on the uniform of a student: white collared shirt and black dress pants, the black belt with white socks and black dress shoes. You grabbed his black tie, flipping up the collar and tying the cloth around your neck, skillfully getting the tie to sit against your bound chest while you popped the collar down. You slipped on his black suit coat, grabbed his circular glasses, but weren't big ass thick glasses like the new trainees have. Instead his were more rectangular, though he wasn't quite there to having thin senior glasses. Lastly you slipped on the black gloves, hiding the strange markings on your body, and looked to yourself in the mirror.
You looked exactly like your brother, the spitting image of him.
… Is it wrong to do this? Perhaps, but… you recall many times he wished you could have the same choices he has, live the life he has. This isn't wrong. You're accomplishing just that.
Besides… he wanted you to continue living. You should embrace this. This is your last testament to him, to become Alexander Byrne. You are your brother now… you are a man. You glanced down, deciding to stuff something between your pants, and then looked at the time. You had a few more moments before you had to leave… You can always quickly get dressed into some female clothes, but… no. No you won't do that. "No… I'm Alexander now. I should just accept this," you told yourself. You're killing off your female self to embrace your grim reaper self, but… is this right? You're still debating if Alex would want this, but… you might as well just go through with this. After all what can the council do if they realize you're a woman disguised as a man? Throw you in prison? Put you into a coma? Kill you? You smirked. Killing you would be best. End this long, boring life of yours. You hoped truly that they actually did that if they were ever to catch you this way.
)(*&^%$# !
You were surprised as you finally made your way to the cemetery how many reapers showed up to your brother's, or rather your funeral. Though you had to admit most of them showed up to be polite. They were students at the academy, a few teachers he must have been acquainted to, you guessed. However they were away from the actual reapers that were attending the funeral to grieve the loss of the girl named Lilliana, or rather Anna. You preferred Anna.
You must have touched more hearts than you realized. A few merchants and shop keepers you would say greetings to while you walked about town gathering groceries and other things, a couple of people you've helped, an owner of a book store you liked to go to, and probably will continue to go to, since the books are cheap and at a bargain price, and lastly the people you secretly begun to hang around, reapers your brother barely knew about. You got tired of living the life of a woman trapped in a house, only cooking and cleaning and being bored all day with nothing to do, and you found yourself embraced in a new culture, an underground culture the society wouldn't like to admit, but probably knew it was there since the council hasn't put a stop to it.
Your brother would be busy with school and over time drifted further away from actually going home. He would spend time at friends' apartments to study, perhaps other things he wouldn't want you to know, so you made a habit of leaving the apartment as well. You spent the day earning money as a waitress, of sorts, learning how to tend a bar as a bartender, and recently you actually began to dance for reapers for money, particularly men. You didn't have to strip, thank goodness, or even whore your body out to any one of them, but… it was a different change of pace, a lively change of pace, and certainly something you're going to miss doing. Your best friend was even here, a reaper older than yourself named Rosaline, who calls herself Rosa. She was weeping, her beautiful face strained with tears, her maroon rusty hair messy and covering her face. She wore all black with her signature red rose in her hair. She was everything you weren't, to be perfectly honest with yourself.
She showed you not only a way to earn your own money and become independent, but also an underground arena where you could fight other reapers. It didn't matter if they were male or female, there was no discrimination. You felt free when you fought… if it be hand-to-hand combat or sword/weapon fighting. The style and rules changed every night, but that's what made it thrilling and fun. There you could be yourself and actually do what you've felt like doing for years, be completely yourself without any boundaries. Sadly the arena was only open at night and by that time you were home, but if you knew that your brother would be out late you would go there, with Rosa, and while she didn't fight you certainly did. You had so much fun there… and now even that was over. You didn't want to turn Alexander into some fighting machine, like you had become. At least with that you did earn a little bit of money when people betted on you. It certainly wasn't much, but at least that way you felt like you were doing something with your life. You felt… whole.
However now you are Alexander Byrne. You didn't want to be Lilliana anymore. You threw that side of you away, discarded it, along with your brother's death.
"… I see that you're here, Mr. Byrne," you heard a voice from behind you and you turned to see the funeral director, Mr. Sullivan, in charge of maintaining the cemetery in the shinigami realm and making sure those that had died actually died. He was an old man with gray hair, a wrinkly face, hair slightly messy, but still slicked back, but he was another person you've come to talk to over the years and now the only one who knows you are actually a woman. You were surprised when he asked if you wanted him to put 'Lilliana' or 'Alexander' on the nameplate and you decided, uncertainly, with Lilliana. "… Would you like to do a eulogy or shall I?"
"I don't care," you spoke in a deeper tone of voice than you're used to, but then again your brother hadn't completely grown up. His voice wasn't the deepest it could become, but you acted as solemn as he would, know that over the years he's become more… serious. He's probably been influenced by everyone around him, however that sort of attitude will end soon enough, you hope.
Grim reapers, unlike humans and other living creatures, are spiritual creatures. When they die their bodies will dissolve into the air, their souls becoming released and continuing on through the afterlife. If they completed their personal missions or did all they could do they were sent onward into the land of the dead, where Father Death lived, as it's like to be called. If they did not their spirits end up in the library of their sect, lingering there until it is ready for them to pass on. The ghosts that guard the books within the library are also grim reapers, but now they have lost their free will and any real essence they once had. They become shells of their formal selves… but unless it is needed, most grim reapers are able to move on once they die.
However it's strange when a grim reaper dies suddenly. They don't die often and live for centuries at a time. You learned from Sullivan that the bodies, and souls, of the reaper linger for about a day. During that time he can examine the body and determine cause of death. You knew how Alexander died… but you wondered what the man actually said about it. After all he did lie in the forms that it was the twin Lilliana, not Alexander, who died, so he could have said other things. But the important thing is that you knew what happened. It didn't matter if others do. As long as they don't get in your way it'll be just fine.
)(*&^%$# !
"… Thank you for coming," you spoke in a soft, comforting tone. This isn't the first time you've acted like your brother and he you, but it's strange you have to act like him for the rest of your eternal life. "Your name is Rosaline, correct?"
"I-I… Yes I am. You're welcome," the lovely redheaded woman smiled to you happily, but then frowned as her eyes turned to the new engraving, your eyes glancing as well to the stone. Most of the reapers had left once the small funeral came to a close. After all Lilliana wasn't some big deal reaper and Alexander was just a trainee. You'd only been in this state of being for a few small years. That's not a lot of time, that's for sure, and you were surprised that anyone came at all. "… You're sister will be missed."
"Yes she will," you responded, putting your hands behind your back to keep yourself upright.
Only the names of left behind reapers that have passed away are placed all on the same stone, century after century. At the top it read '1600 – 1700' and then the names of each deceased reaper was engraved in stone, in commemoration that they had lived as grim reapers, continuing their miserable lives that they had cut short themselves, from humans into reapers. The date of their 'birth' wasn't written, but their death was. '1632 – Lilliana Byrne'. A fresh new name and a fresh new date, as well. Now that you look at the names, you realized a death of a grim reaper isn't that uncommon. Perhaps being so close to death itself causes one to die. Probably. That's just what you'll assume, you suppose.
"… She was quite fond of you Rosaline," you continued to say in a kind voice. She seemed shocked by your words, but smiled happily at the thought, though it was bitter sweet. "She… talked about you often, though not in detail."
"It's best not to know the details," she chuckled lightly, rubbing the stray tears from her face, and you were surprised to notice that her makeup wasn't at all smeared. How odd… Huh. "… May I be honest Mr. Alexander?"
"Call me… Xander," you decided to say, not wanting to butcher your brother's good name.
"Okay… I… actually loved your sister very much," Rosa confessed and you turned your head slowly, looking at her a tad shocked, "and I don't mean like a sibling either," she smiled to herself. "I truly loved her. She was such a sweet girl. Full of joy the moment she found something new, always reaching for impossible things… she was a great woman. I just wished I could have told her my feelings," she finished and let out a deep sad sigh.
However her breath hitched as you wrapped an arm around her, much like your brother would do with you, and you gently rubbed her shoulder, holding her to your side while the two of you continued to stare at the names of the dead. "… I think she heard you," you decided to say and you knew she was shocked, but you said nothing else, staring solemnly at the name. You'll live for your brother, that's what you'll do. You won't let this life go to waste… and you'll try to do your best, for Alex. It's the least you can do for him. It truly is.
"… May I speak to you, Mr. Byrne?" you heard a voice, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you let go of Rosa, not even giving her a second glance to notice that she was crying once again as you walked over to the man that called your name, a higher up you reckon.
You stared at him with a calm and curious gaze, your messy locks covering parts of your eyes that your glasses didn't hide as you glanced him over. He had long silver locks, a braid in his hair, and he wore a black trench coat, certainly a higher up. Only high ranking officials can tweak their uniforms and he must be one of those reapers. Perhaps a supervisor… maybe part of the management staff, you'd have to guess. Some low grade officers do change their outfits, but the majority of reapers keep the same uniform everyone else has, in their departments, and never branch out into their own styles unless they are out in a casual setting.
"I am sorry for your loss," he decided to say; your eyes glancing back at the stone slightly before pulling your eyes away. "… It must be hard to lose a sibling like this. I was shocked to hear that relatives actually arrived to our world in such a way, at the same time as well."
"We committed suicide at the same time," you told him in a bitter tone of voice, "because… it was easier that way."
"I see. Well," he continued, ignoring your statement, you noticed, "I heard you were also out the night of his death. You had shown up in your apartment room after the event, according to some of the attendants –"
"Why are you asking?" you snapped in a harsh tone. You don't care if he's a higher up. How dare he start asking questions without telling you why he's asking.
"I'm sorry," he smirked slightly, though he didn't seem to have any sympathy, but oddly amused by your snappy reaction. "I assumed you would know this, but perhaps no one has mentioned me. I am investigating the death of your younger sister, Lilliana. You see child, grim reapers don't die easily and so early in their existence. I am here to investigate the cause and see if there is any reason for our kind to be alarmed by the incident."
"… You could have just told me that you investigating and I would have been cooperative," you responded sharply, but then your harsh eyes smothered as you glanced away, your gloved hand going into your pocket as you began to stare up at the sky, noticing the sun was starting to go down as you did. "… You wonder if I was somehow involved."
"Yes," the man spoke, "or perhaps you noticed something that no one else could have, since you are so close."
"Hmm… I spent most of my time away from the apartment, for school purposes," you stated, simply, "so if my sister had troubles with anything she didn't inform me… However," you continued in a calm tone of voice, though your hands clutched at the mere thought of the true reason of your brother's death, "she did have… nightmares of our past life. Perhaps it came back to haunt us."
"Past life?" the man asked and you turned to him, staring at him darkly.
"You're investigating my sister's death and yet you don't know of our human past?"
"That stays classified unless it is truly needed to solve a case such as this, but even so most reapers never remember their past humans existences, except perhaps their deaths," he stated and while you knew this, after reading your brother's freshman textbook on the matter, you still weren't sure about that statement.
"… Well… that may be so… My sister and I did not remember our deaths, our lives in particular," you began softly as you glanced back to your name written in stone, "… however over time memories came back to us. I had my own and my sister had… oh so much more. I could remember happy memories like when my father took me to his office, but my sister… had nightmares. She could not sleep for days and when she did it was always a nightmare. However if she deprived herself of sleep for too long she'd daydream and go mad… I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want anyone else to know. She was my burden to bear… I'm responsible for whatever sort of death came to her," you spoke bitterly and he gave you a curious look, but you glanced back once you heard the familiar sounds of pen scratching against paper and you noticed he was writing in a book, a thick notebook actually. It wasn't a death list that all officers receive, changing every week to fit the to-die list that is always changing, but an actual notebook for taking notes. "… I don't know if she killed herself or if something from the past came back to kill her, but I know she was unstable," you sighed, looking away, "and I simply do not know what could have happened that night."
"Do you have an alibi for the night?"
"… No," you told him honestly. "I do not."
"I see… I'm sorry for questioning you at such a time, but I do regret your loss. It's never right for such a long lassie to die in such a way," he responded, as if he actually knew what happened.
You wondered if he actually did, but decided to leave the statement at that. You didn't want your disguise to fall so early. You still had so much time… you wanted to be free to become an officer and learn the ways of the soul reaping shinigamis. "… Before you go," you spoke, knowing he was going to take off soon enough, and you wondered why he hadn't already, "could you possibly tell me your name?"
"You don't know?" he chuckled in an amused tone, causing you to turn around, fully, and look at him seriously. "All little munchkins like yourself learn about the legends. You seriously do not know? –"
"I don't," you bluntly answered, glaring at him before shaking your head and turning away. "Don't tell me. Fine. I don't care –"
"The name is Adrian, Adrian Crevan," he spoke in a calm, yet kind sounding tone, "but I am known by most as Mr. Death. I don't go by Crevan anymore."
You looked at him curiously, watching as he seemed to be grinning widely, and you wondered if he was smirking because you were beginning to realize who he is or over the fact that you were still confused. Crevan… Crevan… Your eyes widened at a thought and his grin widened even further. "… Legendary Death. How can a mere reaper get such a title?"you snorted to yourself, a shock look appearing on his face and his grin dispersing slightly while you looked to him fully and couldn't help but let your own smirk appear on your face. "Don't get me wrong, sir. I've come to understand that legendaries are grim reapers that have accomplished much in their eternal lives and have made a name for themselves, sometimes forced upon them by others and other times it is a name they decide to call themselves. However calling just one reaper Death itself? That… is horribly strange. I'll admit that now," you told him and he smirked.
"You're an interesting lad, Mr. Byrne. I'll keep that in mind," he chuckled to himself, turning around and walking away. You noticed he walked like a shadow in the night, barely making a sound; in fact he made no sounds. As if he was hovering off of the ground or maybe he was a ghost… but either way it didn't matter. At least he couldn't see past your disguise, meaning you did it. You've become the embodiment of your brother!... Or mainly, mostly… you suppose.