(I'm just going to add a trigger warning for extended discussion of suicide in this chapter, to be on the safe side.)

I flipped through the rest of the notebook. Pages upon pages of words, all in neat black ink. Some were the same story, copied over and over again; others were entirely different stories. None were any longer than a page or two.

I had watched over humans who were obsessive types before. One spent hours at a time working on a house of cards; at the time of his death, it remained unfinished, taking up nearly the breadth of a room. Another pored over the same books again and again; accounts of true crime and brutal murders. Comparatively, this wasn't such a worrisome compulsion…but I couldn't exactly call it normal, either.

The story made no sense. In the grand scheme of things, wouldn't it be better if the girl killed herself? She wanted to kill someone. She got her wish. Only one person had to die, instead of two or three or…

I didn't care to think about it anymore. Twelve-year-olds write some stupid stuff. I flipped the notebook back to the first page I had read and went to sleep.

It was days later that I noticed.

Really, I'm not sure how I didn't see it sooner. He wasn't exactly hiding anything.

A boy near the back of the class stared at her. He cupped his chin in his hand, eyes trailing back and forth with the hand across the page. He looked away every once in a while—usually to take notes—and went right back to staring.

Hey, buddy. Watching her is my job.

He glanced up, through me, out the window. Then, he fixed his eyes on the back of her head.

"So? Did you read it?"

That night, Papyrus had decided to visit again. We sat cross-legged on the floor, a few feet from the bed.

"Yeah."

"Anything interesting?"

"Nope."

"Oh, come on! You're a Reaper; treat your job with just a little more respect!"

"So, you're saying I should…put a little more backbone into it?"

"BROTHER—"

"Ah, c'mon, bro. You didn't find it even a little humerus?"

He was silent for a moment. I turned to see him holding his face in his hands, suppressing a scream of rage.

"…Why must you always do this to me?"

I chuckled. "Couldn't resist. Anyway…"

I explained the story to him. He looked sad toward the end.

"So that's it, then? She kills herself? And all the children…none of their dreams come true?"

"Yeah. I mean, they wouldn't have come true anyway. She showed them that."

He looked down.

"I don't know, though. They were just kids. Maybe one day they'd be able to handle things like that. Their world isn't a very nice place—they all figure it out eventually. But…but by saying 'You can't do it,' she erased the possibility that they ever would."

"And the girl who wanted to be a killer? Do you really think someone like her should be allowed to do whatever she wants? I know you, Paps."

"…No. I don't. But…there had to be a better way. Cutting and incisions—they're the same thing, in the end. She could have been the surgeon."

It was quiet for a few minutes. Finally, I spoke.

"Don't worry about it so much. It was just a stupid story written by a twelve-year-old."

He nodded.

"Well…did you ever figure out her name?"

"Aster." I had paid attention to roll call that morning. A weird name suited a weird person like her.

"Isn't that one of their flowers?"

"Yup." I wrapped my hands around my scythe, trying to get my mind on anything but the human world's disgusting flowers. He noticed.

"Still don't like them? Every once in a while, you've got to stop and smell the roses!" He grimaced as he realized what he had done.

"They die when you touch them."

"Not if you don't get too close! And they smell so sweet…you should try it sometime."

I couldn't help but crack a smile. Someone like him isn't cut out to be a Reaper; he could have been an angel instead.

"Anyway…I found something else. There's this guy in her class who keeps watching her."

"Oh? Do you think he'll be the one to do her in?" We've both taken the souls of thousands of humans, and heard countless stories from other Reapers. After a while, a human's cause of death can be as predictable as the twist ending in a cheap paperback.

"Wouldn't doubt it." I laid back on the floor. Yes, it almost made sense…

But the way he phrased it when he sent me was definitely weird. 'Take her soul when the time is right'—as if I had some control over the circumstances of her death. Maybe if she were a cancer patient, I would.

But that was Papyrus's area of expertise; not mine. Surely if it were just that, he would have sent my brother instead.

"Well…" Papyrus stood. "If it's a murder, I'm sure you'll be able to take her soul easily enough. It's almost my turn for door guard, so…" The edges of his scarf started to fade and turn gray, but I could still hear his voice:

"Keep an eye on her. And try to learn his name too, all right?"

"Sayuri."

"Here."

Well. That was easy enough. Helen, Tianxiao, Michel…the others' names would probably fade from my memory soon, but I could at least remember those two for now.

There are billions of humans—we can't possibly remember them all. I'm lucky if I can remember the names of one or two souls I've reaped in the past. Usually, it's the stories I remember most readily when I care to think about it.

I hung in midair next to the boy. His short black hair matched dark eyes and slacks; a red barrette kept stray bangs out of his eyes. Once again, he watched her.

I glanced over his shoulder, into his notebook. He wasn't taking notes after all; a line of bunnies in skirts and overalls paraded across the header, tumbling toward the bottom of the page. How sickening.

Aster wasn't doing anything particularly interesting, either. She copied the same story over and over again. When she reached the end, she turned the page and repeated the process.

Finally, I settled into an empty desk in the back of the room. There couldn't possibly be anything else I could get from them right now—at least, nothing I couldn't figure out by reading their notebooks later.

I drifted into a light doze.

She left the room for a few minutes, and I flipped through the pages again.

Somewhere among the stars…

Somewhere among the stars…

Somewhere among the stars…

Because I could not stop for Death…

Emily Dickenson. Where did this kid get off?

I wondered, for a moment, if she knew how soon she would die. I heard stories like that every once in a while—stories of humans that felt peace or terror right before their lives ended. But her? I didn't know what was going through her head.

I stepped away from the desk as she entered again. As expected, she sat down, unzipping her pencil case to prepare for another night of obsessive writing.

She pulled out a box knife, sliding the edge of the blade over her wrist.

And there she sat, for fifteen minutes—the sheen of the blade against the pale skin. She looked over it, seeming more passive or bored than anything else.

A suicide. It made sense. Those who take their own lives usually try to do so quietly. They don't tell anyone. They just up and disappear one day. The ones that are willing to open up and tell others about it are the ones who are ready for help; it's the quiet ones you have to worry about.

She was the type with no connections. She was the type whose thoughts didn't leave her mouth, but bounced around the walls of her head.

As soon as the knife cut her wrist, as soon as the red color appeared against her monochrome form, I could take her soul. It was that simple—and it was probably all he wanted me to do, right?

…And yet.

At the moment, I didn't know what it was, or why I did it. Maybe the old woman managed to get to me. Maybe it was my brother. Maybe I even got attached to her, somehow.

Whatever it was…

I stepped forward, knocking the knife from her hands. It clattered to the floor.

She blinked. She looked down at the box cutter, and back to her shaking hands.

Without a word, she took out a pen and continued writing.

Notes/Manizu Chatter:

Wow…I didn't expect last chapter's story to get such a strong reception. Thank you, guys…

I've actually started a Wattpad (username is also Manizu), but I have yet to put anything up yet…Anyway, I'll be writing original stories there soon, so…I shall shamelessly plug myself! (I want to finish a couple of fics here first, though, along with giving myself a four-chapter buffer for my first novel there…)

I'm playing the "ambiguous setting" card to justify all the characters' names. It's not that weird, anyway. (It's also most certainly not because I got tired of researching names, nope…)

I already mentioned my muse for Aster's design, but when I think of Sayuri, I think of the boy from the Two Breaths Walking PV.