Lol. Hai guysss! I was told in many reviews that people really enjoyed this story. So much so that they want to kill me/eat my liver/ other organs/ and/or brutally maim me if I do not post fast enough. To which I say to them…
CALM THINE ASS DOWN! XD I love, love, LOVE the fact that you all love this story, and I love the fact that you guys leave reviews saying how much you like this story. However, *laughs* I do not need to be told that my liver will be eaten, body be maimed, or otherwise if I do not post, m'kay? So let's take a couple of deep breaths, and calmly proclaim our deep and undying love for Twilight, hey?
Please don't kill me.
I don't own Bleach or Kuroshitsuji, only Akri. And Angelina, Kessar, and …whatsherface? A cookie to whoever can name the last one! Bahahah!
"Are you ready?" Sebastian asked to the dark-haired teenager on his back. Akri merely frowned.
"Sure." But truth be told, he wasn't fond of piggy-backing on someone's back, much less a total and complete stranger. But he'd do anything to get his revenge, and so voiced nothing. The corners of the butler's mouth seemed to twitch upwards and he gazed down at the grey-haired boy in his arms.
"Young Master?"
"Fine. Let's just get on with it. I'm hungry."
"Yes, my lord." The servant paused, and Akri could feel a certain tension building in the air. "Please close your eyes, and do not, I repeat, do not open them until I count to ten, understood? Now!"
The demi-demon squeezed his eyes shut, as ordered and tightened his grip. A shiver shot down his spine. "One."
It suddenly felt like they were flying through the sky, or perhaps stuck in a wind tunnel. Akri felt weightless, and he was almost tempted to let go, but his iron-fisted grasp held firm. He could pick up faint sounds, but couldn't quite distinguish them. It sounded like a high-pitched drone of a fly.
"Two." The droning had turned into moaning, a sound that was indeed audible to his ears. It sounded like whoever was doing it was doing so under slow, long-lasting pain, the kind that caused one to wish they were dead. It was accompanied by the sharp smell of brimstone.
"Three." The moaning had gotten worse, and now the wails were beginning to be heard. It was the sound of panic, of fear that plunged its knife into people's guts and wrenched it in their innards. No matter what Akri could do, he couldn't keep the noise out of his head.
"Four." Now screams rose in higher and higher frequencies as whatever was causing them pain had suddenly increased. This was the noise of being burned alive. Akri's grip tightened and he buried his face into the butler's back, trying not to vomit.
"Five." The temperature suddenly dropped, as well as the sound level, and it was silent. The demi-demon began to shiver, attempting to stave off the gnawing fear he felt in his heart. The rotting of flesh soon became apparent, and he had to use all his willpower to focus on the scent of the man before him. The longer he focused on that scent, the more he felt safe, almost at home, like his father was holding him in his arms.
"Six." It started to become warmer, and again the noise picked up, but Akri did not seem to mind so much. He had found something familiar about the musky scent of the servant. He thought that he'd smelled it before. He was sure he had. But the memory shimmered briefly at the forefront of his thoughts before flirtatiously diving back down.
"Seven." It was more peaceful now, compared to the other 'seconds' that he had gone into. Though the tormented wailing still continued, it seemed a mere whine in his ears, now that his attention was fully grasped on the man before him. Slowly, the pieces of his shattered memory were slowly coming back.
"Eight." It was nighttime in the Shoten, not quite dawn, but past midnight. Akri, suddenly a young boy again, shivered as a cold breeze swept across his covers. The curtains that framed his open window danced with the wind. There was a sharp creak, and soft thumps, as if something climbed through the window.
"Nine." There was a louder thud as whatever it was landed, although the noise itself was still whisper-thin. There was a temporary shadow thrown over him, but it quickly disappeared once he stirred a little more. Then the presence was at his side, heavier now. A voice began to whisper sweet nothings into his ear, rising and falling with musical notes.
"Ten." The abrupt motion stopped, slamming the forehead of the still-daydreaming Akri into the back of Sebastian's skull. The teenager snapped his eyes open and fell backwards onto his rear, having enough sense to let go before he dragged the servant down with him. The dark-haired man deposited the noble onto his feet before rubbing the back of his head.
"Young Master, Akri, we have arrived."
Akri leapt to his feet and sprinted to the mouth of the dark alley, forcing his head out. Woah. He had never seen this many people before. The cobble-stone streets were practically overflowing with lords dressed in fancy coats and ladies in rich-colored dresses, and the common folk in their working earth-toned clothing. But it was quite obvious that he wasn't in Karakura anymore.
"Welcome to London." Sebastian voiced in a cool tone, coming to stand by the boy's side. "Although it is a bit different from your "London", I hope you shall find it suitable."
But the amber eyes were already pleased. Of course he had read about this "type" of London. And then it all clicked. Of course. This was a kind of Victorian Era London, based on the fashion of clothing, but it seemed too modern to be in the past, as some children ran by with what appeared to be GameBoys. An alternate reality. Kisuke would have given his arm to fiddle around here for a week.
Akri's eyes brushed against the servant's. "I am rather impressed."
"And at this time, I would suggest going to see the Master's acquaintance, however you would stick out like a sore thumb with attire like yours."
Akri paused to look down. He was still in his black-printed Shoten tee, bloody-kneed jeans and sandals with his backpack firmly strapped to his shoulders. Certainly not Victorian Era garb. "Ah."
"Sebastian, I think you know what to do." Ciel snapped, suddenly appearing behind them. His nose was held high, even if it was wrinkled. The servant bowed in response. "Yes, my Lord. Please be patient. I shall return momentarily."
And momentarily he did return, a small package of clothes tucked under one arm like a football player might hold a football. Sebastian gave a curt bow before handing the parcel to the teen. Akri unwrapped it with excess vigor, wondering what type of clothes he would be allowed to walk around the streets in. Out came a plain white button-up shirt, a rough dark blue jacket, dark colored breeches, old shoes and an empty satchel. Well, it could have been worse.
"Beg your pardon, but as the Master has few servants, I had to give you the cook's extra clothes. I had hoped they would fit you, as you are the same body type."
The dark-skinned boy simple shrugged. Anything to get his family back. He wandered deeper into the alley, and came back dressed like a servant, with all his extra clothes in the side bag. He wondered if there was anything that should be done with his hair, but decided to just let it be. He brushed a strand of hair from his eyes before shoving his hands into his pockets with a nonchalant air.
"So where is this acquaintance?" He purred very much like a cat. The sooner the better. Sebastian gave a predator's smile as he examined the boy before him.
"Those seem to fit rather well. And I was going based on a hunch."
"Sebastian, stop dilly-dallying. I want to get home in time for lunch." Ciel snapped, arms folded over his expensive attire. The servant's eyes glittered over a smirk.
"As you wish, my lord. Mr. Akri, follow closely, as it would be horrible to lose you."
The demi-demon just raised a brow but followed closely through the crowded streets of London. Once or twice he had almost gotten hopelessly lost, but was saved in the nick of time with help from his sharp nose. Oh how he loved his heritage sometimes. As the party came to a stop in front of a dusty old shop with a giant wooden banner saying "Undertaker", Akri couldn't keep his silence any longer.
"Your acquaintance is an undertaker…?" He wondered, tone incredulous. It almost made him laugh. He was expecting a librarian, or something, not someone who made a living burying people.
The teenager beside him opened his mouth to say something, probably rude, but the butler stopped him just in time. "Yes. Now, I do believe we should enter."
The raven-haired boy just shrugged but followed his guides into the rather dark insides of the coffin-shop. His eyes adjusted to the gloom rather quickly, and he was quickly lost in the many jars in which body parts floated. There was an eyeball in what looked like a jar of pickle juice, and a heart floated in purple goop. Despite being rather morbid, Akri took quite a liking to them. In fact, he was about to touch a jar containing a floating kidney when a thick, raspy voice seemed to fill the room and drill into his skull.
"I…would not touch that, if I were you…" There was an odd sort of creaking and a pair of glowing green eyes and five spindly, spider-like fingers with large claws peeked from a coffin lid. Goosebumps spread across the demi-demon's skin like wildfire. The lid slid open more, revealing a scarred face, a mane of silver hair, and a creepy smile.
"Well, well, well. What have we here, hmm? Milord, the master butler, and who is this?" The black-cloaked man asked, looking to each in turn. His gaze lingered on Akri, which the boy returned with a cold stare of tiger's eye.
"This is Akri, Undertaker. He's a friend looking for information."
"OooH! Is that right? He seems like a feisty one!" Undertaker gave a hooting laugh before hopping atop one of his caskets and procuring an urn stuffed to the brim with bone-shaped cookies.
"Biscuit, young Akri?"
The dark-skinned teen gave the undertaker a thorough eye-scouring before accepting the treat. Ignoring the shocked looks from the others, he bit into it and chewed it slowly. It wasn't all that bad. Though it was stale and tasted somewhat like sawdust. Akri swallowed and opened his mouth.
"Do you know anything about the events surrounding my father's hospitalization and mother's disappearance?"
To his surprise, the ancient-looking man cocked his head and a foxlike grin spread to his features. "Of coouuuuuuurse I do, hee hee!"
"Then you'll tell me?"
"Hee hee! Nope!" Undertaker chuckled, popping the "p" and sticking another biscuit in his mouth. "I don't work for free, you know."
Akri froze and took a step back. He didn't usually carry money around with him, but dug into his pockets anyway and pulled out a 1000 yen bill, and a few coins in kan. "This is all I have, si-"
"Fool!" The demi-demon stiffened and clenched his fists for a fight as Undertaker lunged toward him and snatched him by the shoulders. His nails dug into Akri's shoulder. Normally, the teen wouldn't have been afraid of this person, but his voice and tone had drastically changed. "I want none of the Queen's money! Nor any payment of coin!"
"Then what do you want, then?" Akri hissed as politely as he could, still prepared for a fight. He'd gladly beat his answers out of the silver-haired man if it meant getting his family back. To his surprise, the undertaker backed away, laughing, drooling, and hugging himself. Akri raised a brow and shot a helpless look towards his British friends.
"I…I must have that! That! Bestow upon me the choicest laughter!"
"Um, what?" The young Michaelis asked, just to make sure he had heard things right. "You…want me to say something funny..?" To be honest, he was expecting to have to donate a kidney, or lung or something. But laughter…?
"Mmhmm." Undertaker stopped swaying back and forth and stared at the teen expectantly.
"Uh…" Well, he had done plenty of accidentally funny things, but not anything on purpose, and especially not in front of an audience. Plus, he didn't really have any knee-slapping jokes. But there was no use in not trying Kisuke's favorite. "Um…What do you call something with purple-polka dots, six hundred legs, and four heads?"
"What?"
"I have no idea."
The response was rather disappointing, and Undertaker crossed his arms and sighed. "That joke was one of the worst I've heard. But, since you're new, I'll cut you a deal. I'll give you one more chance."
So, guys! Do you have any good jokes that'll make the Undertaker laugh? The winning joke gets in the next chapter (props are allowed)! There is a fifteen-day deadline, so make it snappy! To enter the joke contest, please post a joke in the reviews section! The contest closes June, 18, 2012. Remember, the funniest joke gets in, and as a prize, I'll put a request in the next chapter. It can be anything from fan service, to Sebastian sitting on a whoopee cushion.
Requests can go as follows:
MyNameIsBob: Hey, write about how Yoruichi and Sebastian first met!
FanService_no_Jutsu: I want some lemon!
((Please note that I have no idea what lemon is, but I expect that it has nothing to do with citrus.))
Rules: Send me a review with a joke and a request before the 18th.
Mkay? That's all. Now, try not to kill eachother…