A/N: I felt bad about not posting a chapter in so long, so here's two in three days. Yay. :3 This is sort of a special edition chapter and'd probably be an OVA if it was animated. Why? This is a flashback chapter~! In it we get to see younger Chastity and Ronnie meet for the first time...which really, REALLY does not go well. Funny little chapter with an extremely awkward little ending. XD This chapter is kind of a mix between the first episode of Ouran High School Host Club and the one where Tamaki meets Haruhi's dad. Or, to me, anyway. XD So. Sit back, relax, enjoy, and review, and I'll get the next chapter up ASAP!
Chapter 9 (Or 0)- That Reaper, First Impressions
"So, um…how old is he?"
"Your age."
"Oh! Good, that's a relief."
"Yes. He's young, so he's loud and reckless. Like you."
"Great. I was sta- …HEY. THAT'S CRUEL."
"What? I'm only relaying facts. Don't worry. You two should get along just fine."
"…Hmph."
Sunlight danced in through the crystal glass windows on blindingly bright beams, clouds cotton wisps in the soft sapphire sky. Birds flitted around, trilling their soft songs. The pleasantly warm breeze swept through the morning air, prodding at spring green leaves twirling like ballerinas on their spindly branch stages. It was the beautiful, tranquil, almost spellbindingly magical scene straight from a fairytale.
Complete with grim reapers inside.
I yawned and stretched, rolling up the sleeves on my white dress shirt to just below my elbows, exposing my forearms. I was giddy with excitement, but painfully tired from the night before, when I had to stay up until sometime around 2:57 a.m. doing all the bloody paperwork needed to do this in the first place.
I fiddled with my glasses. They were brand spanking new- I had only earned them two days ago. Upon my completion of exams, I shed the stupid, boring thin-rimmed oval-shaped rookie spectacles for custom ones, which I had fallen in love with. They had huge, square lenses outlined thickly in black that rested delicately on my nose, unlike the student ones which kept falling off my face. The thing I loved most about them was the very, very subtle iridescent shimmer speckled onto the sides. You could really only see them when you happened to catch me flick my head in bright light, but I adored it. Lawrence Anderson had outdone himself.
As for my scythe, I was sick of the idiotic 'Safety Sickles'- as they were called-, tiny little sickles that were the only scythes newbies were allowed to use until they passes the exams. They were incredibly inefficient, only able to reap and collect one soul at a time- which they took FOREVER to do- and not to mention they didn't have very good control, so sometimes the cinematic records could spiral out of control. So, I had began working on a new design to modify mine- if I could get permission. Or even if I couldn't, I really didn't care.
Even though I was what was called a 'graduate' (even though you didn't really graduate anything- it just means you passed the tests), I was assigned personal apprentice to William T. Spears, a strict, emotionless man who seemed to hate me as soon as he laid eyes on me. But whatever. Maybe he'd loosen up over time. I knew someday he'd like me. Everyone does, after all. Hehe.
And now for the next stage of being a graduate. In other words: Hell yes.
My eyes wide, I trotted behind William like a tiny dog right on it's mater's heels. We walked a long, gleaming silver hallway that bounced our every footstep to echo back to us. The corridor spread into a huge, square, sterile room, sterling-plated like the rest of the library. I had never been in this part of the building before, which only added to my excitement and eagerness. William nodded towards the doorway, signaling for me to enter. I obeyed, practically bouncing in and waiting patiently in the corner. I had to put on my best behavior- I wanted to make a good first impression, after all. William, scrawling out various reports, business notes and the like out on his handy-dandy clipboard, stood next to me, too absorbed in his work to even say anything.
This was it. This was where I was going to meet him.
My partner.
I placed one hand in the other, twisting it nervously, a thousand thoughts racing through my head. What is he doesn't like me? Is he a total jerk? Will I annoy him? Does he like coffee, too? Dear God, he better… And still he didn't show. The minutes dragged for hours on end. And the hours stretched into eternity. I couldn't take this damned torture anymore. Quickly spinning to face William, I let out a whimper and shook his shoulders furiously. "How long have we been waiting?"
Not even bothering to look up, he simply replied, "Two minutes."
I groaned, breaking my good girl act to show how annoyed I was. "What's taking them so long?" I whined.
"Patience."
I leaned back against the wall, sighing and folding my arms. It occurred to me that I knew nothing about this guy- all I knew was he was my age. Heck, I didn't even know his name. William had told me once, but he mentioned it so quickly, briefly, and right afterwards switched to another topic, I forgot it. (The fact I had a memory of a goldfish didn't help.) "Will? What's his name again?"
He looked up. "I told you."
"I forgot."
He sighed disapprovingly. "Figures…his name is R-"
"I'm here! I'm here. I'mhereI'mhereI'mhere. Sorry we're late, boss- someone ran out of bloody LIPSTICK and threw a freaking fit."
A haughty hmph. "That's no way to talk to your higher-up! Lipstick is an essential element of a woman's beauty. I refuse to be seen without it!"
"Yeah, but- priority wise speaking- was scavenging the entire freaking General Affairs department until you could find some really necessary? Why didn't you just use the first tube of it you found?"
"Wrong color of red. NOT my shade."
In burst the flamboyant, gender-confused reaper, tossing a long lock of crimson hair behind his shoulder with a graceful flick of his hand, the scarlet coat hanging off his elbows swishing with the movement. His flaming red stilettos clicked against the floor. He grinned at us with a mouth full of small, teeth-like daggers. The man had always been- and still was- a head-turner, but for once, my attention was glued to the boy he was towing behind him.
He had messy marigold hair swept to the side in a flyaway style with a night-black underside and a curved cowlick that stuck into the air. He wore thick, rounded upside down pentagon shaped glasses in front of the standard sonic green eyes. He donned a full suit, the only thing differing from the norm was a strange silver band on his wrist which looked almost like a pocket watch and a pair of snowy white Oxfords on his feet instead of the uncomfortable black dress shoes that came by default with the suit.
So this was him?
With William letting out a low and irritated "Finally," quietly behind me, the teen looked up and gave me a warm, kind, winning smile, breaking free of Grell's grasp to walk over and offer me a black-gloved hand to shake. "Hi!"
Seemed nice enough. I smiled, clasping my hand into his and moving it up and down. "Hi."
"You C. Kingsley?"
"That's me."
He beamed. "Nice to meet you. I'm your new partner, Ronald Knox."
Ronald Knox. That name sounded really, really familiar… "Oh! Yes, hi. I've heard girls talk about you lots."
He gave a very satisfied smirk, closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall, tucking his hands behind his head. "Yeah."
"They're all over you."
"Yeah."
"They think you're simply breath-taking and swoon-worthy."
"Yeah."
"I think you're a playboy."
"Yeah- wait, WHAT?" His eyes snapped open. He shook his hands and head like a madman. "N-no! I'm not a playboy! I'm a nice guy, I swear!" he replied frantically, waving his arms around.
I raised a skeptical, unbelieving eyebrow. "Mm-hm."
"What?"
"I heard them saying you're a fantastic kisser and a great first. All thirty seven of them."
His face turned a redder shade than Grell's hair. And in turn said reaper burst out laughing. I rolled my eyes and William simply looked annoyed (but I was beginning to ponder when he didn't).
I sighed. Great. I was stuck with the ladies man.
"So," I muttered, irritated and leaning back, completely unimpressed. "Tell me more about yourself other than girls, Blondie."
Still blushing furiously and flustered-looking, he raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "Well," he began, sounding relieved to change the subject. "I was a Class A student and graduated with a 3.9 GPA. I've always been interested in the actual process of reaping itself, which is why I signed up for this department. My favorite color yellow, and my favorite saying is 'To die'. I'm working on modifying my scythe to an original design of mine called a Motorized Automated Lawn Trimmer, called a MALT or lawnmower for short, but I personally think lawnmower is catchier. Grell Sutcliff is my mentor. I was-"
"That's nice," I replied, thoroughly bored. Nothing better than a playboy supergenius.
"What? Well, tell me about yourself."
I looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Not much to tell…practical technique is my specialty-" (which sounds a lot better than saying it was the only class I got higher than a D in) "-and I'm working on modifying my scythe. I'm stuck with Mr. Killjoy over there as my mentor…"
"Don't call me that," he growled under his breath, still not looking up.
"…and my favorite color is purple," I concluded. "And there ya have it. Me in a nutshell."
"You got a girlfriend?"
"Wha- EXCUSE ME?" I had barely known the guy for three minutes and he was already labeling me a lesbian?
Ronald's eyes widen, fear that he offended me glinting in them. "O-oh! Sorry. Are you…um…into guys…?" He fidgeted awkwardly.
I stared at him. "Um, yeah, what did you think?"
"Nothing! Nothing, sorry. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that. I totally respect that. I have a few friends who like guys and they're wonderful people."
My feelings in four symbols: …? "…Kay…" I looked quickly over my shoulder. Grell and William were on the opposite side of the room so I couldn't make out what they were saying, but I saw Grell smile seductively and flirtily trail his fingers over his chest, to which William responded by grabbing a fistful of his hair and slamming his face into the floor. I glanced back at Ronald. "You're talking like it's an awkward topic."
"I-I…am?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yes. You're such a big flirt, I thought this'd be the most comfortable subject in the world for you."
Ronald was blushing again. "Well…I mean…it…it might get, y'know, a LITTLE awkward if you start to like me…butit'stotallyfine!" he added quickly.
This guy had such an ego he just automatically assumed I was going to fancy him? Who did this jerk think he was? "Who said I was going to develop feelings for you, Blondie? I'm not one of the brainless chicks you're used to wooing, bub!" I spat.
"Alright, alright, geez." He held up his hands defensively. "Calm yourself, man."
I huffed and folded my arms. "Whatever, Blondie."
"Are you just gonna call me that from now on?"
"Probably," I replied, absentmindedly picking at my fingernails. "Anything else I need to know?"
Ronald tipped his head in through. "Uh…not off the top of my head…you can look at my résumé, if you want. I have it right here with me."
I shrugged in a sure-why-not fashion.
Ronald reached inside his jacket, producing a small white slip of folded paper and extending his arm to hold it out to me. I reached to grab it, but a breeze rolled in through the window, pushing it out of his grip and sending it fluttering to the ground.
"…Crap. Sorry." Ronald bent down to pick it up and I nodded, closing my eyes in a yawn.
I opened them again. "Got it?" I looked down.
Ronald's mouth was gapingly open in shock. He had stopped about mid-crouch…exactly eye level with my chest.
Instantly, my face flushed crimson with anger and mortification. I took a step back, tightly folding my arms across my chest. "O-oi!" I yelled angrily. "My eyes are up here, you damn pervert!"
His eyes were wide. "D-dude…you…you have…" He was even redder than I was. He looked up at me and swallowed hard, obviously exceedingly uncomfortable. "D-dude?"
"Dammit, WHAT?"
"W…what's your first name?"
"Chastity, moron!"
He looked like someone had just slapped him. "Th-that's a chick's name!"
I scowled. "Well, DUH."
"YOU'RE A GIRL?"
"YOU DIDN'T KNOW THAT?"
Name: Ronald Knox. Gender: Male. Scythe: Lawnmower. First impression: …
…He's an idiot.
