Records

by Aizhen Aschenhimmel

A/N: Tenth...and how many months since my last update? Sorry about that! For all of those who took the time to read the stories and even left a review or two, a very big thanks to all of you! Your reviews help extend my lifespan :) Alright-o, on with the show!

Tenth Record

Claimed

"You're different."

Of course I am, he thought with a mental eye-roll. He sat down on a gloomy piece of wrought iron which was apparently a bench, arms folded and legs crossed. "Would you rather have me as an angst-ridden, groaning ghost?"

She smiled awkwardly. "Well, not really...but I'm surprised that you're different from the rest of...them." She sat down near him, vivid and alive, so unlike his grayish, semi-transparent self. He was sure that if they'll touch, they'll both feel nothing. "Care explaining?"

He shrugged, looking away. Well, how to say it? How to begin? Explaining it through and through - and he was sure she will make him explain it through and through - would make him confess things not even death made him comfortable of saying.

My one lifeline to sanity. You. The fact that you're not here with me to share this damnable existence as a resident of Nifleheim is enough relief to cover my sheer boredom. My annoying memories of you overcome any angst-filled regrets. I met you in my all-too-brief life and I'm pathetically content with it.

Besides, they sounded awfully unlike him.

"Why are you here anyway?" He grumbled, wanting to get rid of her as soon as possible. It was for the best. Nifleheim killed him; it will kill her too, sooner or later.

She looked indignant that he even asked. "For you, obviously. I came to see you." She studied him for a moment, red eyes narrowing. "And you're not happy that I'm here. I can see that."

He was unhappy even before she came. He was dead, he had accepted it, and he didn't like it. Who wouldn't? Nifleheim was a dreary place of gray skies and crooked architecture. Nifleheim was a gaggle of ghosts and hanging bridges that swayed over chasms that promised no bottom. Nifleheim wasn't her. Alright, stop. He died without any long rambling monologues for last thoughts, and he didn't want to start one now.

I'm not going to be selfish, he said to her, in his mind, where she wouldn't hear. "Khallian, my dear guild leader, I'm not happy you've become suicidal. Get out of here before the Lord of Death makes a barbecue out of you," he said aloud. "Or before you slip and fall from a cliff the way I did." Mentioning or even recalling his not-so-heroic death was a bit of a pain for him (especially for his pride), not that a three-hundred-feet plunge to the darkness wasn't a big amount of suffering. Making her go away was a pain too, but he tried not to dwell much on that (because the pain of dying was in the past, and won't grow worse, unlike the other pain).

"Saldy, I'm not that stupid to fall off a cliff," she said stubbornly, and his pride was whittled down to powder. "Besides, if I can walk in here, I can walk out again."

He snorted.

"Not that I liked going here anyway," she griped, more to herself. "They all said I was crazy, guild master or no. Your death's warning enough for us not to mess around with Nifleheim. Bunch of sissies. Heartless sissies. That's a very unkind way to view a guild mate's death."

"They're right," he answered casually, still not looking at her. It hurt a bit, but they were right, and he didn't want her to see the emotions he had denied so much when he was still alive. "You are crazy. Ever have something called self-preservation instinct? And I'm not Saldy." Go away. Let me mope in peace. Get a husband, have kids and pretend I'm happy for your sake because I won't be happy, I'll have waking nightmares of things that should've been if I haven't died so pathetically, and I'm not asking anyone to forgive me for being so bitter because this is the truth.

Stupid monologues. But it was the most selfish and honest thing he had ever admitted to himself. The sheer honesty of it butchered him inside.

"Will you ever learn to respect your guild master, Saldaren?" She complained over the low murmurs of the dead. "Especially when I went all the trouble just to see you again." She trailed off, suddenly losing her forcefulness. They fell silent.

"I didn't ask you to."

"I don't need your permission on that. I am your guild master. If I say I want to see you, I will see you."

"I'm dead."

Silence. The ghosts, the ones Claimed by Death, milled around them, oblivious, a sea of gray and overlapping semi-transparent bodies, moaning and groaning of past regrets.

"I just wanted to see you," she repeated dully, staring across the ghost-filled plaza, staring at a broken, stilted lamppost and not really seeing it. "Because you're not really gone if I can see you again, right?"

He kept silent.

"You know me," she went on tonelessly. "I hate losing. Losing stuff, losing battles, losing people..."

"There are hundreds of assassins out there," he offered, mustering enough courage to finally look at her. Stop it. Don't make it more difficult. What you're saying isn't true and you know it. "You can find a replacement for me soon enough. I'm not that special."

She turned to him as she extended a hand towards his chest, where a heart should've been. Her fingers simply went through him, as it should.

She smiled a bittersweet smile that ripped the heart out of him. "I wished you weren't that special. I really did."

A/N: This was waaaay more angsty in its original drafts. I thought of lightening up a bit...or did I? All reviews would be cherished :3