Kuroshitsuji © Yana Toboso
OCs © reaper-of-lost-souls
A/N: Hey guys! Long time no see, right? Sorry about that. It's just that I haven't been into the Kuroshitsuji fandom for a while and I ran into a wall in this story… dark writer's blocks DX Anyways it's almost New Years and since I haven't posted a chapter in about two months I decided to post the next chapter I have written. There's only one more chapter that I've written, but I don't think I finished that one. Now I plan on bringing Raven back that much is certain, but first I want some Undertaker and Grell bonding moments beforehand. Do you guys have any ideas on the matter? Because it could REALLY help me with getting this story going again ^^Well I think that's it. ENJOY!
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Emerging from a bathroom Grell locked the door, letting out a tired sigh as he stared at himself in the mirror and frowned at the disgusting boy staring back at him. "Damn it. I have bags under my eyes," he huffed, looking around the room to see if there was anything he could use to fix himself up. Noticing a brush he combed out his hair, rummaging through the medicine cabinet and taking out bandages, gauze, and medical ointment for his wounds. Then he slipped off the clothes he was wearing, ever so slowly to see the damage that lay upon his soft boyish skin. He shuttered in disgust, noticing the large bandage that was wrapped tightly around his chest and wrapped around his shoulder. Luckily the wounds from the claws of the demons were almost healed, which made Grell wonder how long he was forced to be in that infirmary. Gently unwrapping the bandages he began to notice blood, wincing as he came to the last couple of layers and had to slowly pry the white bandages away from his skin. Then he let out a yelp, clutching his teeth as he pulled off the large cloth of gauze and stared at his wounds fully. He never knew a death scythe could do this to a shinigami, but the saying is true that there's nothing a death scythe can't cut, including reapers it seemed. Perhaps it was a good thing they weren't told that the scythes could do this to a shinigami. It would make many reapers fearful of being out in the field, that's for sure.
Finding a cloth he clogged the sink and filled it up with water, glad to see that there was plumbing connected to the bathroom. Dipping the cloth he began to clean his wounds, wincing as he touched his skin and attempted to scrap off the dried blood to see how terrible his wounds were from the scythe. What he saw made him frown. The wound was deep, which was why it was taking Grell long to heal. His shoulder had been stitched, though poorly it seemed, and his chest was left open, probably because of the blood. After all if there was all that blood that meant the doctors didn't even try to stitch his wounds. Did they want him to die? The first time he woke up they said something about tying him down again. Again~? Was his body reacting to them and trying to leave on its own? That theory sounded weird to Grell, but hey he's encountered even stranger things in his short lifetime. Now that he was in his right off mind he'll have to stitch up his wounds, but looking at the cabinet there wasn't anything he could use to stitch himself together. Sighing he resorted in placing the ointment on his wounds, hoping to find string soon so he could get himself back together. Even so the stitching on his shoulder looked strained, that's probably why they tried to tie him up. Gently placing the glaze on his chest and shoulder he wrapped himself with the bandages, knowing he shouldn't stress his body as he tied the end of the bandage and looked at himself in the mirror.
Even with all the work he had done he still looked horrible. His body was covered in scars, many more recent then not. Grell wondered how long it would take for his chest to heal, pressing a finger on his bandages and wincing at the pain. It probably wasn't a good thing that he was able to grip through the pain, but he's felt worse… Grell believed. When his arm was infected that was one of the worst wounds he ever had, so this was nothing! He sighed. He knew he'd have to confront his own kind sooner or later. After all he simply couldn't walk into the human realm. He would be killed instantly that way. Pressing his face close to the mirror he noticed something. His eyes weren't the normal shinigami green colors anymore. His eyes were slowly turning yellow, the tinge of color in his eyes staying only in the corners of the bottom part of his eyes. It seemed to be permanent, another sigh escaping his lips as he moved away from the mirror and scratched his head. "Great," he mumbled under his breath, "another thing for the others to taunt me about."
Deciding the best thing to do now was to find some decent clothes and then leave, Grell slowly opened the door of the bathroom and looked into the next room. He smirked, his sharp teeth glittering in the light of the bathroom till he flipped the switch and began to walk inside. He had found himself in someone's living quarters, the being gone and probably working overtime after the whole demon incident. Looking around the room he was amazed by the décor that was in the room, much larger than the average quarters for a shinigami. There was the bed, a desk lined with scattered papers, book shelves with both book and oddly enough jars filled with organs and other strange things Grell didn't quite know what those were, but surprisingly there was a personal kitchen area with a fridge, cabinets, and a stove/oven area for cooking food. He knew in an instant he was in a supervisor's quarters, perhaps even more than a simple manager. After all, the shinigami that lived there took time and energy to make the room exactly how he wanted it. The walls were painted in gray instead of white and there were various picture frames and other items that lined the room. Going to the closed closet next to the bed Grell opened the doors to see its contents, the boy's eyes widening at the clothes in front of him. "Undertaker," the boy realized, noticing the same sort of large coat hung up at the top of the closet. Looking on the ground of the closet was where he found what he was looking for, several different pairs of suits that seemed discarded and weren't used anymore. He grabbed one black suit pants and a white collared shirt, knowing in an instant that they'd be too big for him. Regardless Grell put on the clothes, letting out a tired sigh once he had the clothes on and shuffled towards a nearby mirror.
He tucked in the shirt and rolled up his sleeves, rolling the bottoms of the pants so he wouldn't trip on the cloth. He slipped on his shoes and noticed that he didn't look too bad in the clothing, but he needed a little something else to complete the ensemble. Smirking he shuffled around till he found something red, which was hard to find in that living quarters with only grays and dark colors around the room. It was a small ribbon that fit around his neck, Grell tying the ribbon into a bow and smirking at his attire in the mirror. It wasn't the best looking outfit, but it would have to do. He found a brush and combed through his hair again, grabbing a hair tie and tying back his hair into a ponytail. "Good enough," he huffed, rushing back into the bathroom and remembering to unplug the sink. He frowned as he watched the bloody water drain down the pipe, sighing to see his own blood disappear without a trace before walking into the main room and opening the door. He noticed that no one was around and gently closed the door behind him, hoping no one would catch him, especially that old geezer, and he'd have time to think to himself.
! #$%^&*()
Grell kept his head down, walking down the hallway as if he was just another adult. They didn't seem to notice him as they were all off to their own little errands for the day, the boy walking out the door only to find that the sky was getting cloudy. Typical England weather. One minute everything would be sunny and the next it would be cloudy. Of course Grell didn't even know how long he was stuck in the infirmary, but he thought it couldn't be too long. The boy had to be honest; he didn't want to go back. Mainly because the doctors would drug him and he didn't like being bound to the bed. He had so many questions running through his mind, but he was too tired to answer any of them right now. He only wanted to find his bag and be done with everything, walking down the road and looking at the devastation that lined the road. From where he was Grell could tell he was in the main buildings and it seemed that's where all the shinigamis were relocated to. No one wanted to be out on the streets and if they were it was for business reasons. No one was home; no one was around to torment him. Buildings and homes had been destroyed during the invasion, blood lining the walls of even the places that were still intact. The air was still strong with blood, mixes of demon and shinigami blood filled in the air. The boy couldn't help but smirk. He so loved the smell of blood in the morning.
The boy took his time to get to the primary school building, walking past the secondary school building and several other sites along the way. He noticed the building where he saw a child die, where he had killed the head demon. That's probably why the shinigamis bound him. Grell had lost the last portion of his memory after that point. All he had in his mind was revenge, but even as he killed the demon he didn't feel complete. He still felt empty, all his energy drained from him as he came to the school he was aiming for. Grell smirked, his bag left where he had laid it. He grabbed the bag and looked at its contents, letting out a relieved sigh to find that his stuff was all there, even his doll. "Anna…" he thought aloud, barely noticing that a tear was falling down his cheek till it dropped from his chin and hit his hand. Sniffling, he quickly wiped the tear away and slung the bag over his shoulder, looking up to notice that it was going to rain again. He didn't have time to get back to the main white buildings and the boy knew he shouldn't run around the realm in the rain because of his injuries. So Grell decided it would be best to stay under the shelter of the building, sitting down on the ground and watching as the storm began overhead. He smiled. Grell could remember the times he was with Anna and they would sit under the shade of a building, staring up at the sky as the storms began overhead.
Anna always loved to dance in the rain, letting the water drip down her face and make her all wet. Grell loved dancing in the rain too, but he mainly loved the color of blood more. In the back of his mind the boy knew he had a thrill ripping the demons apart and killing the disgusting creature that killed his sister, but the feeling frightened him. Were they right? Was he like them? Grell honestly didn't know, nor did he really care. He only felt numb, sad that Anna was truly never going to come back for him. Perhaps one day when he died, but not now. As the rain began to pour Grell didn't even notice that he was crying, water dripping down from above and hitting him every once in a while on the head. He couldn't help himself. He was so sad and very confused. Was he truly a Sutcliff? If so what did that entail? The demons were going through great lengths to get a hold of him and Grell didn't know why. Apparently he smelled like one, a Sutcliff, which made the boy confused. Just why did they want him? Could it be a reason why he was placed in the orphanage, to avoid harm? According to Anna that wasn't the case, but Grell wished it was. He wished he had a father, a mother, and siblings to call his own, but he never will. He knows that. Now that Anna is gone the boy knew the dream he had with her was completely gone, vanished from existence and will never be true in his lifetime. He sniffled, wiping a few tears as more replaced them and streamed down his face. He could never be truly happy, especially after feeling companionship and comfort from Anna. Before he didn't need anyone, but after Anna he's felt numb. Now everything was worse. He didn't have any more hopes or dreams… he was a lifeless shell of a cold shinigami. He truly had nothing to live for now… no goals to aim for or reasons to hope. He had no love, no family, and everyone hated or seemed to fear him. He was worthless, he was nothing, and the boy knew he will always be nothing… forever alone…
"Anna…" He sniffled, burying his head in between his knees. Grell wondered if there were cases of a reaper's heart ripping into two. The boy certainly felt it, clutching his chest as his quiet sobs began to echo in the abandoned building. He grabbed his doll and clutched it to his chest, wishing the doll was the real Anna and she could talk to him and make him feel better. He wanted to know everything, understand who she really was and how his father was like. Did she know her grandparents? What would his life be like with her family? Should he truly be afraid of himself? Should he cause others to be afraid of him? The boy sniffled, burying his head into the doll's chest. It didn't matter anyways, Grell realized. He just wanted to know what was going on –
"My, my~. What's the little shinigami boy doing out here, I wonder~?" Grell sniffled and looked up, the man's aura seeming unthreatening to him as he stared at the adult shinigami through saddened, bright shinigami green and yellow eyes.
"What do you want Undertaker?" the boy asked, the shinigami chuckling as he leaned against his large silver scythe and stared down at Grell with a devious grin on his face.
"Wondering where you ran off to. Did you know the infirmary is in an uproar after you left?" Undertaker smirked, "barmy fools." He finished with a quick mumble and snorted under his breath.
"I could care less," Grell huffed, burying his head back between his knees and began to shiver from the cold.
"Now~ you mustn't be so cold. Here this can warm you up," the man said, throwing a large jacket on Grell's shoulders and on the top of his head to avoid the raindrops that dripped down from the leaking roof. The boy looked at the Undertaker astonished, while the man simply shrugged and walked under the shelter of the building.
The man let out a sigh and sat down, his scythe dissolving between his fingertips as he kept a grin on his face and looked up to the sky. "Isn't the sky beautiful today?" Undertaker sighed happily, Grell looking over at him before glancing up at the sky.
"… Yeah," the boy thought aloud, "I-it's good."
"… Are you troubled?" the man decided to ask.
"No!" Grell snorted and growled at the man, but noticing a green gleam underneath the Undertaker's glasses the boy paused, sighing as he slumped back down and looked to his knees. "… Yes…"
"Would you like to talk?" Undertaker decided to ask, watching as the boy began to run his fingers through the doll's long red locks.
"… I don't think you can help," Grell let out a tried sigh, noticing how sleepy he was becoming. "I… don't even know what's wrong myself… and I don't want to talk about it."
"Fine," the man nodded, looking back up to the sky, "but just so you know, if you don't get stitched up soon you'll bleed out all over the floor. You don't want that, do you~?"
Grell looked down at his chest and noticed that the blood was seeping through the clothes he wore, looking up at the grinning man before shaking his head and letting out a huff. "The doctors didn't help. They just drugged me," he snorted, "and they didn't stitch my shoulder correctly. I'll just do it myself I guess… they never help me anyways."
"A child shouldn't worry about those matters except to get better," Undertaker huffed, "and to think they've been drugging you. I'm sorry for their manner to you young Sutcliff."
"Whatever," Grell shrugged, though he did find the apology flattering, even though the man probably couldn't do anything on the matter. "… How did you know I was here?"
"I heard you crying," Undertaker answered simply, causing Grell to frown, "but I was also here on a quick errand. There were a few papers I had to gather that were left behind."
"I thought you had more… enduring jobs then just being an errand boy," the boy snorted with a smirk on his face.
The Undertaker smirked back, interested on where this was going. "Well my boy, I do more than just run around acting as a high and mighty legendary shinigami. I also have work to do like everyone else and sometimes the work isn't as thrilling as others, but if someone doesn't do the little jobs then the work doesn't get done. Plus I didn't want to be around a bunch of overworked shinigamis who snap at any sound they hear. I needed a break."
"Wow," Grell thought aloud, "what's been going on?"
"The council ordered the barrier to the human realm to be strengthened. The children are being kept in the main buildings and are only allowed to leave if escorted by an adult. Everyone is sleeping in the buildings that haven't been affected by the demon invasion and schooling has commenced after two days since the problem," Undertaker explained, the boy blinking at him before he coughed in his sleeve. The man smirked, looking out at the broken playground and the road that led out of the courtyard. "You have been asleep for a couple of weeks and classes started last week in Building C. All orphans have been given homes and are required to live with their caretakers until the problem is under control. So give or take another few weeks, depending on what the council thinks."
"Oh," Grell sighed, "but if that's true… who am I paired with? What about Cirrus? W-what happened to her father?"
"He's in critical condition and I know he won't make it," Undertaker told the boy, Grell frowning at the new information. "Sadly the doctors won't let anyone into the infirmary and little Cirrus hasn't been able to see her father. The council doesn't want anyone to go in unless they have a signed document. They believe the shinigamis may know one thing or another and can't risk information being leaked out to the population."
"How many more days?" the boy asked.
"About four," Undertaker told the boy.
"… I don't care what the council says," Grell huffed, "I'll get Cirrus in to see her father." The man chuckled amusingly at the boy's sudden disregard of the rules, Grell looking up at Undertaker with a worried look on his face, "W-what are you going to make me do now?"
"Whatever you want," the man answered with a shrug.
"… Then I'm not going back to the infirmary," Grell said, "but… I don't even know who I'm supposed to stay with… I hope it's not someone who will hurt me."
"I doubt that," the Undertaker chuckled.
"So who?" Grell decided to ask.
"How about we go back to the buildings and I can tell you when we get to my office," Undertaker told the boy, standing up and offering a hand for Grell to grab. "I'll fix those wounds of yours and make you a pot of tea."
"But you're a legend!" Grell suddenly said, jumping to his own feet, but soon staggering to the wall and leaning for support. He let out a few soft pants, realizing the pain in his chest was a lot worse than he thought. The boy crouched down and gathered his things, but he had to use the wall for support. Against the boy's request Undertaker suddenly wrapped his arms around the boy, helping him to his feet before giving him a gentle pat on the back. "T-thank you –"
"Legend or not if you insist on not returning to the infirmary you'll need your wounds treated. Besides~ I'm an expert in the medical fields. I bet that's not something you've heard about me in those little text books of yours," the man winked, a chuckle escaping his throat as he rested an arm on the boy's back and began to usher him down the road. "Now come. The presence of demons still linger in the air," the Undertaker told him, Grell looking at the man uneasy before shaking his head and accepting the man's help.
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A/N: I forget to mention that I'll answer the comments you sent me earlier later in the day (since I'm writing this at 1am in the morning and need to get to bed =O) If you have any questions or comments don't be afraid to talk to me. And I hope you guys have a great New Years Day. You can think of this as a late Christmas gift or just another chapter. Whatever. Well I'll talk to you the next time I suppose. SEE YOU LATER!