Disclamer: I own nothing all characters belong to their respective authors.
Spoilers for the Book of the Atlantic arc and more recent chapters of the Kuroshitsuji manga.
Search.
Find.
Collect.
Repeat.
Repeat.
And repeat.
And repeat.
Again and again, his existence had long since fallen into an endless cycle that never changed. Following always the same straight road guided by heavy chains that assured his compliance. Over and over the routine ended and started right from the beginning. Stealing from him nothing, granting him nothing. A never-ending monotone governed his days painting the world around him in shades of gray, taking away the color of what most would deem beautiful, joyful. Gray days blended into gray years just like the images he saw on the lives that passed by him, a dull life only left behind a dull record. Their beginnings and endings all seeming to twist and merge into one another to create an excruciatingly long, boring, and dreadfully dull film.
Dejected the lone man let out a sigh, so long had his so-called job lasted he no longer remembered how much time had passed since he began his eternal existence. A year, ten, a millennium or two there was no difference anymore, just like his body no longer changed, forever frozen in time, his work remained the same with no regard for the passing of time.
Desolate green eyes glanced at the paper that held his instructions in carefully drawn characters, an attempt of a nice gesture form his new supervisor since he'd just arrived in Japan a short while ago and hastily written notes would probably lead to him wasting time trying to decipher the radically different alphabet. His petition for a transfer was made with the vague hope that a drastic change in his surroundings might lessen the boredom of his repeating days, the transfer was granted and he'd been sent to a completely different country with a completely different culture, gotten to new people and learn the new subtle underlying rules.
To no avail.
Death is death. And human lives are human lives, be it in Europe or Asia things remained just the same. The same old pattern repeated itself with no end in sight.
His coworkers were just as dull as the ones he left behind in London, preoccupied only with either completing the jobs or slacking as much as they could. dull, and gray and utterly content with their unchanging existence.
Keeping the same slow pace despite the cold raindrops soaking his heavy black jacket and not bothering to cover the nicely written note from the water that ripped away the ink from the piece of parchment the tired man continued towards his destination.
It was a relatively easy assignment, someone who should've been dead wasn't and while management was trying to chalk it up to a mistake made by the newbie originally in charge of this zone thanks to several similar past occurrences in the last past couple decades plus the disappearance of at least two shinigamis in the area in the last century, he was now assigned to the territory as he kept an investigation, determine why and get the souls living in non allowed time. An easy mission, a predictable one.
Probably a demon if he had to guess. Japanese demons, youkais if he remembered correctly, were different from the common European hellspawn, and a good number of them didn't exactly need to consume the souls he was supposed to ferry but there were still some whose diet included what back home was a demon's ultimate delicacy. Different scenario, same act, same role, and after being here for what was probably only a couple of months but felt like years the excitement of seeing new variations of the beasts had long since lost its appeal, being sent to exterminate yet another soul hungry demon was just tiresome. The only real change had been the aesthetic of the places he went to and all too soon he'd become accustomed to them as well.
An annoyed grunt fought in vain to be heard against the loud sound of the falling rainstorm. His vision was quickly becoming distorted by the drops violently hitting the crystal of his relatively new glasses. All shinigamis suffered from poor eyesight so recently new glasses had been passed around to every active death god as part of the necessary uniform. They helped to improve his vision, no doubt about it, but constantly having to worry if they fell, broke, or got wet by a light drizzle was just plain annoying. Even now a simple storm was making his vision worse than it used to be without them. They were nothing but a waste of space and energy if they asked him.
Stubbornly the bored the man kept walking, even as his hands fumbled with his clothing to clean the bothersome seeing aid. He could vaguely distinguish the setting of his current retrieval already, a blood-soaked battlefield extended before his somewhat blurry view.
Placing the pieces of transparent glass in front of his eyes once more the death god took a better look at his surroundings, intent on taking advantage of the few seconds the blasted glasses would remain useful before getting wet and become useless yet again. The scene that greeted him wasn't all that different from the ones he'd seen back in the continent, blood covered the land, corpses laid haphazardly on the ground beginning to rot and soon enough animals and vultures would come attracted by the scent of easy food once the lone woman he could see at the far end of the battlefield, maybe a depressed lover or some persistent healer, kneeling over a body left. Once more a sigh escaped him. Typical old routine…
….or…not…
The urge to try and wipe his glasses once more in disbelief of what he was seeing was strong but the suddenly not-so-bored shinigami managed to resist it. No matter how soaked the stupid things got the bright pink light that had filled the clearing would've been impossible to miss, as was the strong, soothing, warm feeling that enveloped the place along with the abnormal shine.
In an instant he crossed the distance, standing only a few steps away from the definitely not typical woman the light came from. Her form tensed for all of a second before relaxing as if sensing his presence but deeming it not a threat, not even bothering to look up or move a single finger towards the worn-out bow in the floor beside her, a bow that didn't remotely fit with the soldiers' standard weapons scattered around the field.
A shrine maiden, his mind provided as he looked closer at her outfit. The clothes were old and ragged, the edges of her long sleeves and hakamas caked in blood and mud, but even in the miserable state her clothes were in, it was still easy to distinguish the washed over red and dirtied white of the traditional uniform this country priestesses wore. Vaguely he could even recall how bows and arrows were supposed to be their main weapon, his eyebrows rose in surprise, well, there was a bow, but try as he may he could see no quiver near her.
"Some of them still have enough spiritual power to be able to see" that's what his new supervisor had warned him against before assigning him to fieldwork 'there's even a few who can actually wield holy powers. They no longer hold neither the numbers nor the power level to be considered an actual threat but you should still try to steer clear from them, their shots won't kill you but you'll get a rather nasty burn and, well, those take a bit longer to heal."
He could feel the excitement build up slowly inside him. Taking a glance at the notebook within his hand it was easy to find the face and name of the man breathing steadily on the dirt within the list of deceased.
Well now, having the strength not only to heal the body of someone at death's door but to also be able to properly bind the soul to its vessel once more certainly talked about a power level that should've fallen into the actual-threat category no questions asked. There was also the little detail about the color of the light itself, from what he could remember no matter the religion holy energy always shared the same color, one that was most certainly not pink. Would an arrow from such a being really leave him with nothing but a bad burn or would she be able to kill even a death god?
Now that was thought, could so-called servant of the gods kill a god?
Would a god truly allow such a creature to exist?
No.
The answer should've been a clear and resounding no. And yet, as the lone woman with tangled raven hair methodically mused about the man who was supposed to be a corpse by now with clam movements the shinigami couldn't help but search for the previously hidden wells of power surely no human was meant to wield.
Amazing, he thought, unable to stop his feet to take him just a step closer to her, the result of his more careful examination showed something he'd never seen before, there's a barrier or seal of some kind that immediately hides her powers the very instant they are no longer being used. In fact, had I not seen her using them in the first place I doubt I could make the connection between the missing deaths and her. What in the world happened to give her this much power?
"Who are you?"
Soft, careful movements stopped, freezing momentarily before choosing to continue with the healthy, living man's inspection. Again, he tried.
"Do you know what I am?"
It wasn't surprising when silence was his only answer. He honestly doubted at this point the woman's focus could be broken by anything but a direct attack on her or her patient. Green eyes narrowed as his mind whirled with probable plans of actions, he knew protocol would ask for him to retrieve the required soul and eliminate any threat to the continuation of his job. Still, his body refused to move, he was too curious now, he wanted...no, needed to know more about her.
"Why bother helping him? He'll die in a few years anyway."
Finally, she turned towards him, deciding to acknowledge his presence. Slender fingers closing around the beaten bow but with so little strength worrying about it seemed moot. Her dirtied form rose to face him with the same slow and graceful quality to her movements as she showed when attending to the definitely not dead man.
His breath stopped.
Dulled over emerald orbs widened, a small light fighting to retake what it once owned, as boredom left his gaze in an instant in the face of the impossible being meeting his eyes. Because there, standing firmly the priestess, this still breathing shrine maiden was dead.
Oh her body was alive, that much was obvious, her soul still contained within but her spirit, the feelings that guide a person's life or any desire the woman could have once had was gone. Even those who no longer wanted to remain amongst the living had some form of a wish, as twisted and dark as it could be, their desire to die was always strong, the feelings of pain or loneliness influencing their every action, tainting their beings. This priestess though, she held none of this. No pain in her eyes, no wish for an ending, painless or otherwise, she seemed to simply exist, continuing on living, doing what the duty of a holy woman was supposed to be. Pure emptiness, that was all she had, this unknown shrine maiden was almost completely empty, only a faint sense of duty remained, one he could clearly see within those dull azure eyes just as clearly as he saw it within his own reflection.
His hand moved before he realized what he'd done, leaving a thin trail of bright crimson slipping down her pale cheek after the sharp blade of his materialized death scythe made contact with her skin. She didn't react, fragile fingers lazily closed around her unused weapon without even a sliver of tension. Either the woman, girl really considering she couldn't be older than 17, had recognized what he was and accepted whatever fate he would impose on her (not that likely considering the disappearance of the other shinigamis) or the priestess just did not consider him enough of a threat.
Most would probably be offended.
Lucky that he didn't care enough for his pride to be wounded. After all, the cut had been shallow and considerably small, made with no intent to claim her life, it would've been counterproductive to do so since right now his interest was being pulled in a different direction, one that required the girl to remain breathing.
Cursing as his vision became useless once again (the rain had made the supposed helpful tool a nuisance yet again), the death god took the damned glasses off, letting them fall to the floor. This time not even bothering to try and clean them, he'd done his job perfectly fine without them before, he could do it again now. Emerald eyes widened at what the sight, the cinematic record released by the small wound revealed, it just couldn't be…there was no way and yet…
What he saw was only a small portion of her film, a preview if you could even call it that, but those short images were more than enough to completely chain his interest. Impossible objects followed by fantastical situations, this was more, so much more than anyone could even begin to imagine. A strong feeling began to well up inside him, completely destroying the indifference that had all but drowned him until now. Something he couldn't quite identify rose through his throat exploding with a sound he hadn't expected.
Laughter.
A wild, loud, almost hysterical sound, roaring above the storm. His own laughter, how long had it been since the last time he did so? He'd actually forgotten how it sounded. He liked it. Looking back at the rain-drenched girl the silver-haired man could only smile, his once gray world now exploding with shades of azure and crimson that seemed to give life back to the decayed scenery around them. His smile only widened at the sight of her pale porcelain skin knitting itself back with a speed even a demon would envy. Injuries produced by death scythes were extremely difficult to heal after all.
"Kagome."
It was faint, barely even there, but something flickered within the placid oceans of her eyes at the lone word. Just as he thought, she wasn't completely empty yet. Silently, he wondered how long had it been since someone called her name, those idiots from management had somehow managed to miss her well overstayed welcome in this world for a long time now. It wouldn't stay the same though, thanks to the conflicts and hunger a lot of people were dying and her presence was starting to make that number decrease by a significant amount. Even if he kept quiet about her, the priestess would insist in changing the fates of those in the list(and she would continue, oh he knew she would persist in doing her so-called duties even if her very flesh began to rot) others were bound to find her and sooner or later someone competent would make it back with a proper report, the order to either retrieve or eliminate the abnormally powerful soul was sure to be issued then.
A smaller laugh left his lips as he took one more step in her direction, willfully ignoring the loud crack of his glasses under his feet. He'd grown tired of his job anyway and this wouldn't be the first time the idea of resigning crossed his mind during his long years.
"Kagome." He said again, enjoying the sound of her name falling from his lips, his hand extended towards her in an inviting manner. "Come with me, Kagome."
The sound of rain enveloped them for a second, then two, the girl's head tilted slightly to the side before the wet thump of her wooden bow hitting the ground filled his ears. Slowly pale, slender fingers reached towards him, sending a shiver down his spine when his hand finally closed around her petite limb.
They would need to leave the country, and fast. Leaving the whole continent would probably be the smartest choice here. Once he failed to report his findings back they would be after him like the hounds of hell itself whether they knew of the immortal priestess or not. For a couple of years or so the two would need to be on the run constantly and while confident in his own abilities the silver-haired man had no idea what the child in his hands was truly capable of or how much could she actually do in this doll-like state of hers other than the unnatural healing he'd witnessed.
The now, former death god laughed again.
A light giggle echoed across the relatively deserted ocean, the fact that a growing swarm of undead dolls kept trying to claw their way into the small haven the only two living beings were on only added to the insanity of the sound.
"Now, now, hehehe. This is just too perfect."
The only conscious living being for miles smiled proudly at his work of art. There, tied to a makeshift cross improvised from the broken wood of the rapidly sinking ship was a blond man in still surprisingly pristine white clothing. Not even bothering to stop the loud bout of laughter rising in his throat the silver-haired man gifted himself another couple of seconds to admire his current masterpiece and truly commit it to memory. From the way the silky strands of silvery blond hair danced in the wind, the manner the obnoxious fancy clothes were plastered on the other man's pale skin to how the whole thing looked wrinkled and stretched due to the unnatural posing of his arms. The memory of the unforgettable and priceless sights he'd been shown thanks to eccentric nobleman dangling in a mocking parody of a crucifix were of a special kind of high quality not often found. After all not anyone could manage to make the young Earl ridicule himself in public with such ease.
No, no, no.
Allowing this man to die would surely be a tragedy, a crime against the world eve.
Emerald eyes glinted manically as he imagined what sort of faces those two would make when they saw his improvised work of art. And they would see it, once the rescue party found the Viscount he had no doubt the London press would eat it up. Humans, whether now or five hundred years ago were all, still, the exact same kind of gossip-hungry animals. A giggle left his throat once again as he turned to leave, reaching down to carefully pick up the only thing of any sort of importance in the entire ship, he wanted to make his way back to the mainland with as much speed as he was capable of.
It was such a shame she had to be left behind during the trip, the girl would've surely smiled at the Viscount's ridiculous antics, in general, everything was just so much better when he had her around. Oh, he would need to show his little bird all she missed as soon as possible.
Plus if he lost too much time fooling around with the blond he risked giving the beast walking around in human form a chance to try and steal his perfect doll, his caged little bird, from him. Not that his doll would just passively allow herself to be taken just like that of course, but still the immortal being would really rather her to stay as clean and away from the tainted claws of the demonic butler as possible. Chained as he was by the binding contract, the former shinigami didn't trust him not to attempt to get her for himself as an added bonus to his main dish so to speak…or even to replace it entirely. His special little bird was an extinct kind of delicacy and no demon would pass the opportunity to steal her away.
He didn't even feel the pain as his free hand tightened into a fist, long black fingernails tearing his skin letting crimson drops to leave a bloody track behind him. Barely remembering to be careful with his other hand still closed around the finely crafted wooden coffin, not willing to risk damaging his precious cargo. The mere thought of someone else, something as vile as the make-believe butler, daring to touch her, to taint the purity she'd miraculously preserved amidst the rivers of blood the gods had selfishly drowned her in made his already unstable control slip just a bit more. The urge to cut and destroy the vile beast that reveled in humans impurity threatened to make him abandon the game he'd spent so much time preparing, completely disregarding all the effort both he and his doll had put into it.
No, the silver-haired man shook his head. No, no no, as frail and delicate as his little bird appeared she was anything but, even in the pathetically, beautiful, broken stage she'd been back when he first found her, his doll was more than capable of getting rid of whatever pest came near her without getting stained. Oh, the image she painted back then was truly magnificent, the pure energy swirling around her turning anything nonhuman to dust, leaving nothing behind as proof they ever existed, such clean deaths, such perfect deaths were something special in a way. Not to say the manner she got rid of pests now was anything less than gorgeous, her eyes lighting up with a unique shine as holy energy followed her every command to perfection.
Still, he'd rather not risk her being damaged, after all, the starving butler was not exactly a weakling either.
The change of his blurry surroundings didn't really register, focused as the former death god was in reaching his destination. The polluted smell of the city was by now a much too familiar scent for it to fully grab his attention, just like the repetitive comings and goings of the humans below him. With the path to their current home burned so strongly in his memory, there was no need for his attention to deviate from his thought either.
Later he wouldn't be able to tell if he actually opened the door to his funeral house with the proper keys or if he simply broke the handle in his haste to reach his doll. Probably the later considering when he got too excited his control often slipped, perhaps a bit too much (and often he was grateful for his caged bird's healing abilities as they saved him the time it would take to stick her back up) other than being careful with the specially made coffin as he placed it down on the entrance display he truly paid no attention at how he handled things. In all honesty, he really didn't care for whatever destruction he quite possibly left behind in his race to reach his most reassured possession. Nothing really mattered all that much once he caught the sight of her small form elegantly moving around the room he created specifically for her.
Strong arms rounded her slender waist, forcefully pulling her towards him and taking the young girl with him as he spun around the room. Not stopping to even listen to the sound of the expensive china shattering against the floor when the tea tray his little doll was carrying had fallen from her petite hands thanks to his impulsive actions.
"Ka-go-me-chan~!" He sung, still spinning wildly. "I'm back!"
A twisted form of contentment filled him as the girl within his arms made no movement to stop him, simply laying limp in his grasp, surrendering her everything to his whims. Long fingers caressed her hip where hidden beneath the beautifully crafted and constricting corset was the one mark that marred her otherwise perfect porcelain skin. The one scar her powers refused to heals the one that doomed her to her eternal fate. After spending full nights while his doll slept watching her full oh so interesting cinematic record he'd reached a single conclusion. There had never been any hope for her or any of the others within her ragtag group of shard hunters to succeed after the so-called sacred relic was ripped out of her body, let alone once it shattered and over half of the cursed amalgamation of souls ended up in the tainted hands of the corrupted spider halfbreed. His grip tightened to a painful degree around her as his smile widened a bit too much to be seen as friendly. He was so glad she'd been cut open.
"Undertaker."
Bright emerald eyes blinked when the soft voice of his little bird called him back to the present.
"Welcome back."
Looking down the former shinigami could see a soft smile adorning her face, one of the few real expressions she could create other than the pleasured gasps and moans his doll made whenever he took comfort on her body. Not, he reminded himself, that they had the time for that right now. It didn't matter really, they would have more than enough time once they settled into their new accommodations.
"We're leaving, hehehe!"
"Leaving? When?" Her head tilted slightly to the side, just like it did so many years ago. Though this time those oceanic eyes of hers were no longer a dull and lifeless void.
Again he giggled wildly. "Yup, yup. Right about now actually."
Greedily he took in her form as he finally let her out of his arms. Long gone were the tattered bloody clothes and greasy tangled hair. The Undertaker had taken special care of cleaning and combing her long raven locks and replacing the roughed up priestess attire for the most elegant and expensive designs he could find. After all, the more beautiful the doll the more intricate and delicate the clothing adorning her should be. Over the years he'd tried quite a number of styles never truly settling for one, though since the were trying to blend in, his impossible little bird ended up in the rather constricting corsets and flowing English gowns. Unlike his cheap but lasting clothes hers could probably be sold for a small fortune, the effort put into acquiring it was, however, more than worth it. The effect the elegant designs gave her was quite alluring.
'She looks like a doll.'
Those were the words the silver-haired man often heard ever since he began dressing her in European styles, it was a favorite compliment his breathing clients gave upon meeting her. He scoffed at that. So many times he'd heard it, it was almost an insult. Women described to be as beautiful as dolls were a dime a dozen, finding someone to fit that description wasn't all that hard if you knew where to look, or if you applied the right makeup and threw them in the proper clothes. But his Kagome, oh no, his little caged bird being called that was just offensive. Rather than a human woman who looked like a doll, he thought, she resembled more a doll that acted like a human, his little dove could certainly be taken apart just as easily. Of course, he'd fixed her every single time…to a degree at least.
"Is it the butler?" The soft question pierced through his tangled thoughts.
"It is," he answered "though right about now he should be stranded somewhere in the middle of the ocean along with its master, hehe. I sure hope he doesn't mind the cold water."
Emerald eyes narrowed at his doll's lack of response.
"He won't touch you, not even a strand of your hair." Firm fingers grasped her chin forcing her eyes to meet his. The beast made her uncomfortable, he was well aware but it couldn't be helped. Even after all these years, his little bird's soul was still that of the shrine maiden that relentlessly continued with her duty, everything in her called her to either flee or destroy the demonic being. With the hellish butler's choice on dinner though he was rather sure fleeing wouldn't be considered for even a second. "If he's so desperate to play with other people's toys he can take all of our defective prototypes."
Slowly the girl nodded her understanding.
"And the dolls?"
Allowing a small laugh at the blatant attempt to change the topic he answered letting his voice regain its usual playful tone. "Sinking all under the sea. They were all failures anyway."
Of course they were, while he'd never admit it out loud, especially in front of his treasured doll, he was well aware they were all modeled on a whim and after someone who still very much possessed a soul. No matter how much he perfected them those bizarre dolls would never be able to compare to the original. Good thing he cared not for that. He only came up with the idea after deciding to try and fix his little bird some years into their escape, to get her to a more autonomous state where he no longer had to worry about her failing to feed herself instead, letting the energy of the souls trapped within her to sustain her body. Admittedly the results of his current restoration work were but a rather pathetic shadow of what Kagome Higurashi had once been (he often wondered if she'd return to her original state were he to bring her back to her human family once time caught up to her...if she would break once again once her eternity ripped her away from them). Still, the former shinigami couldn't be more than pleased with the outcome, every single word spoken by her willingly had been, after all, it's own uphill battle. Then again that he found her as beautiful damaged as she was probably had something to do with the fact that his own sense of aesthetics was more than just a bit…odd.
With painstaking efforts, he'd managed to coax what little remained of her spirit back to the surface once more. It was a delicate work to choose how and when to start sparking that light into her. Living between humans meant that any person she could grow close to would inevitably be taken away from her once again.
He'd persevered though, carefully encouraging her to speak, to move on her own. The connection they both ended up forging with the Phantomhive family after he decided to finally return to London pushed her slowly growing autonomy bit by bit. A connection dear Vincent and Rachel enthusiastically promoted, both as enchanted by the enigmatic young-looking assistant to his funeral house as his children. Her recovery had sped up a fair bit after an accidental meeting with the twins, not really surprising, her record had shown him just how much fond of kids she was before breaking. Scheduled and unplanned visits to the manor just for the sake of letting her play with them were always welcomed by the former head of the dark noble family. Smiles and even laughter falling from her lips with more ease than he'd seen in a century.
That fire had almost ruined everything. Meeting with humans was always risky, no matter how long they lived sooner or later time would take them away from her, that was the reason he'd been wary of meeting with kids at first. Still, he'd never dreamed the Phantomhives would be torn from their grasp in such a sudden manner. Had he not managed to confirm the two missing bodies he feared his doll may have broken all over again. Months were spent in restless searches only to arrive a few minutes too late, barely in time to save the fresh corpse from the flames. It was then his pointless project gained importance, his perfect doll's abilities becoming vital in the restoration of the one body they cared about. With her attention fully focused on the process he'd managed to keep her own progress from crumbling down. Of course, even their combined efforts still struggled with the personality aspect of their little project but well, it was still a work in progress. Still a huge improvement over the batch of bizarre dolls freezing in the Atlantic though.
Now those were far too messy, unable to recognize friend from foe, they were the reason he'd been forced to leave his little bird behind. With the number of souls contained within her, they'd certainly go after her and while nothing so weak would be able to touch her he refused to risk the young Earl's pet around her when his hands were occupied with their precious project.
Such a pity.
"Why?"
"The whole ship sunk" he laughed again at the way her voice so easily brought him back to the present. "Broken in two by an iceberg of all things, kehehehehe. Something out of a comedic tragedy really. I'll show it all to you once we're settled in again."
Not waiting for an answer the man sprinted through the somewhat claustrophobic halls towards her bedroom dragging her with him. A wide smile plastered on his face at the sound of the high heels the priestess who refused to change her short skirt despite being back in feudal Japan would've never agreed to wear.
Truly, the girl was a work of art.
Long fingers closed tighter on the slender wrist between his fingers. Chances of ever finding something that resembled her were nigh impossible. There was no way he was letting her go, not to starved demons nor bumbling shinigamis.
After what felt like an eternity of nothing but mindless repetition the Undertaker would be damned if he lost the one thing that brought back the joy he never dared to hope for. Every one of his laughs and giggles was in one way or another connected to her. She was his inspiration.
Thanks to her he'd deserted the shinigami ranks, he'd seen the future and the past, she'd shown him the impossible, things no demon nor god would ever be capable of recreating. Hiding back in London and meeting the Phantomhives and all the entertainment derived from that would've never happened had he not deserted.
Even now it was the idea of her that brought his experiments to fruition and from there, any further enjoyment thanks to his bizarre dolls could be traced back to her. Though the demonic butler had been quite unexpected and from time to time absolutely maddening, the beast's reaction to her pure presence and the young lord's irritability after realizing his butler's abnormal interest in his darling little bird had also brought him high quality laughs. So he was not letting go. Not now, not ever.
A joyous feeling bubbled up within him exploding into loud laughter.
"Oh, this is going to be so much fun Ka-go-me-chan!"
AN: So, this ended up a bit darker than I'd originally intended but oh well. Honestly I feel most things related with the Undertakers backstory and his experiments qould end up quite dark.
I have a vague idea about another chapter from Kagome's perspective but nothing concrete just yet. I guess it would depend on if inspiration strikes or people wanna see it.
"Anyway, thanks for reading and any comment or constructive criticism is always welcome.
