"I think we should split up." William voiced his thoughts outloud while glancing back at Undertaker. The two of them walked into the spacious hall, their black clothes standing out against the light scenery. Neither of them marveled at the decor, having seen it all one too many times. "You can check out Grell's record, the Reaper one. Maybe even look for his human one, if there are any remants of it, though I doubt there is anything left."
"And what are you going to do? " The elder Reaper wore his same smile, as though he found something hilarious. It unnerved Will.
"I'm going to the 'general' part of the library, where basic information is held. I'm going to see if there is any information on his condition-"
"She. And she will pull through." Undertaker interruptted, his voice strong and clear. He found it irritating when people referred to Grell as a 'he', albeit he did it sometimes to. But now that Grell was no longer by his side to correct him, he took it upon himself to 'defend his woman's honor', as one might put it.
William nodded slowly, trying to convince himself. He wished he had Undertaker's enthusiasm, his willpower. Even if he was crazy, at least he seemed...normal. Or at least what was normal for the older man.
Undertaker looked at his reflection on a marble pillar. Blurry, but still there. Unbeknownst to William, he wasn't quite... himself. Some flare in his life left, undoubtedly because of the red-headed reaper. He remembered seeing Grell on the ground, thinking maybe he- she was just having a fainting spell, which wouldn't surprise him, given how much work William demanded be done in the dispatch. But when the nurse walked in with the expression that was distant, cold, but a bit sad, he knew. He knew something was wrong.
I've killed him... it was a thought that had been tugging at his mind, eating him alive. Torn between wanting to stay besides Grell's side and finding a cure, he chose the latter. Simply because starring at the paling face, the wispy and drying hair would drive him over the edge. Helping Grell was more productive...
"I'll be going then..." Undertaker headed to the record's section, away from William, who hadn't yet spoken. Cautious, feet not making a noise, he was gone like the wind. William didn't even bother to watch him take his leave, deciding to focus completely on the task at hand. The key to success is absolute concentration on that success. I must not ley anything else deter me from my mission, for that may be the down bringing of my success.
As Will headed off, determined to keep a steady mind, Undertaker passed rooms and corridors quickly yet silently. The smile he had been wearing faded away.
He chewed on his bottom lip, a habit that hadn't bothered him for centuries. His gait slowed as he rounded another corner, entering a large hall. All he had to do was find a book. The book. A human book. It would be somewhere in this room for sure, he was certain. Even if he hadn't given any thought to where the record might be, he knew the library with an intimacy that one could only get from years of repetition. Hours spent in these halls sorting, finding, filing. Watching over the souls of humans when they died, by means of these very records. Hundreds, thousands, millions of them, stacked on shelf after shelf.
And Grell's was hopefully somewhere in here.
Ignoring the stares and whispers he heard as he passed other shinigami, Undertaker continued to move at his painfully slow pace. He could find Grell's human record, if there still was one.
Light...
It moved slowly, the blackness and nothingness that it was scraping across a reality of which it didn't belong.
It.. feeds...
The coldness it brought hid in the corners, away from any light that it yearned for, yet despised.
It... is delicious...
It could sense the sweetness and love, the pain and grief. All mixed together: perhaps not the best soul, but one that was still worth something. And a divine scent to it as well...
So divine...
Heaven's light was leaving it.
How... fascinating...
Even with such a heavenly force clutching pitifully at the soul, it only made it brighter. A shining star amidst blackness.
...I must have it.
There was one shelf. One shelf on the topic of souls and such. And the majority of them were old, outdated training manuals for new recruits. Not to mention, the shelf was in a small room, with a small door. At least, compared to the ret of the complex, it was small. One shelf, a stained glass window in front of it. Two tables at both ends of the shelf, dying plants drooping sadly on top of them.
"At least finding a book should be fairly easy." Will mused as he walked in, picking up a discarded book on the floor, and setting it on a table. He took easy strides to one end of the shelf, picking out the first book.
"The new 16th Century Deluxe Edition on Soul Reaping. How... debilitated. Not exactly a choice book anymore." William fitted the book into the space he found it.
"How to Properly Wield One's Scythe. Pathetic." He moved to the next.
"How to Succeed in the Reaper Work Environment. And why, it even has a picture depicting a posh looking lad on the cover. How whimsical. " He declared aloud, a touch of sarcasm lacing his voice. He had the intention to show it to the higher management. No reaper in the right mind should have to read such an audacity of the English language. He flipped open the book.
"Reapers are known for their no-nonsense attitude, their impeccable taste in the classic suit, their styles only individualized by their glasses. As new recruits, it is mandatory to fit into your work environment to gaon success, and this how-to book will show you exactly how to do that!" William recited with happy enthusiasm before sighing, dropping the book on the table. "I was wrong. It is, in fact, an audacity of every language."
Shaking his head to wake himself up a bit, he continued through the books. Most of them seemed the same though. He didn't exactly like the books. Not because they weren't very informative, as they possessed a great degree of information. But Will was more of a hands-on type of learner. And some things, such as fighting and reaping a soul, couldn't be learned from a book.
He picked them up one by one, occasionally checking the contents on the inside. Indexes, definitions, words, letters, numbers, pictures. Reading some paragraphs mockingly, the boredom he felt was growing.
Not boredom... numbness... whatever the feeling was, he willed it away with amusement. He surely seemed ridiculous, and William knew he would never act like this in public. But it distracted him a bit...
Annotations of Our Kind... Will read the title in his mind, flipping through the pages. It appeared almost like some of the other books, words with definitions.
But is was unusually larger, thicker, older. Definitely something worth investigating.
Such a bright light...
The darkness fled down the halls, jumping from shadow to shadow.
Sickeningly beautiful...
It inched tediously before jumping, then began to flow slowly once more.
These creatures, all of the divine...
It could sense them all, but only one soul stood out.
So close...
Biting his lip, he opened the book's pages at random, a musty smell exuding from them. It talked about Angels in depth, something that the other books didn't hold. Intrigued, he skimmed through them even faster, finding interesting facts, small notes, all written down in ink. Soaking up information, taking note of the writing, some words were faded, smeared. He paused on a page.
It was like any other page, but flipped open easier, in a way that let Will know this page had been opened dozens of times before. Staring at it quietly, he slowly sunk to his knees, his eyes fixed on the page.
The Thorns of Death... one of the only known ways to kill a Shinigami... 1000 souls...
He lifted his eyes back up, staring at the books with intensity. The thorns of death were merciless, and cruel. But, even knowing what they could bring, he suddenly wished Grell had them. Only because at least there was a chance of his survival, a chance to save him, see him again. But no. Grell was dying of something no one had a name for. He was dying because humanity had finally caught up to him.
And William couldn't do anything about it.
Biting his tongue painfully, struggling not to make a sound, he looked back at the paper. Alan had died of the Thorns of Death. A coworker, a colleague. He had never gone as far to consider him a friend; Will didn't have friends. His job didn't let him. Or perhaps I don't let myself have friends. He remembered the day Alan had been diagnosed, the day everyone else was sad. Will didn't let himself be sad. He couldn't.
"And yet this time, I would gladly die for Grell, I'd take his place." The moment he uttered those words, he closed his eyes once more. Yes, he would die for Grell. Because... he's a friend? A colleague? Just another person at the office... it doesn't mean anything. He was thinking too much. It was giving him a headache, and his eyes were burning. Trembling, he flipped to another page, any page, in order to keep his composure.
But it struck something in him. People died before, shinigamis died occasionally. Mostly by demons, making it easier to kill those residents of Hell. And yet, now that Grell was dying, William couldn't bring himself to turn a cold shoulder. That ache in his chest would never go away. Grell was in a hospital in that very second, but Will was mocking the passsges of books, just so he could forget about Grell's state.
...Perhaps I don't deserve friends.
Shuddering, he struggled to pull himself together. If being cold-hearted helped him retain his sanity, he could be just that for now. He read on.
"How about... demons this time." Still shaking a bit, he read out loud. "Demons... soulstealers... claimers... attracted to... humans, particularly when a soul is exposed... this is useless..." William shook his head, laughing tensely.
"The human soul is delicate, even more so when detached... from a body." He hesitated. "Exposed in such a state can bring about demons, for such a light is bright in the eyes of the stragglers of the eternal abyss. Exposed..."
Exposed? Exposed how?
Detached from a body...
Did the nurse even say Grell was in a coma?
But Grell isn't human, surely it's different.
Isn't it?
Swallowing slowly, William forced down the queasiness in his stomach as he ran back to find Undertaker. They needed to check on Grell.
Alright, there you have it!
Any mistakes, you let me know!
Any suggestions, let me know as well!
I changed the rating and pairing for good reasons, just to let you readers know. Decided to add smut in later chapters, cause I know how y'all people are into it ;)