Hi, again! Thanks to the people who reviewed and subscribed! I know some characters are a little (or a lot) OOC, but hey, this is MY Fanfic.
Moony: That's rude. They're entitled to their own opinions. And don't be conceited. I helped write and co-edit.
... Shut up.
Moony: Maya Koppori does not own Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler. If she did, she would make it unbearably cheesy and no one would read/watch/like it.
On with the show!
Anya silently followed Sebastian through the long corridors of the manor, their footsteps echoing on polished wood or muffled by the occasional rug. It was long past nightfall, but the new maid felt wide awake.
Well, I did sleep for nearly twenty-four hours. It's no wonder I feel so energized.
She supposed it could also be an effect of Sebastian's wonderful tea, but she tried not to think about that. There seemed nothing amiss about the butler at the moment, but Anya feared that could change at any moment. She still couldn't shake the ominous feeling she'd had in the study, when Sebastian's mood had changed so suddenly from "charming gentleman" to "vicious captor".
Anya stared mutely at the butler's back, wondering how someone who seemed so at home with kind people like Mey-rin and Lord Phantomhive (her young master, she realized with a small grin) could have instilled such terror in her.
"Ah, here we are." Sebastian stopped so suddenly that Anya crashed into him from behind. Anya stumbled over both her own feet and the butlers', and would have toppled to the floor if Sebastian hadn't caught her by the shoulder. As soon as she had her balance, she jerked out of his hold.
The butler looked surprised and more than a little annoyed.
"Please, Anya. Try to watch where you step. I stepped in on your behalf so we could have some new staff, not a facsimile of Mey-rin." Sebastian's voice was like ice. Anya wanted so badly (Oh, so badly!) to run away screaming, but she knew that nothing could be worse than returning to the Rosenbloom estate. Instead, she bowed her head in a reluctant apology.
"I'll try to be more careful, Mister Sebastian. However," she added. "I'm afraid that I cannot help the fact that you –forgive me for saying this- terrify me to no end."
This was the last response the butler would have expected. He had to carefully compose his features to keep his amusement from showing through. This little human girl was proving to be quite interesting. Sebastian wondered how far he could take this before she broke down. He would have to try to find out, wouldn't he?
"I suppose that's fair enough." Anya jumped. Her companion had gone from sharp-tongued to amicable in a matter of seconds.
"You must know, Anya," Sebastian continued as he opened a door and waved her through it. "I am very protective of the young master. If I appeared discourteous, I apologize profusely. It is merely the manner I have with those who may be suspect in harming him."
"Oh," Anya stammered, very confused by both the enigmatic butler and the room they had stepped in to. "If that was all… Er, Sebastian, where are we?"
Sebastian sighed heavily. "It does seem a bit excessive, doesn't it?"
Before the unlikely pair, there stood row upon row of racks stuffed with frilly, ruffled ensembles. They were as different from each other as possible, varying in color, design, and length. There was one word that described all of these dresses, however: cute. Sickeningly cute.
"The young master's fiancée, Lady Elizabeth, is very… fond of cute things," the butler explained. "As she visits as often as she can, the young master has this room to meet her needs if she has to stay an extra day unexpectedly."
Anya stared, open-mouthed and appalled. Not because Lord Phantomhive was engaged at such a young age, but because one girl could be so astonishingly girly that she had a whole room dedicated to dresses!
Sebastian led Anya to the very back of the room, where one rack of clothes was shoved into the corner. On the rack was a mixture of men's work clothes and maid uniforms. Longing overtook Anya's shock, and she found herself wishing that she could go back to her tomboy days at the estate. Anya had been left to her own devices after the "Incident", so she hadn't had anyone to impress. At her request, the Count had allowed her to dress herself in a simple tunic and trousers most days. Her hopes were dashed when Sebastian selected a plain maid's dress from the rack.
"Here you are," Sebastian said, and handed her the dress. It had roughly the same make and design as Mey-rin's, but where her dress was dark blue, Anya's was a deep violet.
"We always have a few spares in here, in case there are any rips, tears, stains, fires, or gunfights involved in daily work." The butler smiled, and Anya took that to mean he was joking, although his every word rang with sincerity.
Sebastian gestured to an open door, through which Anya could see a small changing room. She stiffly nodded to the butler and went to change.
The new maid squirmed in her new skirts as she followed Sebastian, yet again, through the dark corridors. The dress was very nice, certainly, but trousers were looking more and more favorable. At least, she conceded. I didn't have to wear the hairpiece. It suits Mey-rin just fine, but accessories are where I draw the line.
Anya had argued this point with Sebastian for a good twenty minutes, although the butler was clearly out of his comfort zone with hair accessories. They eventually settled on a purple bow to match the dress. If only to herself, Anya had to admit that the colors seemed to make her unusual eyes (which she viewed as her best physical trait) stand out a bit more than usual. The dark purple complimented her brown hair rather nicely, in her opinion, but being stuffed into skirts for so long had made her very restless.
Back at the estate, the Count had only forced her to dress up for special dinners or coming-out parties; utter nonsense. Even a plain maid's uniform was far dressier than what Anya was used to wearing on a daily basis. The skirts were heavy and cumbersome, and the white apron tied around her waist did little to help this fact.
"At least you're not wearing one of the other outfits, eh?" Anya laughed. Sebastian couldn't have put it any better. Those monstrosities were far better suited to someone more feminine than she. Eventually they arrived at their destination, and all thoughts of clothes and hair flew out of her with a gasp. As Sebastian continued on without her, Anya lingered in the doorway, too awed and frightened to enter.
Sebastian sighed as he joined her surveying of the carnage around them. Blackened countertops were barely visible under the rubble and charcoal that coated both them and the floor. Anya sidestepped a few rocks and- were those bones? Closer inspection proved them to be chicken bones, but that wasn't at all reassuring.
A hand suddenly popped out of a pile of rubble and grasped at her ankle. With a shriek, Anya scurried away, kicking at the grimy appendage with all of her might. Cowering behind Sebastian, she peeked around his outstretched arm as a figure began to rise from the dirt. She could hear it breathing in loud, raspy gasps. It straightened, and as it raised its face to theirs, a trembling Anya found herself face-to-face with-
A cook.
He was an extremely filthy cook, but obviously a chef all the same. The singed apron and toasted chef's hat were the biggest giveaways. The man swore as he tugged his ruined headwear from his crown, revealing a startling afro of smoking blond hair. He patted it down to the best of his ability, which honestly didn't do much.
"Bardroy, how many times do I have to tell you? NO flamethrowers in the kitchen."
"Get stuffed, Sebastian." The cook spat back. "What d'you know 'bout cookin', anyways?" Fire filled his eyes, so fueled he was by his passion.
"COOKING IS AN ART! AND ART MEANS EXPLOSIONS!"
Bardroy finally took enough time to glance at the stunned figure hiding behind Sebastian. "Oi. Who's this, then?"
The butler stood aside to allow Anya to introduce herself. Mortified for being frightened by the cook, Anya awkwardly explained that she had just been hired on the Phantomhive staff. The chef grinned and shook her hand good-naturedly, and Anya couldn't help but smile back.
"No kiddin? Well, it's good to meetcha and all, but wot's your job, exactly?"
"Well, I-"
"Anya doesn't yet have a particular task." Sebastian broke in. "I'm to give her a tour and help her find a job that suits her talents. Which is what I was doing, but, unfortunately, it seems I am now otherwise occupied with cleaning up after your pyrotechnics." The butler pressed a hand to his temple and sighed. Bardroy winked at Anya while Sebastian wasn't looking.
"Well, why don't I teach her how to cook?" the chef exclaimed, as if the thought had come from out of the blue. He threw an arm around Anya's shoulders and gave Sebastian a cheesy thumbs-up. "Looks like a right good kitchen hand to this chef!"
"Seeing as things couldn't possibly get any worse than they are right now, (A/N Ha! Jinxed it!) and I am going to be at this for a while, why don't you two try to start breakfast? Just something simple will do." The butler seemed to remember something as he walked away. Instantly he was back, directly in front of Anya and Bardroy, murder etched into his features. "AND NO FLAMETHROWERS."
His terrified charges nodded emphatically, afraid to speak to the nightmarish butler. Satisfied, Sebastian got to work, clearing rubble from the counters onto the floor. The chef and his interning assistant exchanged knowing looks and backed away slowly to the end of the kitchen that was still, well, a kitchen.
"…Darn philistine. No appreciation for true art. Or speedy cooking." Bardroy grumbled. Anya giggled, and the tense mood Sebastian had set evaporated.
"Is he always that… scary?" Anya asked half-jokingly. "He seemed civil enough when we met." Bardroy shrugged as he rummaged in the cupboard for some tools.
"Aw, old Sebastian's not anything to get worked up about. He just takes his job a little too seriously sometimes."
Anya frowned. "Old? How old is he, Mr. Bardroy?" The chef laughed and tossed her a spatula.
"First of all, the name's Bard. No misters or Bardroys allowed. Only Sebastian ever calls me that to my face. Also," he continued. "I really have no idea how old Sebastian is, but he acts like such a fussy nursemaid over the manor that it just makes him seem much older than me, or even Tanaka." Anya's non-recognition was written all over her face.
"Old Tanaka has served here since the young master's father was the 'young master'." Bard explained. "Too old to do much now except drink tea and give advice every once in a while. You'll meet him later."
Anya nodded her understanding.
"Well, Anya, it's three in the morning and we're wide awake. What d'you wanna learn how to cook?"
"Nothing en flambé!" Anya blurted without thinking. Bard laughed heartily.
"Oh, all right. With that sourpuss over there lurking about, I wouldn't get away with it anyways. How about something simple? Eggs and bacon sound good to you?"
Anya's mouth began to water. "That," she assured, "Would be perfect."
Bard gave her an impish grin. "Alright, but here's the deal; you get to taste your first attempts, but your final product will be the young master's breakfast!" Anya wailed at the cook's proposal, but had no choice to agree. She removed her cornflower ring from her finger and gently folded it into her apron pocket. Then she got to work.
Four hours and several burnt pieces of bacon later….
"It'll be fine, Anya. You caught on a lot quicker than I thought." Bard slid a plate of toast on the tray that held Anya's most recent attempt at breakfast. "I tried a bit of that last batch, and it wasn't half bad. Of course," he boasted. "Only a master like me could have taught you this much in a matter of hours, but you obviously have some talent for it. Cooking is all about improvising. When you couldn't manage sunny side up, for instance, it took ingenuity and creativity to think up scrambled eggs instead."
Anya only heard bits of the chef's monologue. She was too nervous to concentrate. This was the first time she had ever cooked for anyone, even if it was only bacon and eggs. She had tasted enough of her previous attempts to know that she had improved quite a bit, but negative thoughts still swirled around in her head. What if the young master liked the eggs more runny; the bacon crispier; did he even like eggs in general? She almost wished that Sebastian was there so she could ask him, but he had disappeared after miraculously cleaning and repairing the kitchen alone.
Her troubled thoughts were interrupted by the clumsy whirlwind that was Mey-rin crashing into the kitchen. Narrowly avoiding knocking over a rack of spices, the bespectacled maid stumbled her way across the kitchen to Anya and Bard.
"Good morning, it is! Bard, Anya!" she greeted cheerily. "The young master is will take his breakfast in the dining room now." She held out her hands for Anya to give her the tray, but Anya hesitated. She had poured her heart into making this food, and she wasn't ready to let go of it just yet.
Bard shook his head at Mey-rin and said nostalgically, "Let 'er be, 'Rin. I remember my first breakfast. Almost didn't let the young master have the plate, I didn't. Go on, Anya. You might as well learn all the tricks of the trade, eh? You can take the food yourself, if you like."
Anya shot him a grateful glance and exited the kitchen to the sounds of Mey-rin sampling one of the more, um, interesting platters of eggs. It took her a full minute of wandering aimlessly through the halls to realize that she had completely forgotten where the dining room was located. Just as she began to panic that the food would get cold before she found her way, someone tapped Anya's shoulder from behind.
Normally, she would have whirled around to face whoever was behind her, but now Anya was very mindful of the tray in her arms. She was also getting unsettlingly accustomed to the dark presence lingering through the household. Slowly turning, she calmly addressed the figure behind her.
"Sebastian," she asked. "Before you say something sarcastic and make me want to stuff this toast down your throat, could you please help me find my way to the dining room?"
The butler smirked at her hostile civility. He hadn't thought her capable of such cheek. "But of course." He gestured down the hall to a door on the right hand side. Leading the way, he opened the door for her to go in ahead of him.
The room was taken up by an enormous wooden table covered with a spotless white tablecloth. The only chair currently in use was at the head of the table, occupied by Ciel Phantomhive himself. The fixed smile that Anya had prepared melted into a sincere grin, and she entered with the tray.
"Good morning, my lord," she greeted as she placed the tray in front of him. Sebastian was right behind her, serving tea. "Did you sleep well?" Ciel glanced up at her with a small smile before beginning his breakfast.
"I did, thank you. I see you're starting to try your hand at various tasks. Has anything jumped out at you yet?" Anya thought for a moment. While cooking with Bard had been both fun and a learning experience, it didn't seem like the thing that she would want to do every single day. She wasn't sure she could even manage anything past simple breakfast items.
"Nothing has really felt right yet, my lord. I'll keep trying."
Ciel nodded absentmindedly as he contemplated his eggs. "These aren't quite what I'm used to, but they're surprisingly good. And, well, not charcoal." Ciel smiled wistfully. "It reminds me of when I was younger… I used to eat this for breakfast every other day, it seems." He looked to his butler questioningly. "Did you make these, Sebastian? There's no way this is Bard's work."
Anya swelled with pride. This was her work the young master was praising! Her hard work had paid off. Anya watched Sebastian closely, waiting for him to tell Lord Phantomhive that she, a first-time cook, had stayed up all night learning how to work in the kitchen and had made this meal.
"I apologize if it is not to your tastes, but I thought that perhaps simple home cooking would be a nice change of pace." The butler's tone was tender, but his eyes taunted Anya across the table, stabbing daggers of spite straight through her heart. He's really that low, to take credit for my work. Anya fumed silently. Luckily, her better judgment took hold, and she held her tongue. After all, she reasoned, serving isn't a contest. His job and mine is to make the young master's life as easy and comfortable as possible.
Anya sent her own eye-message to Sebastian: "I'm not rising to your bait. I don't care what you do." The butler's smirk vanished. He had obviously expected her to fight back and humiliate herself in front of the young master. She couldn't find words to describe the surge of victory over not giving Sebastian the satisfaction of being right.
Glaring, the butler answered a question that Ciel had asked and Anya had not heard due to her mental raging. "I believe he is raking leaves in the garden, sir."
"Right, then," said Ciel with finality. "Sebastian, escort Anya to the garden immediately, and then return here." He glanced up at Anya again. "Finian will need some help, raking the garden all on his own. I want you to see what you can do in respect to plants and trees. Who knows? You might find your calling outside in the garden." He stared at Anya until she realized that she had been dismissed. Bobbing a short curtsy, Anya replied, "Of course, my lord." Sebastian led her out of the dining room.
Anya was very careful not to say anything to Sebastian as he once again acted as her guide. She feared that if either of them spoke, it would turn into a full-scale argument. Her curiosity, however, was piqued when she found herself back in the "Dresses Room".
"Sebastian?" Anya questioned. "Why are we-?"
"You didn't think you would get any yard work done in that get-up, did you?" the butler replied snidely. He pulled –thank heavens!- a loose tunic and a pair of trousers from the rack, and tossed them over his shoulder at her. He half led, half pushed her into the changing room.
"Change quickly," Sebastian instructed curtly. "I must return to assist the young master as soon as possible." Anya huffed as he closed the door on her. He may have frightened and upset her before, but now Anya realized that Sebastian was just another person trying his best to do his job well. He could be infuriating at times, but everything he did held his young lord's best interests in mind.
At least I'm wearing real clothes again, Anya rejoiced, banishing the surly butler from her thoughts. And I'm finally going to meet this mysterious gardener! She carefully extracted the flower ring from the apron she had removed, and put it in its rightful place on her ring finger. It wouldn't last much longer, Anya knew, but it was reassuring to have the ring on her hand again. Like a greeting from an old friend.
The Rosenbloom manor was quite large for a residential home, and the surrounding grounds were even bigger. It had taken Anya months after the "Incident" to explore the entire garden inch by inch; tree by tree. The Phantomhive estate was at least twice as large, and five times more interesting. One corner of the garden was taken up by some gravel and sparse, bare trees; a Japanese rock garden. Another section was like a jungle, it had so many exotic plants. There was an inordinate amount of earth taken up by luminous white roses. Beyond the roses there stood a whole forest of red, orange, and yellow trees. And from somewhere behind a hedge, there came the sounds of joyous laughter.
Sebastian had merely shown her to the back door leading outside to the garden before hurrying to his master's side, so Anya followed the laughter by herself. She followed the hedge, looking for the end, for a corner to go around. Too late, she whirled around, only to find herself completely lost in a hedge maze. Clenching her left hand tightly around her ring, Anya fought back her panic. She hated not knowing where she was, and not being able to see where she was going.
The laughter continued farther into the maze. It played through the chill autumn wind, teasing Anya's hair from her face. Suddenly enchanted by her beautiful surroundings, the rising panic dissipated and Anya let herself follow the laughter. She soon turned a corner into the center of the maze, and she gasped, transfixed.
In the center of the maze was a large circular glade. The high hedge walls blocked out all signs of the world beyond, making it seem as if this small piece of paradise was the whole universe. A small grove of trees, currently undergoing the transition from summer greens to fiery fall hues, surrounded a small pond in the dead center of the circle. A mother duck and her ducklings quacked and squawked as they paddled around in the clear water. And, crouched at the edge of the pond and throwing bread to the ducks, was a heartily laughing young man.
The boy chucked an especially large chunk of bread into the pond, but hit the mama duck by accident. The birds scattered, and the boy leaped to his feet.
"Come back, birdies!" he called apologetically. "It was an accident. I have more bread!" It was no use. The ducks were long gone. Sighing, he turned to go back to raking, and found Anya blocking his way. His solemn face split into a wide grin at the sight of her as he ran to greet her.
"Yay!" he cried, jumping around crazily. "The lady woke up! I told Mey-rin my flowers would help!" He pulled Anya into a bear hug, crushing all of the breath from her lungs. He stood half a head taller than her and for a minute all Anya could see was the boy's straw-blond hair. When he finally released her, their eyes met fully for the first time. At first Anya couldn't comprehend what she was seeing; twin pools of clear green. This boy's eyes looked like they were made from sea glass; completely clear and transparent. It offered a sense of honesty to his features.
"Finny?" she ventured. The boy blinked, and then grinned again.
"You know who I am?" Finny asked, scratching the back of his neck bashfully. Anya smiled warmly back at him. It was as if she did know him, if only through his past actions. She wordlessly held up her left hand and pointed at her cornflower ring. Finny clasped his hands together in delight.
"Wow!" he exclaimed. "So pretty! How did you do that?"
"Mey-rin made it from the flowers you brought while I was asleep," Anya answered. "Thank you, by the way. They were beautiful. Did you grow them here, in the garden?"
Finny nodded vigorously. "Usually I'm not very good at growing pretty little things like that, but Sebastian taught me how, and we have a greenhouse, so I could practice taking care of flowers even when the weather turns cold, and they look sooooo nice when-!" He suddenly broke off and smacked his forehead.
"Here I am babbling like a brook, and I haven't even met you properly yet!" The gardener hung his head in shame. Anya giggled at the sight of his tormented look.
"It's alright, really," she assured him, and held out her hand to shake. "My name's Anya. Sebastian gave me a job, but I'm still trying to find out what it is. He told me to come out here and help you rake up the leaves."
Finny shook her hand gently, as if it was made of glass. "Well, you already know my name. I'm Finian, but you can call me Finny. Everyone does." He hesitated, staring down at his shoes. "Anya… when I, uh, hugged you a minute ago… I'm really sorry! I was just happy to see you awake, and so I just wondered if I, erm…"
"If you what?" Anya was confused, yet highly amused. Did this boy think that he had embarrassed her? Made her uncomfortable? She glanced at their still entwined hands, and Finny flushed at the fact that he had forgotten to let go. Looking more uncomfortable than ever, his words all came out in a jumbled rush.
"Did I hurt you at all?" he blurted.
"Of course not," Anya exclaimed. She gripped his arm as he tried to turn away from her. "How could you have hurt me?" Finny looked relieved. His tense arm muscles gradually relaxed under Anya's touch, and he took her hand again to lead her back to the garden.
"You see," he explained as they wound their way back through the maze. "I'm really very strong. Sometimes I forget my own strengths; get excited. When I first began work here, I could hardly pick things up without breaking them. I'm getting better at controlling it, but I was afraid I might have gotten caught up in the moment."
They had made it back to the main garden. Anya started laughing, unable to control herself.
"I'm sorry," she wheezed, trying to catch her breath. "Just, I don't think- you could hurt anyone- but you were- so upset about it. All you did was knock the wind out of me." Anya grinned up at him. "Are you sure you're really that strong? It seems a little unreal."
Unfortunately, her attempts to cheer Finny up fell on deaf ears. Completely solemn, Finny released his grip on Anya's hand. He walked a few pieces away, and picked up a good-sized rock. Nothing special; just a smooth brown stone about the size and weight of a newborn baby. Finny stared at it for a moment, weighing it in his hand. Without any apparent effort, he threw the rock at one of the garden's walls. It smashed straight through the wall, sending bricks and dust flying.
"The doctors made me this way." Anya wasn't sure whether to shy away from Finny's dead tone or hug him tight. "They kept me locked up. They never let me go outside. When they gave me the shots, my insides turned to fire and ice all at the same time. My body was worked and re-worked like metal until it was stronger than diamond. I had no control of my strength anymore; I still don't have much now." Finny continued sadly as he began putting large bricks back in place. Anya jumped in to help, fetching some of the lighter chunks of rock for the gardener to replace.
"You seem well in control to me," Anya risked tentatively. "You're underestimating your own restraint." As she passed him some bricks, Finny turned to her with tears in his eyes.
"I didn't think I would have trouble controlling it, either," he choked out. "When they had me locked up, there was a window at the very top of my room. Every day, a little bird would come to perch on the windowsill." Finny put the final brick back in place. It would need some mortar later, but this was a good temporary fix.
"That bird was the only friend I had. One day, it finally flew down into the room. I reached out my hand, and it actually flew to me. I was so happy, I reached out to pat its head. That one small move killed the bird instantly. When the doctors came, they had to pry the bird's body away from me. It had been my hope, my hope of getting outside and escaping, but I had killed it."
Finny clenched his fists. "I had pretty much given up when Sebastian found me. I accidentally killed the doctors when they tried to hold me down, so I started running. I bumped right into Sebastian. He offered me a job with pay and holiday. I told him I just wanted to be outside in the sun."
Anya lost it. Crossing the distance between them in a few short strides, she flung her arms around Finny's neck and buried her face in his warm wool jacket. She didn't care that the older boy flailed awkwardly, caught off guard. She knew it didn't matter that the tears streaming down her face were absolutely soaking Finny. What mattered was that Anya simply needed a hug. (And at the moment, so did Finny.) The events of the past few days had finally caught up with her, and the stress was traumatizing her. Add that to her ability to relate so completely to Finny's experiences of being alone, and Anya was nearing her breaking point.
Slowly, carefully, the gardener returned the embrace. He gingerly patted the top of her head and murmured that everything was okay, and that if she needed to cry, that was fine, too. They stood like that for a while; Anya letting out all of her frustration and sadness, and Finny reciprocating those feelings from his own. Anya finally pulled away, wiping at her face with the heels of her hands. Finny grinned down at her.
"All better?" he asked, ruffling her hair playfully. Anya hiccupped, but nodded gratefully. She stared into his open face for a minute, deliberating. Making up her mind, she took a breath.
"You didn't give up, either."
Finny frowned at the cryptic statement. "What do you mean?"
Anya flushed, and stared at her shoes. She kicked some leaves around before replying.
"Well," she started. "I was alone a lot too, for a long time. At home, people are scared of me. I had one friend… but he got scared of me, too." Anya cringed at the memory. Eugene had defended her until he saw that her scar had disappeared. Then he came up with the theory that his good friend had been possessed by an evil demon. He probably still believed that.
"But anyway, what I meant was that I always had… hope, I guess it was. Hope that I could get away from all that. You had it too. You said you killed it when you killed your little bird friend; I don't think it ever left you. You just don't seem like the type who has given up on hope."
Anya took Finny's hand again. "You will always have hope," she whispered. "I can see it in you." Finny's grin widened again. He squeezed her hand reassuringly.
"Well," he stated boldly. "I can see it in you, too. So when you need hope, you come to me. When I need hope, I'll come to you."
Anya gave him a small smile. "That's what friends do, isn't it?"
Finny winked in response. "So, Friend, shall we get to raking?" Anya threw him a cheeky salute.
"Very well! Come on, let's play!" The gardener ran towards the trees with Anya following close behind.
"Wait!" she cried, laughing as she ran. "Weren't you just saying we were going to work on the garden?"
Finny chuckled and came to a stop at the edge of large field of grass in front of the miniature forest. Two rakes stood propped up against a tree.
"Of course," Finny told her as he handed her a rake. "Working in the garden is only fun when you make it a game, you see?"
Anya understood that well enough, but…
"But why were there already two rakes?"
Finny laughed in the middle of pulling his gloves from his pocket. He had removed them to feed the ducks, but the fall weather was finally affecting him. He also grabbed his spare gloves from the brim of his straw hatand tossed them to Anya.
"I always bring two," he explained sheepishly. "It saves me the trouble of going back to the toolshed if the rake snaps." Anya found this extremely humorous for some reason. As Finny joined in her laughter, Anya began to slip the gloves over her fingers, and remembered the ring. It had been her anchor and solace through her introduction to this strange new life, and a reminder of a potential friend. Watching Finny chase his hat, which the wind had torn away from him, Anya let the small token float away on the breeze. She didn't need it anymore.
Sebastian and Ciel stood watching at the dining room windows. Both were amused greatly by how well the gardener and the new maid were getting along. Ciel even allowed himself a small smile as the two staff members chased each other around the garden, rakes flailing madly.
"You desired to speak with me, my lord?" Sebastian queried. Ciel turned from the window to face his butler. His face was frozen in helpless anger.
"Sebastian, I have ordered you not to ever lie to me."
The butler bowed. "Of course," he replied smoothly. "I am the young master's faithful servant. I never lie."
"You didn't cook that breakfast." It wasn't a question.
Sebastian smirked at his master's cunning. "No, my lord."
Ciel growled in frustration. "Oh. I suppose you never actually said that you had made it, did you?" he mumbled. "Foul demon. What did you have to gain from that ridiculous venture?"
"The task of a Phantomhive servant is to keep the manor and its grounds in order. My job consists of that, and the even greater task of ensuring your safety. No member of the staff is to be employed here merely for their own gain. They must always put the young master's wellbeing and happiness first."
Ciel sighed. "It was a test, then. I can't disapprove, but no more for Anya. She's endured enough these past days, and has proved herself capable in many areas of work. You will be as civil to her as the others have been. Do you understand, Sebastian? That is an order."
"Yes, my lord."
Ciel slumped into his chair, suddenly feeling exhausted. Why was every member of his household so difficult? If it wasn't the three stooges causing trouble, it was Sebastian making mischief. If it wasn't Sebastian, it was soaking wet children showing up in the dead of night.
"My lord?" Sebastian purred. "I didn't want to bring this up at breakfast, but now that we're alone…" The butler reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a crisp new envelope with a glossy, red seal. "This arrived just this morning. It's from her."
Ciel was now completely alert. He all but tore the letter from Sebastian's hand. Ripping open the envelope, he quickly scanned the page of Her Majesty's cramped, loopy writing.
"The Undertaker was right," he murmured. "He always is."
Ciel glanced sideways at his butler and protector. Sebastian was pretending not to read the letter over his master's shoulder. Ciel ignored it.
"Sebastian," he ordered, already standing. "Prepare to leave for London at once. Her Majesty wants me to clean up after a few mercenaries in the area. And," he added as an afterthought, "I think I might fancy a short visit to Scotland Yard while we're there."
Sebastian was brought up short. He had been about to leave and prepare, but now his curiosity was aroused. "May I ask why, my lord? I was under the impression that you and the Yard did not get along very well."
Ciel grimaced, flustered. "I am simply curious about the case Anya presented us with. It is highly unusual for such a stubborn lot of Englishmen to let even a small case go without resolution." Ciel was trying his best to seem impassive, but Sebastian could tell just how much this was bothering his young master.
"You do realize, of course," he admonished. "That this means we will be leaving the five of them alone, in the manor, for quite some time."
Ciel smirked. "Of course. Your new assistant has proven quite capable of keeping our staff in check. Breakfast was edible and pleasantly devoid of flamethrowers. Mey-rin is so distracted by another female in the household that she doesn't try to carry more than two things at a time. And Finny actually got the raking done." He gestured out the window. Sebastian looked and nearly gasped.
There were two neat piles of leaves stacked against the garden wall. Both Anya and Finny were leaning on their rakes, admiring their work. Finny's rake abruptly broke in half, and the clumsy boy fell onto the grass, flailing his arms wildly. As Sebastian and Ciel watched, Anya rushed to his side. Seeing that he had only bruised his pride and his rear, Finny laughed uncontrollably. Anya giggled and tried to help him up, but Finny's inhuman strength pulled her to the ground with him.
The awkward tumble soon turned into a battle of flying leaves; Finny sticking leaves in Anya's hair, and Anya shoving fistfuls of them into Finny's hat. Even with bunches of leaves flying this way and that, the garden looked magnificent. Even Sebastian had to admit that.
"Very well," the butler conceded. "I suppose the manor will be in capable hands for a few days."
"Sebastian," Ciel jibed. "I can't believe you. You're an extremely powerful demon, and yet you fuss over the household like- like a nursemaid!" Sebastian cringed as his master echoed Bardroy's earlier statement. Ciel turned back to the window, only to see Anya and Finny retreating indoors from the cold wind, picking leaves from their clothes and hair.
"Start preparing," Ciel ordered. "Then gather up the staff to let them know that we'll be gone for a while." Ciel waited to be acknowledged. "Sebastian?" He faced the other direction, only to find himself talking to the empty air. On the table in front of him was a small card. In precise, elegant script were the words Yes, my lord.
Ciel sighed. "At least let me finish a sentence, you demon."
Well... that took all of five days to write. I kept checking my email constantly to see if I had any happy readers. I think I'll just put the next chapter up as soon it's done, okay? I get impatient very quickly.
Moony: You don't say...
Shut up, Moony! you're just saying that because I uploaded this to the document manager as soon as we edited it!
Moony: I rest my case. Don't make your friends or any stranger who actually reads your crap wait next time, alright? I'll give you a cookie~
COOKIE! Fine. Back to the writing board! Until next time, Fanfictioneers!