Onnashitsuji

A/N: More reviews this time, maybe?

Disclaimer: You and I both know that I do no own Kuroshitsuji—I only own the OCs.

Warnings: OCs, possible OoC-ness and cliché-ness, some language, sexual implications, violence

Onnashitsuji

Three: The soul, listening

"Teresa, do you remember. . ." I prodded, hating the sickening feeling of an awkward silence.

"What, your Majesty?"

"How it was before me? How you were before and—" It was a topic that intrigued me ever-so. "—You know, your past!" To put it simply.

"A rather odd question coming from you," She said, in a way she mocked me, "The answer you wish is rather long and dull. Why do you want to know?"

"A mistress has to know her servant's stories, right?" I smiled at her, "And a long quiet trip would certainly bore me to death. . ."

"I'm afraid, your Majesty, I am not allowed to tell you such stories."

"And why not? The trip would take us an hour and a half to get there!" I was persistent, honestly, why wouldn't she tell me? Is she just like the quartet she brought with her?

She sighed, "If her Majesty wishes, then her Majesty shall hear of my past."

"At last you've finally listened, so tell me in detail, alright?"

"Now where to start? Would you like to hear about the underworld?"

Underworld; Underground; hell to put it simply, was just out of reach to physical bodies and human activity. Despite all beliefs humans had about the under city, not all of them are true.

True, that there are demons and devils residing in that place. True, that they torture and consume souls who have been sinful in their past life.

They are either tortured by burning, drowning, striking, whipping, or just being eaten alive; for no reason, at all. In their physical torture, they would have been humiliated, stripped of their dignity, and greatly emotionally unstable. They cannot kill themselves, unless they are eaten alive. They would be torn apart, limb form limb before, and they aren't dead, they would still feel the pain of that. When they are eaten, they would burn to death in the stomachs of demons.

"Gruesome isn't it, your Majesty?" She smirked evilly.

"Very," I held back some "undigested food", "Quite gruesome. . ."

"Would you like me to stop, or would I push further on?"

"G-go on,"

Now another thing about hell far, far different from your beliefs, is that we demons live a rather flashy lifestyle.

You wouldn't see and rotting corpses and skeletons on the streets; they were kept clean and litter free. You wouldn't see waterfalls or rivers or lakes of blood, nor anything gruesome. Instead you would see perfectly clean, crisp surroundings with gorgeously sculpted ornaments and statues around every building.

The only gruesome even occurring every day would be, when fresh souls are sent to us. In the furthest, darkest, and largest part of hell would be the "Fetching Station". There, souls are tortured and consumed almost simultaneously. There, our true forms are unleashed, full powers unlocked, and the fights begin.

"So hell is like London?"

"The entire world actually, but in a darker shade. . ."

"And the fights, what is that about?"

Fighting, a rather barbaric and violent way we demons use to overcome our enemies. Mostly fighting is done over the souls, who should consume the largest and most sinful souls.

Souls power us demons and the greater the amount of souls consumed, the greater the power. A human soul would be enough, but consuming demon souls would give us greater stamina; we would be faster and stronger, our transformations would be seamlessly perfect.

We fight with every bit of our entirety; victory would bring us respect, honor, fear; and defeat would either leave us deprived of everything or dead in a stomach.

"So, how many have you fought then?"

"From when I was born, I would say about a hundred."

"Losses? Wins?"

"Sixty-one wins, Thirty-eight losses, and one draw." The last phrase was hard; angry and envious.

She continued, not allowing me to ask her a question.

Now demons you ask, are very complex creatures.

We do not run around in hell killing and taunting others. We do not act like savages, other than when souls are being delivered.

We are calm, collected creatures who respect each other—most of the time. Demons, in popular belief, are ruthless, ugly, ill-mannered creatures of the night. No, we are not ruthless, nor ill-mannered, but some really are ugly—we are gentlemen and women.

So now, when humans are desperate for help, they would result in summoning one of us. And when doing so, you make a deal with us with your life; a deal with the devil, in popular belief.

I ignored the most of what she said after, "So, what about that draw?" I drawled out, smirking at her.

"That draw, I would rather forget about that." She spoke in a harsh tone.

"Oh, come on, it's alright to have someone capable of continuous fighting, isn't it?"

"No, it's not!" She exclaimed, either insulted, angry or both. "In my case, your Majesty, having some competition that would just put a match to a draw is more humiliating than losing!"

"How so? Enlighten me on the subject."

"It feels as if he doubts my prowess, my ability to defeat him!"

'So, it's a he?' I thought, smirking at the idea.

"If he thinks he would just lose, then why even fight in the first place?" She had an outburst, one of the very, very few times.

"Is it because he is just all talk? Or is it because he thinks I'm not powerful enough to defeat him? Or even worth enough to fight him?" She was rambling angrily.

I can't help but hold back a laugh, "Really now, Teresa? Is that it?"

"Quite so, your Majesty, quite so." She muttered.

"So tell me, who is he?"

"Someone I'd rather destroy than to remember, or even forget." She said harshly.

A/N: I now have a plot line. I feel like smiling like a maniac. LOL. So if you want to hear more from me and this story, you better review, alright? I'm in near desperation for feedback. Please?