SDSC Chapter 4 Carina and William
The beeping of the alarm clock wouldn't stop and when she tried to reach out to smack it, her arm hit metal bars.
There were no metal bars in her room.
Opening her eyes turned out to be more of a challenge than Carina expected. Sandy grit and exhaustion weighed them down. Her mouth felt dry. What was going on?
Peeling them open through a great effort of will, the scene before her swam in her vision. Soft white walls vied with the sheen of steel and some sort of curly loop lay near her head. Rather than a cord, it turned out to be tubing…for an IV. She…was in a hospital?
What happened?
A man appeared to be sitting nearby. Given her current level of perception, it could also be a load of laundry in a chair by a table, but Carina attempted to get the person's attention. Speaking turned out to be just as challenging. A bare wheeze came out and she gagged. Trying to swallow past the dryness, forcing her salivary glands to do their job again, she worked her jaw and tongue and tried to speak.
Her efforts to say, "Excuse me, hello?" turned into croaking for "Water." The laundry lump looked up. Seems it was a person after all.
"You're awake?" The voice belonged to a man. Carina counted it as a score of 1 out of 3 so far. Blinking brought him into clearer focus…or did he just move closer? "Of course you're awake. As soon as everyone else heads out to lunch, you wake up on my watch!" The man had a hairline that receded rapidly, leaving only a tufted sandy brown island near the front. His black glasses were thick and plain.
"Just wait here, I'll see if I can find someone," the stranger said. Then he just left her there. Sitting back, she tried to ignore the burning dryness of her throat. Couldn't he have at least given her even a small cup of water first? Maybe not, she thought. Depending on what happened to her, she might not be allowed to drink.
So what did happen to her? A notion had her checking her side for a mark, but there was nothing there. She didn't even know why she thought there should be something there. Fortunately, there were no scars on her abdomen either, so odds were good that she could have some water, whenever the hospital staff got around to her.
That man, he didn't act like he had any medical training, but she didn't know who he was either. Why was he watching her? Was he actually visiting someone else and happened to see her wake up? Turning her head to the sides, there certainly were curtains that could separate other patients. However, spot the man sat at didn't appear to overlook any bed but hers…at least that's what it seemed like. Carina couldn't be sure as things got fuzzy, very fuzzy once they got more than 12 feet away from her.
Had she hit her head? She reached up to feel for a bandage when a warning flash hit her. Like the memory of a memory, or trying to capture the threads of a dream upon waking, her hand hovered midair before lowering back down to the blankets and smoothing them out.
That had to be it. Did the fall damage her vision? At least she could see. She'd let the staff know when they returned. All her exploration took a while. Where were they? She couldn't hear any sounds of breathing or motion from the nearby beds. No noisy televisions blared or machinery beeped. It was quiet, deathly quiet beyond her tiny square. She almost imagined she was the last person alive in some zombie film as the sound of footfalls reached her ears.
Chiding herself for the wash of relief that ran through her, she anxiously wondered what she should do, but there wasn't anything for her to do in the bed. Nervously, she pressed more creases out near the edges as the sound of boot heels rang on the hard flooring.
Heart racing, she let out a nervous breath as a tall person yanked the curtains back. She thought it was a nun at first with a tall, white habit, but it turned out to be hair, very long hair with an elaborate pair of braids set on one side, twining about one another.
A man? she thought, confused.
Indeed, it was. He wore a doctor's coat, though no scrubs. His hair reached incredibly low, nearly past his waist, and he was tall. She had to tilt her neck back to see his face as he closed the distance between them. Behind him appeared two other shapes. One looked like a dark shadow, nearly as tall as the first while the other she recognized as the first man she met when he spoke.
"Is she all right this time?" the black spectacled one asked.
"That is what we are about to determine if you could be patient for a moment," the pale-haired man replied with a touch of impatience himself. Then he leaned down and Carina caught a glimpse of brilliant sea-green eyes shifting from cool tones to bright amusement as she gasped. They were simply beautiful, yet strangely unique. A double iris, one inside the other like a target, yet of the same brilliant green of springtime green greeted her.
"Finally you are awake," he said by way of greeting. It wasn't a question. "How do you feel my dear? Eh?" he asked gently as a black nailed hand took her pulse.
"I-uh," she said, distracted both by the length of them and the scar around his wrist. What happened to him? she wondered. Do any doctors keep their nails that long? Uncomfortable, she had no one else to help her nor any idea where she actually was. If these people turned out to not have her best interests at heart, she'd have to be prepared to run.
Instead she repeated, "Water?"
"Oh, yes, I'm sure that could be arranged." He gave a nod to the others and the familiar one started to leave. "Not you, Charles. I may need you in a moment." He turned and looked over his shoulder and the other person, the one with the long, dark hair gave him a half-nod and walked out.
Apparently her pulse met expectation, as the person checking her over moved on to shine a light in her eyes. "Please let your gaze follow my finger," he said and she did her best to comply without wincing as it passed in front of the brightness of the lamp.
The other person returned with her water and she marveled at how serene an air he carried with him despite a clear undercurrent of annoyance. Was she a problem for them? Accepting the tiny cup gratefully, she drank the contents down slowly, wishing there was more.
"Now then, my dear, how are you feeling? Do you remember anything?" the pale-haired one asked.
"Not too bad, I guess," she answered then added, "Are you actually a doctor?"
The green orbs observed her for a moment before disappearing behind the veil of his bangs once more. A broad smile crept across his features. "I'm not what you would typically call a physician, however I do happen to have developed a certain set of techniques that prove helpful in certain cases such as yours. I suppose you can consider me a specialist," he concluded, looking thoughtful as he tapped one long nail against his chin.
A specialist? Perhaps he was more of a technology person. Engineers often displayed some sort of quirk or another. Bioengineers might be the same way. The answer didn't assuage her worries, but she felt safe enough in the moment. If they meant to hurt her, they would have done so already.
"Why am I here and where IS here?" she asked at last.
"Ah, as to that, first let's see if you can walk. If you don't mind?" he replied, lowering one of the gates around the bed and gently adjusting the IV hose.
"Uh, am I dressed?" she asked, blushing a little, utterly unsure how revealing her gown might be.
"Bwahahaha!" the man burst out laughing, causing her to start in place. "There, there, I didn't mean to startle you so. I assure you that you are at no risk of indecent exposure. I can have Charles turn away if you like, but I fear someone should pay attention in case you fall and that duty 'falls' on me." Nodding, she pulled the covers back and set her feet on the floor. What should have been a simple action left her trying to maintain her balance on wobbling legs. How long had it been?
"Not bad, can you take a step?" he asked and she looked up at him in shock. Not bad? She felt like a shaking leaf. Still, she pushed a sliding foot forward. It wasn't graceful, but it worked. More, it got easier as the muscles warmed up.
"Excellent!" he said, a hand out in front of her to grab should she start to fall while keeping the IV from getting tangled or pulled with the other. "I think we may be able to pass her over to your care today after all, Charles."
Charles gave a derisive snort.
Carina wondered what they meant. Fishing she said, "I must have escaped something pretty bad, huh?"
"Hmm?" the man aiding her replied in a distracted fashion as he observed her tentative steps. "About that, I wouldn't say you escaped. You died."
"Died?!" she said, shocked, but caught herself before she overbalanced. Reaching a hand out she laid it on his arm to steady herself as she said, "But you brought me back, right?"
"W-e-l-l, technically no. You left that life and are starting a new one with us as a Shinigami," he replied slowly, turning his head as if to catch her expression.
"A Shinigami?" she asked blankly, trying to repeat the strange word.
"Yes, you might know them more as Grim Reapers."
"You can't be serious," she said, gaping at him.
"E-hee-hee. Indeed I am, miss. We are all Grim Reapers here. Me, Charles, everyone you meet actually. Welcome to Purgatory, Miss Carina," he said as her vision faded in and out. His other hand left the stand and laid over her own, steadying her. Her eyes focused on scar encircling his wrist.
"Who exactly are you?" she asked.
"You can call me Ankou," he replied.
"Is that your name?" she asked, thinking it strange.
"Not exactly, but it's as good as anything. For a long time I went by my service number out of protest, but I don't care to share something so personal as a name in this place. You don't have to either if you don't wish to. Do you want to keep your old name or take on a new one?" he asked with a surprising gentleness.
Especially for a Grim Reaper, she thought.
"I…I don't think I could answer to anything else, honestly. Let's just stick with Carina for now…but..," she trailed off.
"Something wrong, my dear?" Ankou asked, cold hand still firm over her shaking one.
"Is…miss correct?" she asked. Wasn't there someone else in her life? How could she not know something that important? A hint of a memory niggled in the back of her mind.
Helping her to return to sit on the bed, Ankou replied, "Well, here any vows you had in the living world are voided. 'Until death do us part' and all that, after all. I recommend you embrace your new existence instead of dwelling. I find it works out best that way. Now, I believe you are well enough to go with Charles. He's the dean of our academy."
Academy? She had no idea what he was talking about. "Wait, why am I in Purgatory?" she asked, suddenly realizing that meant something went wrong somewhere along the way. Had she committed some venial sin? "How did I become a Grim Reaper?"
"I regret to inform you that the most common path to becoming a Shinigami is to have committed suicide. This new life isn't exactly a 'reward'. It's more of a sentence that you get to work off. On a more positive side, you can pay off your perceived debt and get Promoted to heaven. Now, while I'm sure all of this is a shock to you, there is a fresh class starting at the academy in just three days. Since you seem to be properly up and about, I'm thinking we should get you enrolled and set up in the dorms. There you can meet some other new Reapers and find your footing. Don't you agree?" The last was directed not at Carina but at the dark-haired gentleman. He looked sideways at Ankou, then cast his gaze downward and let out a gusty sigh. A simple nod from him sent Ankou beaming.
"Excellent. Charles, let's get the paperwork started for processing. This is going to be quite an interesting term, oh my, yes!" With that he began a circular wiggle that made Carina wonder how he kept his balance. While she wasn't fully certain she could accept his words at face value, getting out of the confines of the hospital room sounded like the best way forward.
With a nod, she agreed to entertain their belief that she was a Grim Reaper, at least until she could find out what was really going on.
Chapter Notes:
The character for Charles the Dean is taken from the anime OVA The Story of Will the Reaper. He's seen as the person judging William and Grell/Grelle's performance on their final exam along with his personal assistant. "Ankou" was chosen as another name for Undertaker from a note in the manga by Yana Toboso that Undertaker was drawn from the idea of the Ankou, a spirit that guarded cemeteries. Many of the tales had the Ankou as the soul of the first person who died in a new year. They were charged with protecting the cemetery for the year and then passed it off to the next soul. Others have the Ankou be a permanent feature.
That Undertaker would accept another 'title name' in place of his actual one seemed likely. Othello and the others had a different nickname for him in the Reaper Academy, but it isn't really a formal name. His number took too long to say, and he had things he needed to get done, so without divulging his real name, he took on the name of "Ankou" in the future setting of this tale. That had the added benefit of allowing him to hold onto one thing from his past life as well as protecting himself from certain beings that could use his true name against him. So in the course of the story, you will see "Ankou" as the future version of the character and "Undertaker" usually as the past version of himself. Hopefully that clears up any confusion and explains why.
(We also won't be adopting Adrian Crevan as created by another fan-fiction author. Adrian literally means "black, dark, of the Adriatic". That is the opposite of the pale-haired Reaper. Crevan is a variant of Craven which was considered one of the WORST insults of the past. To be craven would mean you were a coward. When there were sayings like "come back with your shield or on it" and "Are you yellow?" or "You a yellow-belly?" (taken from yellow-bellied birds like the yellow-bellied sapsucker) meaning, "would you crawl in the dust and beg for your life rather than fight?" of all things, Undertaker wouldn't adopt such a deadly insult as his name. While it's probably a nod to horror film-maker Wes Craven, with a little spelling shift, after researching it the name just didn't fit. No offense to those authors who like it. I still read pieces that use it, but it didn't work for the character we are portraying.)