A fold is a building or enclosure where a small flock of sheep can be kept warm and safe. It is sometimes also used to refer to the flock contained in the fold.

The confident sound of snapping fingers broke the silence of the kitchen for the third time in thirty minutes. "I've got it," Bard announced. "I can teach him how to roll a smoke."

Sebastian selected a pot, saucer, and cup from Royal Worcester's "disheveled bird" set for today's afternoon tea. "Absolutely not."

"Eh, I-I could teach him how to… clean a pair of glasses," Mey-Rin tried.

Hot water was poured over a blend of black tea and dried currants. "That would take less than thirty seconds. Try again."

"Oh, I know, I know!" Finny sprung out of his chair. "I could teach him how to read!"

That answer was so undeservedly confident, Sebastian nearly flicked too much clotted cream onto the glacé cherry scones he was plating. "Finny… the young master already knows how to read."

Finny sat back down and laid his chin on the servant's table, immediately crestfallen. "I know… It's just… It's the only thing I could probably teach." He started tracing the grooves in the wooden surface with his fingertip. "The young master already knows everything. He's smarter than all of us, probably combined."

"If that's not the rightest thing you've said all afternoon, I don't know what is." Bard folded his hands behind his head. "Well, I give up. I got nothin'."

Mey-Rin clenched her fists. "You can't give up! The young master would be rightfully disappointed in you then, he would!"

Bard let out a long groan. "I know, but what can I do, I'm outta ideas! Besides, at least I taught him how to tame that new horse a few months ago. I already did the assignment really."

"I don't know how to do anything the young master would care about…" Finny mumbled.

Mey-Rin looked at her lap. "Oh, who are we kidding… I'm not sure I'm much use for anything other than assassin work."

Bard sighed out his nose. "Ehh, maybe none of us are… Young master said as much himself, really." After a quiet moment, he smacked his fist gavellike against the table, startling the others. "But that's no reason to get down on ourselves! It just means we're extra good at what we were hired for. Right?"

"I'm not sure that's what it means," said Mey-Rin.

Finny had gone right back to sulking. "The young master is going to be so mad at me…"

Bard gave another, longer sigh and leaned his head over the back of the chair. "All right, you two can go ahead and mope about it, if that's what you want. I'm taking a nap. Maybe if I'm lucky I'll dream up somethin' good."

"And I'm off to deliver this tea," Sebastian added as he whisked past them with the tray, "so do please continue to ponder ideas. Much as you might want it to be the case, I can't do all of the thinking for you."

Once in the hall, the fullness of his hands was the only thing that kept Sebastian from pinching the bridge of his nose in yet another show of exasperation. This latest "test" of the young master's felt more like a punishment than any of the others had so far. It was probably meant to be one. Sebastian had suggested teaching him unconventional lessons, and failed to inspect the house properly, and used his otherworldly abilities without a good reason. All of these things had made Ciel unhappy, and so he wanted Sebastian to know it by returning the favor.

Consider it returned. The servants had been struggling for the better part of an hour to come up with their own lesson plans, and Sebastian was too busy to be of much help. It was a losing battle, and that had to be a part of the design.

But Sebastian also felt that this passive way of showing anger wasn't going to work between them anymore. Demon and human were certainly both guilty of exercising hostility instead of honesty when it came to their anger — but maybe that could change today. Sebastian would confront the boy on this now and discuss the matter with openness instead. It would certainly be better than playing along with this overly complicated charade.

Ciel was back in the library, cozied up in an armchair with another book, which he tucked against the armrest when Sebastian entered. He had taken off his eye patch for a change, knowing there was no chance of receiving unexpected visitors today. Ciel fixed this mismatched gaze, along with a self-satisfied grin, on Sebastian as he approached with the tray. "Well?" Ciel asked with impish cheer. "How is everything coming along?"

Sebastian began placing the delicacies onto the tea table to the boy's left. "About as well as you expect, I imagine," he said.

Ciel snickered lightly. "They've decided on some quite foolish lessons, then?"

"On the contrary, sir. They haven't decided on anything."

"Oh? Really?" Ciel reached for his cup and sipped. "Are they at least trying to come up with something?"

Sebastian held the tray againt his side. "They were," he said. "Now, I believe they are close to giving up. Finny seems quite discouraged. Bard is taking a nap, and Mey-Rin is barely persevering."

To his surprise, Ciel's expression grew furrowed, like this was not what he had been expecting to hear. "They can't give up, I told them they had to do it," he said. "If they were worried I was angry before, I really will be if they deliberately don't follow orders."

Sebastian put a hand to his chin. "Are you not already angry, though?"

Ciel blinked. "No, I'm not angry. Why do you think that?"

This noble furniture was not meant for a butler's use, but Sebastian sat down upon the sofa now to show he was serious. Fortunately, Ciel had perhaps grown too accustomed to this sight to criticize him. "I can think of several reasons why you would be angry," Sebastian began. "I've been troublesome for you. I haven't been keeping up with the fires or the housework amid all the chaos. I made suggestions for how to spend your time that you didn't approve of. I allowed the manor to be damaged by the storm, which in turn damaged the servants. And of course we're all trapped in these tight quarters together. I would guess that you are feeling disappointed with all of us, but with me especially. That is why you invented this challenge, isn't it? You wanted me to understand that my suggestion to study something unconventional was a poor one."

Ciel's puzzlement hadn't faded all throughout the explanation. He paused in the silence, chewing his lip pensively and thinking through what Sebastian had just said. "If you're having trouble keeping up with the extra housework today, it's not as though I really care," he said at last. "I don't need my house to be perfectly clean every day. Just manage the fires and make sure everyone's fed, and then you can reserve the rest of your time for helping the servants."

Now it was Sebastian's turn to consider his surprise. "Young master, I know I agreed that I wouldn't ask how you're feeling outside our scheduled times, but I would like to request some clarity. You are not upset right now?"

"No, I'm not upset," Ciel grumbled. "Is that what everyone thinks or just you?"

"Well, you did seem somewhat pointed in your evaluation of my idea to branch out in your studies. I assumed this order was for the sake of proving me wrong."

Ciel shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "I mean, fine, maybe I can see why you'd think that, but… I wasn't trying to… punish anybody. So if that's what everyone thinks I was trying to do, then we can call it off. I don't like to be misunderstood."

Hmm. It seems I've been entirely wrong in my assumption. "If it wasn't a punishment, what were you trying to do, sir?" Sebastian asked softly.

A loose shrug. "I don't know, something that isn't boring." Ciel gestured at the windows, running with so much water that the world beyond was a sloshing blur. "I'm bored, even you're bored, and now Tanaka, Bard, Mey-Rin, and Finny have nothing to do but sit around. We may as well entertain each other, else we'll just wind up brooding, and what a waste that is. So I thought this would be better than nothing."

Oh, I've really been entirely wrong in my assumption.

"... You came up with a game for everyone to enjoy together," Sebastian realized aloud.

"If you see it that way." Ciel shrugged again. "It's not as though it's hard. Coming up with games for Funtom is something I'm already used to doing. And I've pinned the crux of the brainstorming on you four. I just provided a springboard, really."

The boy was going to brush this off when what he'd done was really so creative and thoughtful. "How clever you are," Sebastian said, giving him a smile. Ciel didn't return it; there was something reluctant in his posture, perhaps even shy. Sebastian didn't give up. "I'm very impressed. None of the rest of us could have come up with this."

Another shrug, some of the tension disappearing from Ciel's features. "It isn't as if it came out of thin air, you know that. It was inspired by your suggestion that I learn to clean the fireplaces, I already said as much. A pretty pathetic suggestion, by the way — it wasn't difficult to improve upon it."

Sebastian dipped his chin. "Yes. It's almost as if you deserve the credit."

"I don't need something as serious as 'credit' when I was only fooling around."

"Hmm, well, what say we call it a joint effort, then?"

One side of Ciel's mouth tugged down with mock regret. "Or what say we don't…"

What audacity! And yet Sebastian found he took the slight on the chin, with a smile and a slow shake of his head. "Benevolent as ever, you are," he eventually chastised, fond.

Ciel seemed grudgingly unable to help half-smiling back in response. He cleared his throat. "All right, all right, enough joking. Are we calling it off or not?"

"Absolutely not." Sebastian popped to his feet. "On the contrary. I intend to double my efforts."

"Good. You'd better." Ciel settled back against the chair with the tea clutched comfortably in his hand. "If you couldn't do this much, what kind of a butler would you be… isn't that right?"

The boy was back to brandishing sarcasm at him, but the cut of its edge was dulled. They were on the same team again. They could keep moving forward, together. "Exactly right, young master."

One quick check on all the manor fires. Back downstairs to the kitchen. A single clap of his hands to gain the room's attention.

"Everyone, listen now. We've got a lot of work to do, so let's get to it, full steam ahead. Mey-Rin, raise your head. Bard, look alive. Finny— Where is Finny? Never mind, I'll sort that out later. Have we thought of anything yet? What've you got, Mey-Rin?"

Mey-Rin flustered at this change in energy. "E-E-Eh, well! So far all I have is… perhaps I-I could show the young master how I clean my rifles… I know he likes to hunt on occasion, s-so it might interest him, right?"

Sebastian gave her a solid nod. "It might, it's a start. But let's keep that in our back pocket. I wonder if we can think of something more pleasant. Were there ever any games you used to play growing up?"

Mey-Rin grimaced. "Ehm… Games, you say… Eh, y'see, I didn't really have much time for games when I was a girl… Or, if I did have time, never the energy or desire…" Her eyes seemed to lose their sheen.

"It's all right if none come to mind," Sebastian reassured. "Just give it a bit of thought. Bard, that's enough napping. Think of your soldier days and snap to attention."

Snap to attention he did, with a cut-off snore and a jolt of his head. "Hah, what, what?! What's burning?"

"It's time you thought about what you're going to teach the young master tomorrow," Sebastian reminded. "Mey-Rin is trying to think of a game. Can you think of any games you could teach?"

Bard smoothed his fingers through his hair. "A game, huh… Dunno if I know any games the master doesn't know already. Only games in my arsenal are card games, and even then it's just poker, gin, and war. Little bit a' pitch, too, but I don't think I remember how to teach it. Bet the young master knows all those. Oh, in my soldier days, I wasn't too bad at gambling, though. I could teach him some good strategies."

Mey-Rin's posture jumped. "Eh, wait, I might not know any games but I used to watch my boss gamble! Let me have that one instead, Bard, please, I'm desperate."

"Sorry, Mey, but you can't have much of an aptitude for gambling if you're bettin' that I'll give you this."

Sebastian willed away his impatience. "Nobody is going to be teaching gambling to a fourteen-year-old boy. Keep that in your sights and think: what sorts of things did you enjoy at his age?"

Bard made a face as if to say such memories had been long left behind. "Geez, lemme see… At his age, I'd been outta the schoolhouse for at least a year or two. I was needed on the farm. But I didn't mind learnin' the family trade. Fourteen's around when boys don't want to be treated like boys anymore. And it made me feel more like a man to be counted on with the big jobs, y'know? So I wasn't really much of one for playin' at anything except adulthood."

Playing at adulthood, hm? Sounds like someone I know. Though it was fascinating to learn that Bard had too stopped wanting to be a child at Ciel's age. Perhaps it was a more universal human experience than Sebastian had realized. "Then, when did work feel most like play?"

Bard massaged at his neck, twisting it. "Hmm… When did it feel most like play…" He closed one eye. "I guess… Sometimes we would turn work into a competition… Who could do something the fastest, or go at it the longest… Sometimes there'd even be some kinda prize. A little bit a' money, maybe… just a few pennies. Well, you can bet me and my friends and cousins would all go nuts then, because a penny nets you quite a bit of candy from—"

"Ah! That's it!" Mey-Rin was jolting upright in her chair. Bard and Sebastian stared at her, blinking. "P-Pennies!" she explained, a blush overcoming her with the realization of her own interruption. "I forgot about the pennies!"

"You have something, then?" Sebastian said.

Mey-Rin nodded so fervently, it was a wonder her glasses stayed on. "Yes! I-I think I do!"

"It's not just her." Bard had a keen half-grin pulling at his cheek. "I think I'm cooking something up too… Something every teenaged boy ought to know if he wants a little respect in a cow town."

This would have to be the first impressive thing he's ever 'cooked up.' "Well done, both of you. Let's hear your ideas."

It only took about ten minutes for chef and maid to explain and plan their lessons. The concepts were very simple, but that was a part of their charm. They would certainly be relatively easy to pull off indoors. Would they interest the young master? Perhaps… but they would almost definitely challenge his perception of "what a noble ought to learn." And no doubt give him a little push outside the realm of his expertise to boot.

"Now that we have the both of you sorted," Sebastian said, "do you happen to know where I could locate Finny?"

With his chin, Bard gestured over his shoulder. "Aww, pretty sure the poor kid slinked off to the barn to have a think. I woulda followed him but I'm all laid up here. This order's really eatin' him. I think he's feelin' like he's got nothin' to offer." Bard pressed the edge of his hand to the side of his mouth, as if he were sharing a secret. "And t'be honest… I don't know what he's gonna do myself. Kid's no idiot, but he's at a real disadvantage here."

Mey-Rin nodded. "It's true! I was trying to think of something for him to teach, I was, but I couldn't come up with a single thing," she whispered. "Poor lamb. And rotten luck but I'm stuck at the table too. Neither of us are much good at the moment, we aren't."

"I see." Sebastian fixed his gaze in the direction of the stable. "I suppose I shall be the one to check in with him then."

Sebastian strode through the long tack room into the lantern-lit stables. Finny was visible right away. He was standing in the space between Irish and Avalon's stalls, feeding them chunks of an apple and petting their snouts. Syson wasn't jealous for once: he only had eyes for Ciel, and he faced the wall and flicked his tail in a blatant show of uncaring. But the two companionable horses were perfectly content with attention from whoever was happy to supply it. They sniffed at Finny's hands. They lapped apple from his fingers and leaned into his familiar touch. Finny broke off another piece of the hard fruit as easily as if he were tearing paper.

"I hope you are keeping that injury safe, as I requested," Sebastian said by way of announcing himself.

Finny didn't turn to look at him. Instead, his eyelids tightened. "Sorry. I sort of forgot. I guess I'm doing that wrong too…" He sniffled and obliged Avalon's curiosity with more of the apple.

Sebastian walked over to stand beside him. "I assume that you haven't had any luck thinking of a lesson for the young master."

Finny's arms fell to his sides, his head to his chest. The horses nosed at him hopefully, but Finny remained unmoving. His voice was very quiet when he eventually spoke. "Mr. Sebastian, I… I know it's not unusual for me to make a mistake… I make them every day… but… but I've never disobeyed one of the young master's orders before." Another sniffle and a swipe at his cheek. "But everything I've ever learned was taught to me by someone here… There's nothing I know that the young master doesn't already understand. I'm not even so good a gardener that I can teach him my trade. I've killed more things than I've grown, you know that. So, you see, Mr. Sebastian? I can't follow this order! I'm going to fail the young master! I'm going to fail him for the first time and then he'll tell me I have to leave!"

Finny was looking up now, tears streaming down his cheeks, which had grown a few freckles in this year's summer sun. Ciel's tears may have been a surprising sight at the Funtom convention, but Finny's weren't quite so elusive. He wore his every emotion on his sleeve. And typically Sebastian felt that helping Finny manage his strong emotions was outside his area of expertise. But right now, this expression of grief didn't feel beyond him. It felt interesting and alive. It felt like a delicate thing to be cupped gently in his hands.

Sebastian crouched to one knee, just as he had learned to do with Ciel. "Do you really believe you're going to be dismissed from here?" he asked.

Finny rubbed at his upper arm. "I-I don't know… I mean, I know the young master is the most generous person in the whole world, but… but it would be understandable if this made him so upset that he never wanted to see me again, wouldn't it?"

"No, it wouldn't," Sebastian explained. "It would be unkind and unfair. But the young master isn't going to send you anywhere. You don't have to fear that." He paused. "You had to fear that in the facility you grew up in, is that it?"

Finny scrunched his eyes in thought. "Well, I… I think I did. Sometimes my friends would disappear and I'd never see them again. I never really understood why. I'd have to come up with the reason on my own. Sometimes I think it was because they didn't take their injections well or because they didn't eat all their food. But I never really knew. I would just try not to cause any fuss at all and do everything our handlers told us to do."

Ahh. "Then it would make a lot of sense that you're putting so much stock into this order," Sebastian explained. Finny blinked at him tearily. "You've never disobeyed the young master before. I know this is mainly because you're a very loyal person and because the young master does not usually ask things of you that you are incapable of. But it stands to reason that your obedience is inspired by fear of the unknown."

Finny's tears had started to lessen. Despite everything he had been through, he was as trusting as a child, and he was listening to what he was being told. "Wow, Mr. Sebastian," he said after a pause. "That's so smart… I never thought about it so clearly. I was just so busy thinking about how I was scared and a failure, that I didn't bother to think about how my fears were all made up! The young master would never ever tell me to leave. I'm so silly."

Sebastian found himself smiling subtly. If only my lord could come around so easily. "You aren't being silly, Finny; you arrived at a logical conclusion based on the way you were raised. There was nothing wrong with how you came to believe what you did, but now you have something better to replace the old belief with. As long as you care about the young master, you will always have a home here. You understand, yes?"

Almost too quick for even a demon to acknowledge, Finny flung his arms wide and hugged Sebastian around his head. "Mr. Sebastian, you're so nice to me! I'm feeling much better now, all thanks to you! I'm so sorry that I ever doubted the young master's generosity! I won't do it ever again, not ever!"

"Good to hear," Sebastian mumbled. "Now, do remember, Finny, that if you hugged a normal person the way you are hugging me now, you would have dented their skull irreparably."

"Uh-oh! Oopsy!" was the overly relaxed response. Finny freed him from the hold, and Sebastian massaged at his neck but… ah well, it could have been worse. "Sorry about that! Ah, but Mr. Sebastian, I still can't just give up so easily, can I? What am I going to teach? I really can't think of anything!"

"Hmm…" Sebastian stood tall again, put a hand on his hip. Yes, this truly was a tough one… and he did have sympathy for Finny's plight. As they'd just discussed, Mey-Rin and Bard had had lives before coming to the manor. Finny essentially started living the day he met Ciel. And he had been very much like a baby at first. Sebastian had needed to instruct him in everything, not just how to keep his strength in check: how to eat properly, how to care for himself properly, how to dress himself properly, and of course how to hold objects without immediately crushing them in his iron grip. Finny had been a willing pupil. He had begun to grasp all of these lessons during his first few days in the manor, and moved on to speaking and reading English by the next week. He may have lacked a green thumb, but in truth he did not lack overall competence.

Ciel and Finny… both had taught Sebastian something very important: children were naturally designed to be resilient. It was no longer any surprise to this demon that the most tenacious contract he'd ever made in his life was with a ten-year-old boy.

Just as unsurprising, Sebastian supposed, was that growing up was the thing to threaten this resilience for Ciel.

A voice broke into his thoughts. "Mr. Sebastian? You're really quiet. Does that mean you thought of something?"

Sebastian came back into the present moment. He granted the young man he'd helped to raise a look of aplomb. "As a matter of fact, I did."

Finny clenched his fists and began bouncing with joy. "Really?! I can't believe it! I mean, if anyone can do it, it would be you, Mr. Sebastian, because you can do anything, but I'm still really, really surprised! What did you think of?! What is it?!"

Sebastian tapped his chin. "I'll tell you… but: only after you let the young master know that you couldn't come up with a lesson on your own."

That had Finny deflating at once. "Ohhhh, but Mr. Sebaaastian, I've already been thinking about it so much! I'm not smart enough to come up with anything. Won't you please, please, please tell me? I can't let the young master find out…"

Sebastian placed his hand atop Finny's head and offered it another reassuring scratch. "Give yourself more credit than that. You have everything you need to figure it out right in here. And come what may, there's no need to fret. Either you'll think up the lesson plan on your own or you'll be given one when you decide to come clean. But I do believe in you all the same. Don't let yourself become a prisoner to doubt."

"Aww… mm. Okay…" Finny made a face like he could already see doubt coming at him with the handcuffs. "I'll keep trying to think… yeah… Because I really, really don't want to let the young master down… So… Even though I feel like I'm going to throw up every single thing I ate today and yesterday… I'll keep trying."

"Very good. I trust you'll do just fine."

Ciel scratched at his arms through his nightshirt like they were itchy. "I'm starting to feel gross," he whined, irritable. "If the lightning continues into tomorrow, I don't care what you say. I'm overruling you and demanding a bath."

"It's as I told you, sir: you can still take a bath." Sebastian began preparing the bed for sleep. "It's just that it would have to be a sponge bath."

"I refuse. I hate sponge baths. They're too cumbersome. One was enough during the last mission. You can't make me do it again."

Sponge baths were quite the recommended way of bathing in this day and age, so Sebastian supposed he had no one to blame but himself for Ciel's insistence on using the tub — after all, years ago Sebastian was the one to inform him such baths were really much more hygienic, despite other humans insisting that fully submerging one's body was to be done cautiously. "Ten minutes of inconvenience is hardly a price to pay for your own safety…"

"I'd be fine, it's not like people get electrocuted through their pipes every time it storms. The real price I'm paying is for your peace of mind," Ciel grumbled, ambling onto the mattress.

Sebastian paused, then smiled. "Well… maybe so." Ciel finished settling into a sleeping position, waiting silently for Sebastian to pull the covers over him. After doing so, Sebastian held out his palm. "I see you've forgotten to take off your rings, sir."

"Oh, right. Here." Ciel worked them off his middle finger and thumb; his ring fingers were still too thin for the job of keeping the jewelry secure, but they grew closer every day. He let them tumble into Sebastian's palm to be placed on the nightstand. "Mn… Sebastian?"

The shadows around Ciel's eyes danced as the kerosene lamp was picked up to be extinguished. "Yes, young master?"

A second time, the pressing question that only came up before bedtime seemed to dissolve in the boy's mouth like spun sugar. "... Never mind."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

Still not to be. "As you say… Well, young master, I very much look forward to hearing all about how your lessons go tomorrow at afternoon tea."

With an almost startled air, Ciel raised his head off his favored pillow. "Wait, what do you mean? Aren't you going to be helping the servants throughout?"

"Unfortunately, I can't spare a second." Sebastian smiled sadly. "There's far too much to be done around the house, and I'm the only one left who can do it. I will check in from time to time, but those three will hardly need me. You'll see. And I'll be very curious to hear if everything went according to plan."

Ciel glared at him. "It won't. You know how they are. They need constant guidance or else they fall apart."

"That is often true," Sebastian conceded. "But tomorrow is going to be different from the usual. Of course, you can always call for me, and I'll be there shortly to help. But I think you'll be surprised at how little assistance they'll need."

Ciel rolled his eyes at the same time he rolled onto his side. "If you're saying that, then I really will be surprised."

"You certainly aren't wrong there." Sebastian snuffed out the lamp. "Goodnight, young master. I'll see you in the morning for… some sort of bath."

"I'm not taking a sponge bath and you can't make me."

"All right, all right, I can't make you…"

With the door closed behind him, Sebastian recollected that he too hadn't shared something with Ciel today: namely, his wavering feelings around what to do with Ciel's soul. Sebastian closed his eyes. Maybe Finny's interruption in the conservatory had been a blessing in disguise. Sebastian hadn't felt entirely ready to divulge that personal information to Ciel yet… and he knew it was unlikely to be faced with acceptance. He needed more time to sort himself out, to get his words in order — to prepare himself for that difficult conversation with a person who was not always easy for him to read.

Did the young master feel this way too, when it came to sharing his trauma?

Sebastian ventured off down the hallway. There was still so much work to be done…

In the early morning hours, the thunder's distant stampede finally ceased, and the wind was free to sing its lament with only the rain's timpani to join in. Thus, the bath could be handled without disagreement. But after being dressed in an ensemble of lightweight brushed cotton, Ciel had to comment on the last item of his wardrobe: "Why are you putting me in tennis shoes? What am I going to be doing that would require these? I thought you said everything necessary for the lessons was set up in the kitchen."

Sebastian finished tying the laces in a loose single knot. "Even though you'll be indoors, you may just find athletic footwear to be helpful today, sir."

"What do you—? Wait. Don't tell me." Ciel groaned. "There's going to be some sort of physical activity? And in the kitchen, of all places? But everyone is injured! They shouldn't be able to move much!"

Sebastian looked at Ciel sulking and couldn't help it. He chuckled, raising an eyebrow in mock-surprise. "Surely this isn't the same boy who spent an entire month training to become a jockey? Come now, I know you can manage this. The servants have created something quite unique for you, and you may find that a bit of calisthenics will do you good after several days of being shut indoors. If I thought anyone was going to injure themselves all over again, I would have put up a stipulation." Though those three could probably manage it…

Ciel still moped at him bitterly. "I didn't like the jockey training. I only did it because I had to. If this is designed to make a fool out of me, I'm going to be upset."

Sebastian adjusted the lapels of the boy's jacket and offered him a reassuring look. "No one is interested in making a fool of you. They are only interested in teaching you about a part of themselves. I can't speak to how you will feel in the midst of these lessons, but Bard and Mey-Rin are really very excited to show you what they know, so you must trust that no one is going to laugh at you."

Ciel made a puzzled face. "Wait a moment, what about Finny?"

"Finny has a lesson to teach you too," Sebastian explained, "and I think he will be excited to teach it. He simply doesn't know what his lesson is yet."

The prior expression only deepened. "Wha…?"

Sebastian stood to his feet. "You'll soon see, young master. And… do bare in mind what I said. No one is interested in making a fool out of you. That includes myself."

Ciel glared at him for a long moment, clearly trying to parse something out. Finally, he said, "You told me that you're too busy to oversee all of the lessons, so at least start your chores in the kitchen. That way you can make certain this gets off the ground properly and step in if it doesn't."

He really wants me to be nearby, doesn't he? Sebastian felt such a sense of endearment; his face surely reflected it. He put a hand to his chest and bowed just so. "Yes, my lord," he promised.

Everything necessary for the lessons had indeed been set up in the kitchen. Such simple preparations were easily completed that very morning, but still Finny had watched Bard and Mey-Rin go about it with mounting apprehension. "Ohhh, Mr. Sebastian, what am I going to dooo? " He'd approached wringing his hands. "I still haven't thought of anything to teach the young master! If you hadn't given me that definitely-guaranteed-to-fall-asleep potion last night after you switched my bandages, I probably would've stayed up until sunrise panicking about it! Please don't make me tell him the truth. I'm not ready."

From his periphery, Sebastian had sensed Bard eying him. "This may surprise you, but I also know a thing or two or about not feeling ready to say something," he'd confessed. Finny cocked his head at him. "But I think it will be good for you to see how readily you are accepted for this struggle. There isn't anything to fear. I promise."

Finny rocked on his heels, doubtful. "Mm, okay, if you say so…"

"I know you may be feeling avoidant of the young master," Sebastian emphasized, "but the key to discovering your lesson may just lie in paying attention to him. Understood?"

"Ehhh? … Oh! A hint! You're giving me a hint!" Finny saluted, again with his good hand. "U-Understood! I mean, sort of! I have no idea what I'm looking for but I will definitely be looking! I will be looking better than I've ever looked in my entire life!"

"Good. Go help Mey-Rin finish setting up her display, then."

After Finny scampered off, Bard had cleared his throat. "'Definitely-guaranteed-to-fall-asleep potion,' huh?"

"It was just warm milk, honey, and a bit of chamomile tea." Sebastian had smiled at him primly. "His imagination did the rest. You might call it a placebo."

"I was actually hoping you'd call it whiskey," Bard admitted.

Sebastian's smile flopped. "Beg your pardon?"

"Then I'd put in an order tonight myself," Bard had said hopefully.

"The bar is closed," Sebastian had said flatly.

Now it was eleven on the dot, and he was arriving back in the kitchen with the young master leading the way. The servants were already gathered and waiting just inside the open door frame as Ciel walked in, all of them grinning with various degrees of nervous apprehension. The young master observed this and made a slight laugh.

"Today should be fun," he announced, sounding perhaps a little too ominous with his inflection. Then, with a businesslike clip, "I see no reason why we should delay. Who's going to be my first tutor?"

Bard looked at Mey-Rin. Mey-Rin looked at Finny. Finny looked at Ciel very, very hard.

Ciel looked back. "What's this about? Why are you staring at me like that?"

Finny flinched. "I'm! Um… It's… Ahahahaha! Wow, I'm just so excited! Isn't everybody so excited? I'm actually so excited that I should probably go, um, last." Finny's face abruptly became one of dread.

"..." After a long moment, Ciel sighed. "I don't care who's going last. Which of you is going first? Someone had better step up or I'll choose for you."

Another few seconds of quiet passed. "... All right then, all right. Age before beauty." Bard was the one to volunteer. He headed towards the work table for the lariat he'd left there last night. "Get ready to move, now, 'cause I'm gonna be teachin' you all how to lasso."

"How to lasso?" Sebastian could hear the hint of disappointment in Ciel's voice already, so reluctant to exercise. "Are you sure you'll be able to teach that with your leg in its condition?"

Bard waved him off, no doubt to Ciel's dismay. "The bone and muscles are fine, I can still walk. Just a bit uncomfortable, that's all. Besides, we won't be on horseback or nothin', so this is mostly goin' to be the work of your arms."

Ciel wasn't yet done giving him a hard time. "And you really thought you'd teach a person with one eye an activity that's entirely based on the ability to aim? That sure was an interesting idea."

Mey-Rin gasped lightly when Ciel said that, no doubt thinking of her own lesson. The professor's sense of humor lined up with his pupil's, though, and Bard knew how to joke back. "Hey now, I've seen Sebastian trussing up the very birds you've shot down! Your aim is perfectly fine; you've got a knack for it if anything. But aim isn't all you're gonna need. That's only one part of the equation. Now, everyone, stand in a row right here."

At his instruction, Mey-Rin, Finny, and Ciel arranged themselves so they were lined up with the edge of the work table but not behind it, facing instead the open avenue between the table and the wall. Meanwhile, Sebastian traveled over to the knife rack on the other side of the room, and removed the carving knives one at a time for sharpening. Five minutes should be enough to see this maiden voyage off. Then the young master shouldn't complain if I get on to the fires.

Bard stood before his students at the opposite end of the avenue, with his arms behind his back like a commanding officer. "All right, all right, settle down and pay attention," Bard announced, with a certain theatrical self-importance that said to Sebastian he was mimicking some prior instructor in his life. Bard stretched the lariat out between his hands. "My name is Professor Bardroy, esquire. For the extent of this lesson, you shall address me thusly."

Ciel folded his arms. "'Esquire?' What are you supposed to be, a professor or a lawyer?"

"I… both," said Bard. He cleared his throat. "All right, I'm neither. But I can do this." Bard then raised his arm above his head, swung the lasso in a few calculating circles, and released it to snag a stool he'd positioned between himself and his students. The loop shot out with the hovering precision of a fishing net, landed over the seat-top, and tightened underneath the lip before dragging it to the floor with a clatter.

"There ya have it," Bard said, smirking with one corner of his mouth. "That's what you're gonna learn today."

"Whoa! That was just amazing! " Finny sounded somewhere between enthusiastic and nauseated.

Mey-Rin put her hands together. "Oh, yes! Very impressive!"

"As well as destructive and loud," Ciel grumbled.

Sebastian snickered to himself as he finished soaking the whetstone. It was always cathartic to see someone else be faced with the boy's bad attitude for a change.

"Eh, sorry!" Bard scratched the back of his neck. "I didn't have to do that last bit where I pulled it down, that was just for show. N' maybe you aren't inspired yet, but just wait'll you see how you feel when you get lassoin' right for the first time. It'll send shivers right up your arm! Now."

Bard raised his hand. "First, we'll try without the rope," he said. "Dominant arms up, above your head. I wanna see you all copying my movements. This will feel more natural with a rope in your hands, but first you need a little practice so you don't immediately slap yourselves in the head with it."

Two-thirds of the audience eagerly raised their hands. The remaining third did so warily.

"Okay, so: pay attention to my wrist." Bard used his left hand to gesture as his right hand began to spin in a counterclockwise motion. "Notice the way that I'm swiveling it? It's tight and controlled — but then, see, I flick back with my fingers when I get towards my head." The movement was slowed down so it could be analyzed more closely. "That's what keeps the rope from hittin' me. Now, look at my elbow. It's loose, and moving easily… that's where the flexibility is. The wrist is the control, the elbow is what winds it up. Don't worry if you don't get it perfect. You'll feel it better once you're holding a lariat."

"I already feel a bit silly doing this…" Ciel admitted. His wrist was twisting in lazy, inconsistent circles that had Sebastian fending off an endeared laugh — the whispered scraping of the knife on carborundum wouldn't be enough to cover the sound.

Bard folded his arms and shook his head. "Come on, now, you're the one who wanted a lesson! You're not gonna learn it with that defeatist attitude, so says I, Professor Bardroy, esquire." He paused to chuckle. "Heheh… Hoo boy, if my old cowpunchin' pards could hear me now, they'd be catchin' flies."

"Your accent is getting thicker the more you talk about this," Ciel noted.

Bard clapped his hands. "Hey, are you tryin' to distract the professor? Let's focus on practice! I can't give ya a rope until I'm sure you're not gonna let it go flyin' straight away!"

Ciel half-heartedly did as he was told, though he was already back to whining. "But I don't like doing this without a rope… It makes me feel silly."

"It's okay, young master! We're all doing it together!" Finny chirped. There was nothing half-hearted about his twirling.

Mey-Rin was putting her all into it as well. "Quite right, we're a team! Nearly movin' in time, we are… Oh, this is just like a dance those Starlight Four boys would be doing up on stage!"

Ciel's arm dropped immediately. "Why did you have to say that? Why did you have to make me think about that right now?"

"This ain't dancin'," Bard scolded. "This is lassoin'. And there's nothin' embarrassing about it. Out in the field, this is what separates boys from men. Or girls from women in your case, Mey," he added when she shot him a look.

"Maybe that's true when you're on horseback, lassoing actual cattle," Ciel said grudgingly. "What are we going to lasso today that would even compare to that?"

"Hey, ya gotta take it slow. Everybody starts with the basics." But Ciel wasn't even keen on the basics; his right arm hung motionless at his side. Bard moved over to help him. "Aw, no need to be so reluctant, young master. I'll guide you through the motion if you'll give me your hand. That all right?" After a moment, Ciel conceded with the shortest nod, then widened his eyes as his arm was hoisted up in the air. "There we go! See, just like this. Instead of leadin' with your pinky, you lead with your thumb and index finger… and make the motion diagonal, kinda sweeping. You feel that? Sorta easy and rhythmic, right? That's how it should feel all the time."

Ciel watched Bard's hand as it manipulated his own high above him. "Fine, but I'm probably going to do it all wrong again as soon as you let go…" he mumbled.

Bard chuckled softly. "Yeah, probably. But that's all part of learnin' to get it right. And besides, I gotta get this pair a' geese on-track." He jutted his chin over at Mey-Rin and Finny, who had seemed to completely forget the lesson and were instead trying to reenact what they could remember of their favorite concert.

"Hey!" Ciel swung his head around while Bard continued to rotate his wrist. "That's enough already, I'm serious! If you can both prance around like that, either you aren't taking your injuries seriously enough, or you're healed and you should be able to do your jobs! Especially you, Mey-Rin, I thought you sprained your ankle. You should really be minding that it doesn't get any worse. Does everyone understand me?"

They did. "S-Sorry, young master!" "Won't happen again, really!"

"Good." Doubt flashed across Ciel's face when Bard suddenly let go of his hand and he was forced to keep revolving it by himself. He stared at his own movements with fierce concentration, as if willing his hand to get it right. "But you didn't answer my previous question, Bard. What the hell are we going to be lassoing?"

Bard was helping Mey-Rin to the same demonstration he'd just finished with Ciel. "You're gonna be lassoin' the kitchen stools too, only to make it easier, I'll turn 'em upside-down so the legs are in the air. It's better for beginners to have something particular to lasso onto, just like a steer's horns."

Sebastian smirked merrily to himself as Ciel continued to give Bard a hard time. "Hmm… But don't you think lassoing stools sounds a bit boring? "

"Ehh, uh, does it?" Bard stuttered. Sebastian kept grinning in the background. Oh, he really didn't want to have to leave now, when the entertainment was just starting to get good… But alas, those fires wouldn't light themselves. Sebastian began to slide the knives back into the narrow slots of their block.

"Mhm. Quite boring," Ciel drawled. Sebastian's ear twitched. Wait a moment. "But you know… I've thought of something that would make it rather not boring." That's his scheming voice. "Do you mind if I suggest an alteration to the lesson, Professor Bardroy, esquire?" Oh no. I need to get out of here.

The last knife was put promptly in its holster. Please, Bard, stall him. "Welllll, since you bothered to address me properly… by all means! What've ya got?"

Bard was no help. Sebastian hastened for the exit. "I was wondering, professor, don't you think it would be much more realistic if we lassoed something alive instead?" Ciel asked.

Nearly at its threshold— "Alive? You want me to get one of the horses in here?!"

One foot into the hall— "No, no, nothing like that. Don't be silly." Just one more step— "Oh, Sebastian, were you about to leave? I have something else in mind for you now. Over here. That's an order. "

Those words froze Sebastian in place like there was an actual lasso tethering him to the room. It was too late to get away now. He had been snared.

"My lord, I already told you that I am going to be far too busy today to help with the lessons…!" Sebastian called sternly from his new position in front of them.

Ciel responded with the vulpine smile that was becoming an unfortunate signature of his. "Really? You don't look very busy to me," he called back.

Sebastian opened his mouth and closed it again, exasperated. Now really, there was no call for that. It was bad enough that he'd been almost literally roped into helping. But on top of that, Bard had explained that Sebastian was far too tall for beginners to lasso… and Ciel had promptly come up with a solution.

Bard was chewing the nail of his thumb nervously as he observed said 'solution.' "Geez, this is too bizarre…"

"Yes, I agree!" Sebastian snipped. "Certainly unbecoming for an esteemed butler to be the subject of lasso practice … Really, now."

Bard shook his head. "No, no, I meant it's bizarre to see you sitting on a stool. Let alone anything. I think this is the first time I've ever witnessed it."

"He doesn't seem like he's used to it…" Mey-Rin added aside to Finny, who nodded.

Sebastian opened his mouth and closed it again. Oh, why even bother? Ciel's own mouth remained split wide in a show of satisfaction.

"I think I'm ready to try with the rope now, Professor Bardroy," he said smugly.

Sebastian had found it a very sweet thought, initially, that Ciel had wanted him nearby, but really, now was not the time to be playing games…! Even with the young master's permission to let all non-essential chores slide for the day, there was still a lot that was troublesome to let wait. The fires weren't just necessary for keeping the house warm: they were also necessary for warding away damp, which, unattended, could lead to the far worse and far more cumbersome mold. Mold did not set in automatically, of course, but an ounce of prevention… And that wasn't all! The gas lamps were equally finicky things that required a fair bit of attention to keep them from becoming a greater fire hazard than Bard. Well, only a few of the hallways were lit right now, but… but there was no arguing that the horses couldn't wait! Of course, all six had been fed and watered that morning, so nothing in that regard was entirely pressing, and Sebastian wasn't really eager for the chore of cleaning their stalls, it was in fact his least favorite, but… Regardless! This was undignified, he was busy, and the young master was outright refusing to respect that!

"This rope feels much stiffer than I was expecting," Ciel said as it was handed to him. "It kind of hurts to hold it…"

"Guess you lost all the calluses you gained from those riding drills you used to do," Bard tsked. "Ah, well. No time like the present to build 'em back up. Anyway, for the next part of the lesson, stand here."

Bard helped direct Ciel so that he was centered right in front of Sebastian. Ciel appeared uncertain again, clutching the rope by the knot of the loop, but when he looked at his target, his blue eye flashed with schadenfreude. Sebastian gazed back in a way that he hoped said, You are the most important thing in my world. But you are a wicked little imp all the same and I don't appreciate this. Ciel must have at least picked up on the second thought, because his grin returned.

"Now remember what I taught you about the windup." Bard warded Finny and Mey-Rin a distance off. "Diagonal and sweeping, guide with your thumb and second finger, and flick back so you don't hit yourself in the head. Give it a go."

Ciel was walking a mental tightrope, constantly switching between the confidence of torturing his butler and the hesitation around trying something new. "I'm just… starting? Just like that?"

"That's right. Go on. Get a feel for the lariat, now."

Ciel made a bitter face. Swallowed. Then he leaned his head far to the side and began swinging, slowly working the rope up to a steady speed that would keep it airborne. Mey-Rin and Finny made for an encouraging audience, as nearly anything impressed them, gasping and exclaiming under their breath at this performance.

"Am I doing it properly?" Ciel asked, nervous.

Bard answered with a return question. "Not hitting yourself in the head, are you?"

"Uh, no…"

"Then you're doing somethin' right. Congrats."

"Oh, congratulations, young master!" "Yes, good job!" the peanut gallery chimed in.

Ciel scarcely acknowledged the praise. "Okay, fine, I got it. Hooray. Now can we get to the part where I lasso this git before my arm gets sore?"

"'This git?'" said Sebastian.

"A'right, so," Bard walked over to Ciel's shoulder, "can you feel the place in your rotation where the rope seems to want to leave your fingers? That's where it'll naturally let fly if you allow it. So just work yourself up to a good speed and then when your hand's pointed the way you want — release!"

Ciel didn't release. "That's really it?"

"Yeah, that's really it. Go on, then! Let's see what happens."

Sebastian watched with mild anticipation as the rope was whirled a few more times before fatigue won out against trepidation and the lasso flew… past its target and too much to the right. Ciel had not only overcompensated for his blind side, there was too much force in the gesture as well.

Ciel grimaced. "... Well, that was terrible." Sebastian found himself offering an encouraging smile, then wiped it off with a little shake of his head. He's trying to hit me with a rope and humiliate me! Why should I pity him?! Once again, Sebastian had to marvel at the strange emotion that was love… At times, it truly seemed the antithesis of practicality and self-preservation.

"But it went so far!" Finny tried.

"Oh yes, it did!" Mey-Rin agreed.

Ciel's grip tightened on the rope. "Don't say that. I hate being placated."

"Wasn't so bad for your first try, really," said Bard. "Come on, reel 'er in. I can tell you exactly what you did wrong." Slowly, Ciel did as he was told. Bard began to mime holding a rope. "You were doing just fine through most of it, but then at the last second, you changed your technique and chucked it like you were throwin' a baseball. That won't do ya any good. You gotta have a little faith that if you just let it go, the momentum will carry it through. The aim and precision'll come with practice."

Ciel finished collecting the lasso, brooding. "Someone else should have a turn. Maybe if I see it done correctly, I'll get it right next time."

Oh, don't give up so soon, Sebastian found himself thinking, though maybe that was simply because the others would have far more power behind their attempts.

"Aw, well, if you insist, sir." Bard gestured with his arm. "Hey, Mey! Get on over here!"

"O-O-Oh, me? Eh, a-all right, I s'pose…"

Now the world's clumsiest maid was trying her hand at it… And though she was no Finny, Mey-Rin was very strong, possibly even as strong as Bard, and her accuracy with a weapon was beyond remarkable — it was the very thing that earned her a position under their occasionally-leaky roof. But a lasso was not a rifle, and Sebastian was not so far away that Mey-Rin's aim could be improved by removing her glasses. Sebastian was right in the line of fire, and the windup had already begun.

"All right, you got it turning at a good speed. Now, at the right moment — release!"

Mey-Rin did not hesitate. At Bard's word, she let go of the rope.

Sebastian was the only one in the room who saw life so clearly that the fastest things weren't a blur. The rope being launched at him was surely a blur to the others. But Sebastian could analyze its exact trajectory and velocity to know where that rope was going to end up. It was going to do what Bard had taught his pupils not to let the rope do to themselves. It was going to falter and hit him in the head. Hard.

So Sebastian leaned out of the way.

The rope sailed off over his shoulder instead, thudding solidly to the floor. Sebastian sat upright again with an air of self-satisfaction.

"Oh," said Mey-Rin.

"Hey," said Ciel.

"Oh no, Mr. Sebastian! You aren't supposed to move!" said Finny.

"Yeah, it looked like it was gonna be spot on, too," said Bard.

Sebastian's eyelids lowered. "It wasn't going to be spot on. It was going to drop down and cuff me right between the eyes."

"While that sounds exactly like the definition of 'spot on' to me," said Ciel, "we'll unfortunately never know for sure. Don't move away from the rope again, that's another order."

Sebastian sighed. "Young master, never mind the moving away… There is truly so much that needs to be done around the house this afternoon. I request that you let me leave and get to it."

"We already talked about this yesterday," Ciel said, folding his arms. "Go ahead and keep throwing the lasso, Mey-Rin."

"Ehhh? But I…"

"I understand that you disagree with me," Sebastian said as evenly as he could, "but the truth is that the house needs maintenance, and I'm the only one who can handle it."

Ciel did not struggle with keeping his voice even. "The horses are cared for, yesterday's damages were repaired… Nothing sounds all that pressing to me. Mey-Rin, it's fine, really, keep practicing."

"Uhhh… well… I-If'n you say so, sir…"

"The fires, for one thing, need attention or else the entire house will grow cold." Sebastian tilted his chin down, trying to communicate with his eyes as well as his voice. Young master, have a little sympathy. I'm doing my best here. "And without the fires, damp and mold can develop behind the wallpaper and in the furniture."

Ciel clucked his tongue. "You're being ridiculous. Damp doesn't set in that quickly. And we have a fire in here, so we'll all stay warm."

"Even so, this storm is unpredictable. Things can change in a heartbeat, and someone needs to be minding that they don't."

"Nothing here needs constant attention. An hour or two of your day isn't going to turn this place into a rat's nest."

"An hour or—? Young master, I cannot spare that much time!"

"Why? Honestly, what would happen if you did?"

"I can name several things!"

"Huh. Well, I really don't care to know any of them after all."

"But you may just get to know them if you don't immediately let me— aghhgh."

And there was the rope, as predicted, thumping him right between the eyes.

Sebastian had known it was coming. He was always aware of when projectiles were headed his way and could dodge each one with the midair twist of a weasel's war-dance. He could even absorb bullets and cough them back up, as if they were simply bezoars that had irritated his stomach. He would never have allowed the rope to hit him under normal circumstances. But Ciel had forbidden him from ducking. And so he'd been struck.

Sebastian had not been struck by anything in quite a while. Thus, the surprise of the feeling had caused him to make an involuntary sound of displeasure.

The rope slid off his face and fell to the kitchen tiles at his feet. A second passed.

"I'M SO SORRY! " Mey-Rin shrieked.

Sebastian heaved a sigh. "It's fine, you didn't m—"

"Pfffhahahahahaha! "

And then… this.

The storm of aggravation that had been brewing above Sebastian's head during the past ten minutes parted way for a sudden outburst of sunshine. It was a golden thing, too bright, too unexpected. It struck him like an urge to squint and yet Sebastian could not tear his gaze away.

The young master was laughing.

"That's the sound you make when something hits you?!" Ciel gawked at Sebastian, grinning hugely. "That's it? That was so miserable! There was nothing dignified about it at all!" And then Ciel laughed again, incandescent, a sound worthy of bringing every fire in the manor back to life.

This is the sound you make when something charms you? Sebastian thought. Even with the mean spirit behind it, there was no immunity from the boy's sheer delight and energy and youth. When was the last time I heard you laugh like this? Come to think of it, had he ever heard it before? Or… had he simply not cared enough to keep the memory close?

The other servants were eyeing the two of them strangely, likely curious if they were meant to jeer along with Ciel or remain stoic so as not to anger Sebastian further. But Sebastian was not sure he looked very angry right now. What he really felt was a sense of surprise and… wonderment. There were so many things he did not know it was possible to feel. Had the lasso found its mark? There was a rope constricting his chest.

"I can't believe that was really you!" Ciel gave one final, proud laugh, but the glee that was spread across his features didn't fade an ounce. He jabbed a finger in Sebastian's direction. "I won't ever let you forget this!"

So, that was really you. Sebastian watched, unblinking, as Ciel triumphantly coaxed Mey-Rin to try again. I won't ever let myself forget this.

The chores, however, could perhaps be forgotten just a bit longer.

The lasso lesson continued for another twenty minutes. From there on, Sebastian did as he was told: he made himself a proper target. He did not move, even when the rope was on a sure path to connect with his face; even when it was Finny taking a turn and the mistakes were more like wallops. The slapstick of it all no longer made Ciel laugh, but it did bring some levity to the practice that granted him confidence enough to try again. After all, the consequences of missing were lifted. And when eventually he didn't miss and the rope landed perfectly around his butler's shoulders—

Bard pumped his fist. "Ha-hey, there it is! You got it right on the money!"

Mey-Rin started clapping. "Oh, that was wonderful! Well done, young master!"

"Wow, you did it way faster than me! You're so good at this!" Finny cheered.

"It wasn't so very hard, really," said Ciel, a smirk testing the corners of his mouth as the servants celebrated all around him. Even with their clear enthusiasm, it was Sebastian that Ciel looked to, out of his periphery, as if unable to help it. In response, Sebastian rolled his eyes in a show of playful annoyance, then raised his brows and smiled. Well done, you. Ciel ducked his chin and turned quickly away.

Mey-Rin and Finny took a few more tries with the lariat while Ciel and Bard observed. "You must be a decent teacher, if all three of us got it right already," the boy said after a time.

Bard's expression turned shocked before he went about humbling himself. "Eh, it's not really the hardest thing to teach. And besides, you all are naturals!"

"You ought to just take the compliments that you earn," Ciel mumbled without much inflection. "But anyway, I think it's time we moved on to the next lesson. I'm starting to get curious about that set-up over there anyway."

Sebastian couldn't agree more — Finny had been about to launch the rope yet again and Mey-Rin's outcry fortunately interrupted it. "Ah! That'd be my lesson, it would!"

Just to the right of the kitchen entrance was a little alcove that was typically used to store the largest specialty cooking pans and bulk foods that weren't dependent on the cooler temperatures of the larder. The area had been mostly cleared out and now housed quite the arrangement. An old wooden shelving unit sat upon an older wooden table. Its four tiers were covered in several small white tents of folded cardstock. Behind that, Sebastian had hung a stretch of twine from two hooks on either side of the wall, and draped over that was a spare bedsheet, its length trailing all the way to the floor.

Ciel strolled over to inspect this odd miniature firing range for himself. "And just what lesson would this happen to be?"

"Ah, well, erm…" Mey-Rin scampered after him, patting her apron in search of the 'bullets' as she walked. "J-Just a second and I'll show you… Oh dear, where did I put the satchel…"

Meanwhile, Sebastian gratefully stood up from the stool, feeling much more comfortable on his own two legs. He had hardly a moment to enjoy the peace of it. Finny was already hurrying up to him, worry a sheen in his large eyes.

"Mr. Sebastian, it's going to be my turn after Mey-Rin's!" he cried quietly, so Ciel wouldn't overhear. "I still don't know what my lesson is going to be! Please, please, please won't you tell me now?"

Sebastian shook his head. "Not until you tell the young master the truth; that was our bargain. But I promise it will all be fine in the end, Finny. Just keep your chin down."

Finny blinked. "Ehhhh? Keep my chin down? Mr. Sebastian, don't you mean up? " Sebastian only lifted his eyebrows meaningfully. After a puzzled moment, Finny jolted to his tiptoes with realization. "Oh! It's another hint! I understand! So, I should keep my chin down … Okay… Keep my chin down… Keep my chin… down…"

With his chin down, Finny proceeded to walk directly into Bard's back, only earning him the mild response, "Watching out for spiders again, I see."

Admittedly, the clue wasn't perfectly helpful — yet. But Sebastian could see it wouldn't be unhelpful forever. He had orchestrated the scenario himself, after all.

"I… Um…" Mey-Rin had finished checking her apron and was beginning to look embarrassed. "Eh, um, I don't remember where I put the coins…"

"If this is an elaborate ploy to convince me to pay you more, I have to say it's almost strange enough to work," Ciel mused.

"No, no, no, no, not in the least, sir! I would never! I-If anything I feel undeserving of what I am paid…"

"Don't say stupid things like that in front of your employer." Ciel turned as Sebastian joined them. "It's a good thing I had you stick around, hm? Surely you know where these missing coins are, for whatever purpose they happen to have."

Sebastian looked down at the boy. "Yes, I do believe it is a good thing that I stuck around, young master." He gave his head a knowing tilt; Ciel looked back at him with an expression that was somewhere between hesitant and annoyed. "You put them behind the sheet, Mey-Rin."

"Oh, right, of course! How silly of me!" No, I believe for you this would be considered 'typical.' Mey-Rin hurried past the shelf and table to push back the bedsheet, returning with a little leather satchel, just as Ciel finished his silent, scrutinizing evaluation of his butler. She seemed quite nervous, her hands having the slightest shake as she pulled at the mouth of the bag. Meanwhile, Sebastian finally felt like he could relax. There was no way for this lesson to mortify him. This time he could simply bask in the pleasure of watching the boy learn something new. But what would Ciel think of it?

"S-So," Mey-Rin began, nervous but trying to cull it, "I-I first learned to do this when I was very young, I did… It was how I first discovered my knack for m-marksmanship, actually! A' course, back then I would've never used half-jacks on somethin' like this, money was far too important for games; usually we'd play with washers and bottle caps and eh, well…" She looked at the floor. "F-Forgeries. B-B-But coins really are the best thing for this technique I'm about to show you, so do pardon me for usin' money on something so churlish…"

Ciel was unfazed by Mey-Rin's admission that she'd possessed counterfeit money in her childhood. "When you said 'we'd play with forgeries,' you were referring to your friends Jan and Hao, right?" he asked.

Mey-Rin immediately brightened. She appeared touched that Ciel remembered the names of the two boys she had spent her early years with. "Yes, yes, that's right, sir! Jan was the one who came up with the game in the first place, actually! I-I really hope it ends up being quite fun today!"

Ciel turned to study the shelf and the cardstock tents again. "So how exactly does this game work? It's somewhat organized. This is how you used to play it when you lived on the streets?"

Mey-Rin shook her head. "Oh, no, you don't need this particular arrangement to play, you can aim at whatever you like! Th-This was just something that Mr. Sebastian was kind enough to help me set up… Ehm, so, I'm going to back up a bit, because it's easier for me to see from farther back, but you'll be closer for your turn. Everyone, do stay out of the way, please, I would so hate to hit you…"

Ciel moved to stand by the servant's table with the others, though he seemed perplexed. "Hit us with what? The coins?"

"Ehm, yes, that's right, sir." Still appearing rather nervous, but knowing well how to keep steady under pressure, Mey-Rin pinched a half-farthing between her fingers, raised her hand above her eye level, and — snap! — the coin went flying to knock one of the paper tents off its shelf. Snap! Snap! Snap! She moved like clockwork, taking pennies and firing them off and hitting her targets with expert precision every time. Snap!Snap!Snap!Snap!Snap! Five targets in three seconds were sniped to the floor.

After this plethora of rapidfire shots, she stopped and turned cautiously to her audience. "Ah, so th-that's what I'm going to teach you, young master! Jan used to call it penny shooting, he did!"

Ciel didn't speak for a few seconds. He was gazing quietly at the place where the paper had been standing moments before. "But I won't be able to do that," he said eventually. His voice had a strange quality to it, like he had to force it to remain neutral. "You're only capable because you're a talent at this sort of thing. But the rest of us aren't going to be able to do it, right?"

Mey-Rin fidgeted with her glasses. "Oh, well, I-I think you should be able to! Perhaps not right away, but it's not so hard as it looks! Jan and Hao could certainly do it, and we were all quite young at the time, we were!"

"A beginner could do that?" Ciel asked. His voice was starting to lose some composure. Is he becoming upset? "You're saying I could shoot a coin that quickly too? Really? You're telling me even a little child could do it?"

"Ah, well, a little child may not have excellent precision, but I imagine yours will be quite good, so yes, I think so!" said Mey-Rin. Again, her gaze found the floor. "I-I'm sorry, maybe this lesson is too simple…"

"What? No, I want to learn this." Ciel broke away from the others and strode over to Mey-Rin's side with long steps. "If it's as easy as you say it is to do something so impressive, I want to learn it immediately. What do I do first?"

Oh… so that's why his voice sounded that way. Sebastian straightened up, attentive. He's excited to try.

This thought was initially gentle in nature. After all, Sebastian did not think he was altogether unfamiliar with Ciel's excitement. He'd placed before his master elaborate desserts that Ciel had been craving all week. He had been present for Funtom's first successful quarter. And of course, he'd witnessed the wicked smile that Ciel often bore when an enemy of the crown was brought to justice. But the thought was still gentle in nature, because today's excitement too seemed gentle in nature. Ciel was, right now, simply a boy learning something new and feeling genuine joy for the act of learning. Sebastian felt the sun's rays upon him again as he considered the sweet scene about to unfold: how Ciel would slowly but surely learn Mey-Rin's technique; build confidence in his own ability; enjoy the sport and celebrate success with the people he trusted all around him; smile in that way that made Sebastian feel like a demon may just have a heart after all…

Looking back twenty minutes later, gentleness seemed a foolish hope to have, for the sounds of shattering porcelain and maniacal delight were, perhaps unsurprisingly, what actually resulted from the assassin maid's lesson.

Oh sure, it started out calmly enough. "You simply hold the coin between your fingers like this and snap," Mey-Rin had explained, and Ciel copied the motion to unfortunate results. The coin tumbled off his fingers and jingled against the floor. "That's all right, really! That's just how it goes at first. And if you can't get this way to work as you like, there's more than one method. I prefer to tilt my wrist towards me, like this, y'see, and face forward, but Jan always aimed better when he snapped them backwards, with his elbow directed at the targets." Mey-Rin then showed how to execute both methods.

"I'd rather face forward too," Ciel decided. "It seems more correct."

"Well, it is a bit dependent on the way you naturally snap, sorry to say, sir. But that can probably be changed with practice! A-And there's no right way to do it, it's whatever works best for you!"

But Ciel was determined to do it the way he wanted to. And determined was the best word for it: for the first five minutes, he struggled to get the coin to do anything but slip from his fingers, but he kept following Mey-Rin's instructions without complaint. This lack of complaints certainly proved his interest, as anything less than fascination would have caused the easily frustrated boy to tag out, just like he had with lassoing. Fortunately, Bard and Finny were content to look on… or look down in Finny's case.

"I feel like I'm doing everything you said, but even though I can get the coin shooting forward, it's still angling towards the floor," Ciel said after another five minutes. "Is it just that I need more practice?"

Mey-Rin was more relaxed now that her lesson had proven to be well-received. "Oh, certainly, it could be the case, but… Let's try something different, from the top. Put the coin on your thumb just barely… Even less than that I think… And then tilt your wrist towards yourself, that's it. Make sure your fingers are level… Very good, sir. Now, I know I taught you to aim with your elbow, but this time try aimin' with the middle of your forearm, right? And if you want to give it extra power, flick your wrist a bit when you snap."

Ciel was a perfect pupil. He did just as he was instructed, raising his hand slightly above his eye level and minding the tilt of his hand. After a few moments of careful adjustments, Ciel snapped his fingers.

The coin flew through the air like a disc, threading between a pair of tents, but nonetheless it was a straight shot. It smacked against the sheet and scuttled to the floor.

"Ha!" Ciel looked astonished with his own success. Sebastian felt something in him twist. "Yes! That was it! Here, let me try again."

Mey-Rin was all smiles. "Oh, yes, of course, here's another coin! Excellent job, young master!"

"Yeah, good show!" Bard hollered from the sidelines.

"Uh-huh, th-that was great!" said Finny, with a bit of uncertainty in his tone, as he had probably been too busy focusing on the ground to actually witness what happened.

"Very impressive work, indeed," Sebastian added last, affectionate. Ciel's shoulders seemed to stiffen a bit before he fired another coin at the bookshelf.

Another ten minutes went by, and Ciel had become capable of hitting targets half the time. It seemed more the result of luck than skill when he made contact, and Ciel knew it, but he still muttered a little "yes" or "good" under his breath every time the paper was knocked from its perch. Sebastian smirked. That was… cute, wasn't it? Or am I the only one to think so? Ciel wasn't interested in knowing what Sebastian thought. Every time Sebastian walked past to set the paper tents back up, he tried to catch the boy's eye, tried to smile at him encouragingly, but Ciel seemed to be avoiding his glance.

Of course the scene couldn't stay cute forever.

Ciel had more or less gotten the hang of practice when he asked in a voice that made Sebastian's ear twitch, "Mey-Rin, you said that you didn't shoot at paper when you first invented this game. So what did you and your friends use for practice?"

Oh no. "Anything we could find lyin' around, sir. Glass bottles mostly — they were littered all over the alleyways and made for perfect targets, they did."

"Did they ever break?" Oh no.

Mey-Rin laughed good-naturedly. "Oh my, yes. All the time!"

Ciel put his hand on his hip. "That sounds far more exciting than knocking down these things. Don't we have any rubbish we could use instead? Any spare mason jars?"

"Oh, no," Sebastian groaned.

"Oh, yeah! " Bard whooped. "Now we're talkin'! Let's get some fireworks goin' in here!"

"I made sure to dispose of all the house's refuse before the storm started," Sebastian said pointedly, glaring at Bard. Don't you dare push this. Don't you turn this kitchen into a warzone today. "We don't have any glass items sitting around for such barbaric purposes. And most importantly, it wouldn't be safe."

But Ciel wasn't minding his butler's warnings at all. He had a far-off look in his eye. Another scheme was on its way. "We do have something sitting around," he said at last.

"We certainly do not," Sebastian snipped.

"The Majolica tea sets," said Ciel.

"You mean the gifts from Lady Dixon, who spread the good word about Funtom Company to her circle during its first year," Sebastian reminded.

"They're hideous," said Ciel.

"They are a bevy of well-intentioned presents from a person with a lot of social power," Sebastian pushed.

"I've always wanted to destroy the one that resembles a corn cob," said Ciel.

"Someone who no doubt would like to see them being put to use at her next visit, whenever that may be…!" Sebastian cried.

"Go get them," said Ciel.

It couldn't be helped. Ciel would make it an order next. So Sebastian got them.

"This coming from the person who claimed knocking over a wooden stool was destructive and loud," he sighed as he arranged the (admittedly tacky) novelty cups, sugar bowls, creamer jugs, and teapots on the shelves in place of the paper tents.

"A wooden stool has never offended my sensibilities," was the snarked response. Sebastian sighed again before stepping away from the shooting gallery with its new supply of targets. He stole a final glance at the resident troublemaker; Ciel had a rigidity to his posture like a hunting creature before it sprang. He's even more excited about the game than before!

Sebastian felt an exhaustion creeping into his expression. Making sure every single glass shard had been removed from the alcove — it was just another chore to add to the continually running list…

"All right," Ciel muttered, before squaring his shoulders and raising his right arm up high, elbow bent. The exercise with the lasso hadn't worn him out; Ciel was too focused on what he wanted, which was, apparently, violence. But there was nothing careless about the way he inflicted it: it was treated like an important matter. Ciel tucked his tongue into the corner of his mouth, took great care to line up his hand. From where Sebastian stood, it was hard to tell what he meant to hit first. But what he did hit was a teacup shaped like a smallmouth bass, right in the handle, which snapped off cleanly with a noise like a bell.

Ciel straightened tall and smirked. "Now that felt like hitting a target!"

Mey-Rin stepped to his shoulder. "It was a bang-up shot, it was!" She slapped a hand over her mouth, blushing profusely. "I mean—! It was really impressive! Um, j-just ignore that… I-I don't know where that came from, ahaha…" She tapped her fingertips together.

Ciel didn't care about the slang. "I wasn't really trying to get just the handle, though. I was aiming to shatter the whole thing at once."

"A-Ah, that'd be tough, it would. You'd have to hit it right where its structure is weakest with all your strength, but it's quite hard to say where that place would be just by lookin'..."

The arm was raised again with a new coin loaded. "Then we'll have to find out through trial and error."

And so the trial and error began.

Snap! Ping! Snap! Ping! Snap! Ping! Snap! Ping! Snap! Ping! Sebastian felt his sanity being chipped at along with every teacup the young master struck. Snap! Crash! The first cup plummeted to the floor, and little colorful triangles skittered across the tiles, some coming close to the young master's feet. "Now that's even better. That's what a good shot ought to feel like," Ciel mused. He was moving to get a new angle, and oh please, don't step on— Crsh! Sebastian cringed inwardly as a tiny piece of glass was ground into dust under the boy's heel. Oh, why this… So many sandy particles all over the floor… This was going to be a nightmare to clean up… Couldn't Ciel just stay put in one spot? Sebastian clenched and unclenched his fists, about to intervene—

Until he looked down and remembered he wasn't the only restless one here.

Finny was biting at his thumb, eyes wide and stare a thousand yards' long. Oh, dear… Even with all of Sebastian's reassurance, it stood to reason that Finny would still have a lot of anxiety built-up around finding his lesson. He was clearly thinking with all his might, but the fear was sure to stop any coherent thoughts from forming.

Sebastian looked back at the instructor and her pupil. Ciel kept moving around the alcove, trying to locate the best angle to take down each target, without getting too close to ruin the sport of it. Porcelain shrapnel turned to dust beneath each footfall. But the more Ciel walked around, the sooner Finny's lesson would come to fruition. Sebastian could sense it unraveling just like his peace of mind…

"Aw, heck," Bard suddenly leaned over to Sebastian to whisper, "you ever seen the young master havin' this much fun before?"

Sebastian was bewildered. "Fun? " he managed to whisper back. "This isn't what boys are meant to do for fun! This is vandalism! This is a mess!"

"This ain't nothin'," Bard snickered, folding his arms. "Geez, sometimes I really think you never were a kid. If Junior was here with his slingshot, he'd be losin' his mind too. What's the problem with makin' a mess every now n' then? Don't look at me like that, I don't mean on the job, a'right! But really, loosen your collar for a sec, boss. It's just playin'."

Playing?

Sebastian's eyes darted back just as Ciel darted to Mey-Rin's side. "My shots aren't making any dent in that teapot," he told her. "I don't think they're strong enough. But I bet yours are. I want to see if you can shatter the whole thing in one go."

Mey-Rin nodded with determination and lifted a steady hand. Would she be able to do it? The aiming itself seemed to take hardly any effort. Snap! Sebastian could see the coin's future path as perfectly as he had seen the lasso's. It would slice the air just the same — but it wouldn't falter. Its spinning edge would find the teapot's heart, its concentrated power all directed in one tiny spot, but would it be enough to—

CRASH!

A hammer couldn't have caused the porcelain to splinter more fantastically. It was as though it had exploded from the inside out. The shards rained down the shelf in a satisfying chime, handle, spout, and lid of the piscatory vessel shattering further on their descent. The biggest fragment to survive the fall shuddered on its axis as if in shock from the blow.

But Ciel? His surprise was only momentary before his face lit up with the delicious mischief of it all.

"Ha! That was brilliant!" he crowed, and Mey-Rin smiled sheepishly at his praise. Ciel lifted his chest, grinning. "So there was some good destined for that ugly thing after all. Ha! Can you do it again? Aim for that awful corn teapot this time. Oh, but your foot isn't bothered, right? You ought to be careful with it, you know. If you need to sit down, you should."

Ciel then turned to the servant's table and seemed to remember Bard, Finny, and Sebastian were onlooking. His jaw tightened with awareness. "Oh," he said. "Uhm… did anyone else want to have a turn…?"

Bard flapped his fingers dismissively. "Don't worry about us, young master! We're perfectly happy just watchin'. You keep at it." Ciel didn't seem to need much more convincing than that; he wanted to get back to the game. Meanwhile, Bard turned and tousled Finny's hair. "Aw hey, Finn, don't worry, all right? It'll get sorted. You'll see."

Finny only let a breath out his nose like a tired dog and slumped onto Bard. Sebastian felt a stirring inside him. There was such trust and depth to the gesture. Would the young master ever feel safe enough to…? Another crash interrupted the thought; the corn teapot had been obliterated. Sebastian watched as Ciel celebrated with another hard laugh and a fierce expression of mirth. Mey-Rin seemed quite surprised by this display but not at all deterred as coin after coin was snapped from her fingers to burst her targets asunder.

Sebastian shook his head, at last finding his smile. This was a powerful moment, too. If the young master felt safe enough to play in their presence, it meant he felt safe enough to be a child. And what a revelation that was.

Finally, after many minutes of strategizing and teamwork, earl and maid had managed to destroy the remainder of the cups. The alcove was in a state, to say the least. Three tea sets had been reduced to slivers and pebbles, and Sebastian wasn't enthusiastic about tidying it in the least. But Ciel wasn't looking very tidy anymore either, jacket long removed and clothing rumpled from so much activity — just as Sebastian had anticipated.

Ciel massaged at his forearm; he had worked hard today. "That was fun," he said, only honesty behind the phrase. "I'm going to keep practicing that in my free time, I think. I'd like to get just as good as you are, Mey-Rin. Or at least as close as I can, since this is really your area of expertise."

Mey-Rin was profoundly gratified. "Oh, young master—! That makes me so happy to hear! Th-Thank you!"

"As long as you don't practice on any delicate objects without informing me first," Sebastian said. He tried to sound jocular about it, but sadly it only seemed to remind Ciel that he'd let his guard down for once. The boy straightened up at the same time that he straightened his sleeves.

"I'll be somewhat grateful if this next event has nothing to do with moving around," he said, going back for the jacket that he'd draped on the work table. "I'm pretty worn-out. That was more than I was expecting, but I got sort of into it too."

The final lesson had arrived. Before it could begin, its teacher had a lesson to learn too. Finny flashed a pleading look at Sebastian, and in response Sebastian gave him his most encouraging expression. He wasn't the only one to show his support. Bard thumped Finny on the shoulder, and Mey-Rin walked over to stand beside him.

Ciel stared on in confusion. "What's going on? What's this about?" he asked.

With his family behind him, Finny was able to take a deep breath. He walked towards Ciel and, with great effort, raised his head. "Young master, I… I'm so sorry," he said. "I wasn't able to think up a lesson for you today, even though it was my chance to redeem myself after getting hurt. I tried my hardest, I really did… But I just don't know anything special all on my own. I don't think there's anything I can teach you. I'm s-sorry." Finny's shoulders began to shake.

Ciel balked at this display of emotion. His eyes flicked to Sebastian for only a moment, as if seeking help — but all too quickly, Ciel squared his shoulders and made himself an adult. "Really, now… Listen to me, Finny. You don't have to apologize if the order I gave you was too much. But I'm not really surprised you struggled with it either; Sebastian insinuated as much to me this morning. I just wish you had been honest about it sooner, because if you can't be honest with me or tell me when you're having trouble, then nothing will change. All that will happen is that you'll feel guilty for no reason, when the reality is that I was never going to be upset with you in the first place. This isn't your fault."

"Y-Y-Y-Young master…" Finny began to cry in earnest, and Ciel balked again; Sebastian could see the tears dripping from the gardener's chin to the floor. He sniffled hugely. "Y-Y-You're so nice to me… When I don't even d-deserve it…"

"That's enough of that," Ciel huffed. "I don't want you to grovel at my feet either, all right? I just want this manor to run as smoothly and peacefully as possible. God's sake, Finny, don't you have a handkerchief? You can take mine if you promise not to give it back. Yes, I mean that. Now just remember what I said for the future: be upfront with me as soon as possible whenever there's an issue. That goes for all of you, right?"

"Yes, sir!" the servants chorused, Finny's ending in a hiccup.

"Good." Ciel glanced at the kitchen's grandfather clock. "That ended a bit prematurely, I suppose, but that's all there is to it. Well. That was a good bit of entertainment. I appreciate each of you taking the order so seriously… as impromptu as it was. And I suppose I should mean each of you." Here he shot Sebastian an eyeful of slyness.

Sebastian returned, "I'm sorry, sir, but nothing is ending prematurely. Finny still hasn't given his lesson."

Ciel plopped a hand on his hip. "Are you daft? Didn't you hear him say he couldn't think one up?"

"Now, now. He simply couldn't think one up for himself." Sebastian tucked his arms behind his back and approached to stand beside his charge, who stared up with narrow apprehension. "I, however, did think of one."

Ciel leaned away slightly. "... Well, what is it then, you dramatic bastard?"

Sebastian held up a pair of fingers. "Finny, do you remember both of the hints I gave to you?"

"Oh, um, y-yeah." Finny was still rubbing his eyes with the handkerchief. "You told me to look at the young master," he recited, "and you also told me to keep my chin down."

"W-What did you tell him to look at me for?" Ciel was beginning to sound nervous.

Sebastian merely nodded. "That's correct, Finny. Now, if you combine both of those lessons, what do you notice?"

Not just Finny but all three of the servants stared at Ciel, and their eyes trailed down to the tennis shoes on his feet. Panicked, Ciel followed their gaze. "What?! What's this all about?!"

"I hope you too remember what I told you this morning, sir," Sebastian said as warmly as he could. "No one is interested in making a fool out of you."

"All I see is that his laces are undone," Bard said.

"Oh, do step carefully, then," Mey-Rin added.

But Finny, who had so long been trying to put two and two together, was the one to make the pieces fit. He drew in a huge gasp. "Young master! You don't know how to tie your shoes!" he shouted.

Ciel's shoulders jumped. "Wha—? S-So what?!"

"I know plenty about tying shoes!" Finny was glowing with delight. "Tons and tons and tons and tons!"

Ciel gulped. Then he shot a glare up at Sebastian. "You planned this…" he growled, but there was a bit of injury lurking in his eye.

Sebastian softened. "Yes, young master, I did. But I think you'll find a very accepting audience stands before you, one who only wants to see you succeed."

Ciel shrunk into himself. "This isn't really something I wanted everyone to know about me…" he mumbled.

But the other servants came through for the boy, just like Sebastian knew they would. "There's nothin' to be ashamed of, young master," Bard said. He chuckled, sticking a thumb into his chest. "You're lookin' at a chef who can't cook, after all!"

"And a maid who breaks half of what she touches," Mey-Rin said with a blush.

"And a gardener who kills plants!" Finny beamed. He sprung forward. "We're the last people in the world who would call you silly for not knowing how to do something! In fact, I think it's the best thing ever that you don't know how to tie your shoes, because now I get to teach you how! And that's so, so, so wonderful!"

For a moment, Ciel could only stare back at the three servants who loved him so unconditionally. Then he let out a breath, conceding. "Okay, fine. I'll let you teach me. It's not as if I can leave the kitchen yet anyway… The rest of the house must be freezing cold without the fires going."

Finny threw his arms into the air. "Hooray! You won't regret it!"

"Just make sure you stand away from the broken glass," Sebastian reminded, feeling little bits under his feet even now. "Sitting by the fire may even be the best location. And speaking of the fires, sir — do I now have your permission to take care of the chores?"

Ciel glared up at Sebastian in such a way that communicated quite a lot in quite a short span. First there was a bit of anger glazing his visible eye, because Sebastian had set him up; then a sort of thoughtfulness, as if remembering he was just as guilty of doing the same; and finally, there was a settled gaze that Sebastian hoped was acceptance. "Yes," Ciel said. "Since you seem to really miss being held captive by your chores, you can get a start on them. Just be back in half an hour for a late lunch."

At last. "Very good, sir. I'll accomplish as much as I can before the clock strikes anew."

Half an hour was scarcely enough time to build up five or six fires, but it could be done. Sebastian nearly raced to it… but curiosity stopped him in the doorway. He looked to the far end of the kitchen. Finny had brought a pair of chairs over to the fireside and had one foot propped on the top of the seat, plying his own laces apart so they could start the lesson from the beginning. "It's really very simple, young master, but don't worry if you don't get it right away! I had to do it again over and over and over for a few hours before I could do it just right every time, but now it's so easy that I don't even have to think about it! I just know you'll be amazing at it before long, too! So first, you'll take a lace in each hand…"

Ciel was a little wary yet. This was new territory for him. Sebastian had always been the one to manage his clothing, and before Sebastian had been Tanaka, so Ciel lacked a lot of confidence in this area. But what he needed now more than anything was confidence. Finny's lesson might just be the most important one of the day.

Good luck, young master. I know you'll be just fine.

Six fires were brought back to life in record time. When Sebastian returned at the appointed moment, the kitchen had a new addition: Tanaka sat at the servant's table, apparently feeling well enough to drink tea downstairs with the rest of them now. Sebastian swapped a pleasant greeting with him, but couldn't ignore that Bard was the only other being in the room. "Where did the rest of the household wander off to? I didn't pass them on my return," Sebastian asked.

"They're in the stables with the horses," Bard called over his shoulder from the stove. "Syson started screaming for attention, the big baby. Don't worry, they said they won't go in the stalls, they're just feeding the lot some sugar and carrots. I'd be out with 'em, but I was given lunch duty."

Sebastian started. "You? But you aren't capable of preparing any lunch food."

Bard turned around to reveal a frying pan with a circle of sizzling batter in its center. "Wouldn't you know it," he chuckled, "everybody wanted flapjacks!"

Snap! Thunk!

"Congratulations. You proved your point. It turns out that there are some lessons that are worth learning just for fun. You win."

Snap! Fwump!

That long, eventful, winding day had finally turned to the tranquility of night. Ciel was lying in bed in his pajamas, clean and snug in bed after his second bath. The fire smoldered low but hot in its grate. Rain still pattered down the windows, but not with the waterfalls of the earlier day. At last the storm seemed to be on its way out.

Snap! Plonk!

"I 'win,' do I?" Sebastian took his place at the end of the bed after tidying up the bathroom. It was their first chance to talk since the shoe-tying lesson, so busy had he been. "And what about you? Are you telling me that you feel as though you lost?"

Snap! Thump! Ciel sent another coin beneath the armoire. "No, not really," he sneered, "because now I have a whole new way of bothering you."

Sebastian watched Ciel swivel his wrist until the right trajectory was pinpointed. "Ah. You mean the coins?"

"Obviously." Snap! Thump! This time beneath a chair.

"I suppose I have some bad news for you, then, young master. It doesn't hardly bother me at all anymore."

A proud look answered that. "Hm! I think that can be arranged though." Snap! Thonk! The last penny went flying across the room, farther than Ciel meant, hitting the wall and leaving a little white scratch at the impact site.

Sebastian felt his expression go blank as he turned to the perpetrator. Ciel's expression was blank too.

"You can use your magic to fix that," the boy eventually said in a rush.

It couldn't be helped. Sebastian laughed before he had even realized it was coming. "You are quite funny, aren't you?" he repeated. "All day, ready with the clever comeback. Nothing gets past you."

Ciel narrowed an eye at him, clearly thinking him strange. "You said that the other day, too. I'm not really trying to be funny, all right? I'm just saying what comes into my head. What's so funny about that?"

It was a fair question. "Hmm… I suppose…" Sebastian thought for a moment. The answer brought a serenity to his features. "I suppose that you may not be the only one to find good humor in honesty these days."

When Sebastian faced him, Ciel found interest in the corner of the room.

"I ought to ask," Sebastian continued, earning back the young master's attention, though it was guarded, "if Finny's lesson went well after I left. I realized that I could have gone too far with my secrets today. My goal was to surprise you, but not to embarrass you. I'm afraid I may not have succeeded in that goal."

Ciel shrugged limply. "It was fine. Finny did pretty well, actually. I was able to learn his lesson." A light flush came over his features. "Y-You should probably still manage my wardrobe in the morning, though. I wouldn't say I'm that good." He cleared his throat slightly. "As for setting me up, I already moved past that. You probably noticed I was trying to decide whether or not to get mad at you at the moment, but I put you through your own trials just before, so it's only fair. We can call it even."

"'Even' sounds like a good place to stand." Ciel yawned, and Sebastian stood to tuck him in. "Let's keep things even from here on, then. How about it?"

"... If you can actually keep up your end of the deal, maybe," Ciel mumbled as the sheets were draped over his shoulders.

"I certainly intend to." Sebastian selected the paraffin lamp from the side table. "Goodnight, young master. I'm proud of you for making today so very special. I'll see you in the morning to return to your usual schedule; I imagine the storm will have lightened enough to allow the postal service to return to work."

"Mm." That hum was the only reply. The boy seemed distracted, and Sebastian abruptly remembered Ciel's hesitance over the past few days, always at nighttime and always when Sebastian was about to leave the room. Would the secret go unspoken again?

The lamp was blown out. The shadows in the room were as thick as ink thanks to the settling fire. "Pleasant dreams, sir." He began to walk to the doorway, slowly, slowly…

"… Sebastian?"

Here it was. Sebastian could sense it: Ciel's voice sounded hesitant but ready.

He made his own voice reliant, kind, soft. "Yes, young master?"

In the rippling darkness, Ciel sat up in bed. The covers rustled like a pair of doves taking wing. "... I never finished reading that short story by Mr. Doyle," he said.

"... I see." Sebastian turned slowly around. "Would you like to tell me why that is, then?"

Ciel was speaking softly now too. "I didn't like it."

Like a loyal pet, Sebastian returned to sit at the foot of the bed. "What didn't you like about it?" he asked.

"It was written just fine," Ciel said. "It's always written fine when Doyle's behind it." He began toying with the corner of his favorite pillow. "I just didn't like what it was about."

"And what was it about, young master?"

The answer came slowly, deliberately. "It was about an Egyptian man who created an elixir that would make himself immortal… but he didn't want to be immortal anymore after the woman he loved was taken by illness. But no matter what he did to himself, he couldn't manage to die… And so he spent thousands of years trying to find the antidote his jealous colleague had hidden away in the desert. But it was lost to time. He was trapped across the centuries, at least until archeologists managed to uncover the ring his friend had hidden the antidote in."

Ciel paused. "When I say it out loud, I don't think I make it sound terribly discomforting… But I think… I think maybe nothing frightens me as much as living forever does. Or being… aware of my life forever, even after death." He bit his lip. He was quiet for a long moment. "I think… I remember you telling me at the start of the contract that when you eat a soul… it simply disappears. But… you… you don't know what it feels like to be eaten for the person who owns the soul, do you? You don't know how long they stay… conscious?"

Sebastian sat frozen. He had not expected such a profound conversation. "I do know to a degree," he began with great care. He had never admitted to anyone what he was about to admit now. "I do not experience the sensations of souls firsthand… but the soul does become one with my energy… So the thoughts and feelings of the soul are… understood by me upon being devoured."

Ciel was fascinated. "What do they feel?" he asked.

Sebastian could not lie to the boy. He could not lie to himself. "Very quickly," he said, "they stop feeling anything at all."

That answer was relieving for one of them. "I see… That's sort of nice." Ciel's shoulders relaxed. "That's sort of what I hoped death would be like. The idea of heaven doesn't comfort me at all, not since the fire. I couldn't be happy there, if it were real. Hell wouldn't be better or worse, not really. Any continuation… I don't want it." His face was solemn, then peaceful. "So you see, you aren't the only one getting a good deal out of this contract. I get to know what happens when I die. And I'm quite comforted by the truth. I don't suppose you've ever had anyone say that to you before, have you?"

"No," said Sebastian. "I haven't."

With that, a slight air of characteristic smugness returned. "If you thought I was funny before, I must really sound funny to you now."

There was that ache in his chest again. "Funny," Sebastian repeated. "Yes. Something like it."

"Well… I'm glad I asked," Ciel said. It seemed to humble him, but he still admitted, "I feel a bit better now."

"I'm glad you feel better." Sebastian helped to tuck him in again, that funny, playful, clever child. "Would you like me to stay by your side until you fall asleep?"

"No, I don't think so. I think I feel pretty content, actually. You can get back to all those chores you didn't manage to finish. I don't need you bellyaching at me about them again tomorrow."

The chores were nothing. Sebastian had wished to stay. Instead, it was out to the night-blue of the hallways to think on this, all alone.

Ciel believed he had cured his own discomfort, but no: it had merely been transferred. This story of Doyle's… it was meant to be fiction, yet it was a demon's cruel reality. Someday, the contract would come to an end. Someday, one existence would stop while another would stretch on into infinity. But that infinite existence would not be the same. It could never be the same. This little life that Sebastian was destined to take had changed him forever. It had granted him the power to love.

And if such impossible things as a demon's love were possible… what other impossibilities could come to pass?

One was already coming to fruition. Tonight, a demon wished for a miracle.

One day had gone by since the storm had dissolved apart. Dawnlight and dewdrops flashed across the landscape and turned the rolling hills to a sequined gown. Sebastian felt he was the one dark blotch in the painting as he took the quick trip to visit the manor's mailbox. The post was still catching up from the delay, and there was plenty to do. Letters from attendants of the Funtom convention, letters from Funtom, proposals from tenants, shire taxes, and more… Life's pulse was back to beating rabbit-quick. But Ciel had finally had his proper holiday. Along with his four other servants, he had declared himself ready to return to work.

And Sebastian would be there to help. He brought the letters straight to the servant's office and immediately began to sort them into piles. Urgent, not urgent, for Tanaka, social… Sebastian placed each letter in its designated category without awarding the practice much thought — at least until he reached the final two. The letters seemed to weigh a ton in each gloved hand when he recognized their senders, both monikers souring on his tongue and chilling in his stomach like rotten ice.

Undertaker.

Henri Fairclough.

It was impossible to say which name sickened him more.