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archadianskies · 4 years

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/kicks down door "The Revenge for hurting one of their family." Kuro reapers???! (i miss your kuroshit stuff so bad)

Live long enough in London and you’ll learn a thing or two about how it runs. There are rules, there are boundaries that govern the populace both natural and supernatural. One must quickly learn their place if they are to find order in the chaos, if they have even the barest inclination to survive.

Reapers are an amusing, if but pesky race. Little death clerks, little worker ants that march on and on; personifications of balance and duty. Harmless for the most part- they mind their own business if you mind yours. Unless you’re the type to go after souls in which case you will spend your existence like a bear swatting a hive for its honey. They can sting, yes, and Grey Metal is not to be taken lightly. Their Scythes can cut through any type of flesh, even the toughest of hellion hides, and many have succumbed to wounds caused by their incorrect dismissal of those seemingly laughable gardening tools.

If a Reaper dies and they are harvested, their souls are returned to be recycled and reborn anew. If a Reaper dies and their soul is consumed, there is no coming back for them. Consume a Reaper and you have consumed quite a feast, for a Reaper takes souls into themselves for safekeeping when they ferry the records of the dead to the starry sea. Consume a Reaper and you will not have to consume anything else for at least a millennia.

It is a tantalising temptation, then, to go after a Reaper. Many fledglings across the great breadth of time have met untimely ends by underestimating a Reaper, by mistaking them for an easy meal. If you are unsuccessful in killing a Reaper outright, much like an injured bee the hive will be alerted and the others will come for their fallen.

“You should have killed it and consumed it!” He snarls, and the fledgling shrinks back at his tone.

“But I wanted to bring it back to share it with you!”

“And instead it got away!” He roars, and the fledgling darts away with a cry, huddling in the corner. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?! It will alert the Division and others will come!”

“It was a young one, it shouldn’t have any rank!” The fledgling argues, reaching into a pocket to hold out a pair of cracked, dirty spectacles. “And I got its glasses, so it’ll take it longer to go back!”

He snatches the spectacles and turns them over in his hands. A Reaper’s spectacles are just as unique as their Scythe and though his blood is cold, it feels colder still when he realises who the spectacles belong to. “Did it see this place? Did it recognise where you had brought it to? Answer me!”

“I-I’m not sure? It had already lost a lot of blood before it managed to make the Jump.” The fledgling looks at their surroundings, at the crumbling mansion around them. “I don’t think there’s much about this place that’ll stick out. Lots of crumbling old ruins everywhere out here.” It mumbles, hands twisting nervously. He looks over at the creature, weighing up his choices. There are few.

*~*

The Jump takes all he has left, and he didn’t even make it very far. Just far enough. It used to be a musty, dark little parlour with the stench of incense and lacquer to mask the Death. It used to have dried floral swags hanging from the roof to aid in freshening the air. Now it’s a neat, tidy little funeral home with all the modern furnishings, all the modern embalming equipment.

“Oh, a little stray!” The Ancient One wheezes a laugh, looking down at him with amusement in those startling, bright yellow-green eyes. “My my, pup, you’ve been in quite a tousle.” He tisks, bending to gently scoop him off the floor and lay him out on one of the embalming tables. “Bites measure about the depth of an older fledgling, hm. Didn’t think there were any around this part of town. This is dear Sebastian’s territory, how very rude.” He begins to pat down his pockets, until he finds his phone. “I’ll phone ahead and let them know.”

Ronald doesn’t remember arriving at the Infirmary but he doesn’t remember much in general, in all fairness. The kooky Undertaker had luckily, very kindly, transported him here after he so rudely appeared in a wet visceral splat on his parlour floor. He must have left quite a mess.

“Ronnie? Pup are you awake?” Ah.

“Hey Grellybean.” Wow is that his voice? Opening his eyes reveals more than just Grell at his bedside, but Alan and Eric, and even Boss, too. He squints a little, their faces no more than smudges of colour but he’d recognise them even blind. He loves them that much, and they love him too. Grell leans over to press her lips to his forehead and he feels the waxen slip of her lipstick leaving a print.

“Papa made these himself.” She eases a pair of spectacles onto his face and his vision sharpens. “Rush job after we told him what happened.”

“What happened before you unceremoniously appeared on the Mad Old Bastard’s floor?” Eric leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Meant to be an easy reap- family car accident.” Ronald tries to shrug but the movement sends a sharp stab of pain in his torso. Wincing, he continues. “Got accosted by a fledgling. Would’ve been an easy fight if not for the high population density and the fact the bugger was deadset on me and not the souls.”

“On you?” Alan echoes with a frown.

“Yeah. Didn’t even glance at the souls.”

“They were still there when the recovery team arrived.” William adds, brows furrowed in thought. “A personal attack?”

“Cocky fledgling thinking it could make a snack out of our pup?” Grell huffs, face twisted in a scowl. “That calls for retribution.”

“The fledgling clearly crossed over into new territory. That reap is on the outskirts, but still included in his territory; no other hellion hunt on those grounds.” William’s frown deepens. “Best we set things right before that creature decides to take matters into his own hands.”

“They’re such lovely hands though, Will.” Grell giggles, rolling her eyes at the glare he throws her. “Don’t worry. Ordinarily I’d be raring to dance with the devil but…” the playfulness vanishes when she looks at Ronald, her expression hardening into something serious. “It came after one us. I don’t take that too lightly.”

*~*

He expects the Red One, but it’s three others instead. One of them is the head of the Reapers himself.

“You know why we are here.”

“Yes.” He steps aside to where he has his fledgling bound in scripture that burns the more it struggles.

“It was your fledgling who set upon one of our own. On grounds that were not yours to hunt on.” The leader says and points his Scythe at the fledgling’s neck.

“I offer it to you, as compensation for your fallen.” He bows as the fledgling shrieks in protest, thrashing violently despite the ropes of scripture that burn deep into its flesh. “I should have taught it better.”

“That is your failure alone.” The Reaper reprimands sharply. “That the demon whose grounds you trespassed is not here yet is not attributed to luck.”

“He knew you would come first.” He nods, looking down at the writhing fledgling in disdain. He will have to make another. A waste. “Counted on you to clean up the mess so he wouldn’t have to.”

“We come to bargain.” Another Reaper says, stepping out from the shadows. “Set the fledgling free. It is older than most, and matured in its skill. If it can evade us, if it can survive us, we will consider it a lesson learned with the condition it will never set foot here ever again.”

“I accept this bargain.” He bows, whispering the incantations to break the bindings free. The fledgling whimpers, darting him a fearful glance before dashing away. The Reapers wait, standing calmly and regarding him with their reflective yellow-green eyes. The leader raises his hand and snaps his fingers, and the other two take off. It isn’t long before he hears the snarling, the shouting, the screaming.

“A student is a reflection of its teacher, and you did not teach it well.” The Reaper shakes his head. A blur of red drops down from above, the click of her heels echoing in the empty hallway.

“The bargain is this: if you can evade her, if you can survive her, I will consider it a lesson learned with the condition you will never set foot here ever again.” Director William T. Spears looks over at the Red One and he knows this is it, this is the end. There is no surviving her.

The Reaper looks back at him, eyes unnaturally bright in the darkness. “Run.”

#william t. spears #ronald knox #grell sutcliff #kuroshitsuji #alan humphries #eric slingby #HOLYSHIT anon thanks #i missed writing this fam #flexing the kuro muscles before i tackle thanatos again #annie writes: kuroshitsuji #oh anon #adventures in text posts

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