Loki
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- Seen Nov 18, 2024
AN// I've written a lot of fanfiction's before, but never have I been so pleased with the outcome of the first three chapter's. Never have I planned so far ahead that I've at least 5 chapters of me knowing what's going to happen under my belt. So this is rather exciting. xD
I've posted a lot of fanfiction's before, but I've never gotten very many review's, which discourages me, but really honestly shouldn't. *I'm very sorry about my reliance on other people and their opinion's* So if you do read this story, please say something at the end, at the very least.
Please tell me if I've rushed things. I have a tendency to do that. It's PG-13 right now, and I'm pretty sure that it'll stay PG-13, however, much later on in the story (if I get there) the story will up to it's rating. It might even push the PG-13 thing, so you've been warned. :<
My japanese sucks, so please do refrain from criticizing it. It's for effect.
Chapter 1: Sendo-kou's First Job
If you could dictate someone's date of death, would you make it sooner, or later?
There was a question that was once popular, an inquiry that required thought and logic for it to be acceptable by my peers. I was never asked the question, as my one and only friend, Takoki Shindo, was never interested in anything that required too much brainpower. But I knew the answer, just as well as I knew the question.
I am Seiaki Shinji. I currently sit first in my class, regardless of whatever subject it is. I am ranked first in grades. I reeled in a good 110% on last night's assignment. I am the only one who made it cleanly over the high jump. And the list is never ending. I will not bore you with it, as I am sure you are more interested in my opinion of death, rather then my accomplishments in life.
If I could dictate someone's date of death, I would leave it as it were.
I was not raised to believe in destiny, but I find that no matter how horrific an enemy of mine, I would not condemn them to an early death. No matter how wonderful a friend, I would not condemn them to watch the people around them leave them behind. But the less intelligent of my class, regardless of the fact that 2-A is of the top grades in my year, still insist that they would make my death come sooner, for that would give them a one-up on test rankings.
Shindo was once asked this very question. He is not a stupid person. But he cannot distinguish the time in which to lie, and the time in which to be honest. Thus, he answered exactly as I have just stated, though without my reasoning. Thus, as usual, the rest of the class turned their backs on him laughing at his stupid answer.
But it was far from stupid.
I knew that. Shindo knew that.
Death was not something to be tampered with, for its fury was greater then a thousand acres of cursed flame, seeking to diminish all life in its path.
"I hear Hano-sensei!" Cried the lookout who was hovering at the door. It was a short period of chaos as chairs scraped, as bottoms fell onto the cold plastic chairs, and as the essentials for class were prepared in less then five seconds, before the door opened to reveal someone who was quite obviously not the cheery Hano-sensei. His serious expression seemed comparable to my own, though one could tell the differences at one glance.
His lavender eyes clashed with my own teal ones, as he seemed to be battling the urge to say something rude to me, the class president. But with the entire class staring at him, displeased that they'd been rushed into their seats on a false alarm, he seemed to think better of it. Indeed, the snowy haired boy was second ranking on the last exam. He claimed that we were unlike in any way, though we both knew better.
I may have had unnaturally black hair obscuring my eyes from view, and he square silver rimmed glasses that reflected the light back at the onlooker, but we were both detatched from the rest of our class.
I may have had smooth lips pierced with two double ended studs, and he chapped lips that were unblemished by metal, but we were both class representative's.
And I may have spent two weeks studying for the exam, while he had taken more then four weeks, but we were both still racing each other for #1.
The only difference is one that I could hardly care searching for. The millimeter in which I was ahead of him in the race, the mere millimeter to me, which seemed like miles to Reizo Akira.
It was fact that both of our desks had been placed at the very front of the classroom because Hano-sensei particularly liked the awkward atmosphere that we exuded when too close to each other. An aura of indifference, coupled with an aura of pure hostility and jealousy seemed to amuse our teacher beyond belief, as he was always provoking Reizo to say something about the fact that for the fifteenth time in a row since we'd began junior high together, I had beaten him to first place on the rankings.
"Akira!" Shindo leaned over, his mussy brown hair jutting in all directions with an unusually large cowlick on the back of his head, "Did you see the test rankings? They've just put them up!"
"I have." Was Reizo's only response. He was as stiff as he looked, with a back that was probably too straight to be good for his spine, and a good student pose, with one foot planted slightly in front of the other underneath his desk, his hands folded on his desk as he awaited Hano-sensei. I could see his face turn slightly purple at my own sitting manner in which consisted of my elbow over the back of the seat, my long legs randomly arranged and sticking out from the bottom of my desk, while my butt was steadily sliding further and further towards the edge of the seat. This seemed to annoy him beyond belief.
I did not have the ability to read minds, but if I did, I would bet a month of not wearing my lip rings that he was wondering how a punk slacker was outclassing him with ease in both academics and athletics.
"Maan, you were one point off this year!" Shindo shook his head, making his hair even messier as he continued to provoke Reizo, "Well, at the rate you're going, you might beat Shinji next semester, right? You catch up by one point each exam!"
"Perhaps." Was the cold answer.
I leaned my head back to face the ceiling, disliking the fact that Shindo sat on my left, Reizo on my right, the both of them talking about me as if I were in the back of the classroom, rather then less then two feet away from the both of them.
"But you know-"
I never found out what was to be known, however, because the door to the classroom slid open and Hano-sensei's cheerful voice called into the room.
"Good Morning my students!" He declared in heavily accented English, "Are you all ready for new day of learning??"
I caught his error in language at once, though I, like Reizo, did not correct him. It was often Hano-sensei's habit to speak in Engrish, rather then proper English. A fact that Reizo disapproved of, by the looks of his purpling expression.
"We will begin by handing in the report on the French Revolution assigned three days ago. Shindo, please collect them."
"Right away Hano-sensei." Shindo replied, standing up and moving to pick up the thick wads of paper, laden with words class 2-D couldn't even hope to understand.
The day wore on, with Hano-sensei particularly enjoying the heightened level of anger seeming to ooze off of Reizo, freshly angered by Shindo, and with Reizo continuing to feverishly try and complete the assignments in a more logically correct way then I did. Sometimes people would ask me how I did everything so well, ruling out the possibility that I beat up underclassmen to do them for me, since I could do classwork just as easily, and I would give them the most pompous answer I could think of.
"Sometimes," I would begin with one of my rare smiles, whether fake or real, "God creates perfect people."
Reizo would often snort into the book he was reading, or press too hard on his pencil so that the lead broke and soared into the sky. Shindo would laugh, and add to it. Hano-sensei would smile and ignore it afterwards.
And everyone else would give me disgusted looks.
But all was well, as I was unconcerned of the reactions my peers had towards me. I was unlike them, one could tell simply by looking at me. But on this day, perhaps God was displeased that I had done nothing to stop Shindo from making Reizo so angered, a punishment in which I was unsure whether I relished or despised.
I part ways with Shindo on our walk home about five minutes after our departure. My family is extremely rich, though our source of income remains a mystery to me. Thus, I have always associated my family with Yakuza, though I have yet to have any proof of this. My mother confirms that my father is alive, but is too busy working in France to visit. I highly doubt that he's too busy, but I do not doubt that he is alive, for who else, other then a father hoping his son will succeed him in business, would send his five year old son complete furnishings for an office?
But ridiculous and unused gifts aside, it was a ten minute walk after I had gone straight after the crosswalk before I hit home, with Shindo proceeding left towards a less fortunate section of the neighborhood. And before the gates to my home, stood a girl no more then a year younger then myself, silvery hair not quite white like Reizo's, but with a dead, discolored look about it. It draped down her back and piled on the floor, though the strands dragging through the dirt looked untouched by the earth. Her skin was the palest of pale, her attire a plain white sundress that looked quite invisible against her skin, and, I took note, she was not wearing shoes. She stared up at the gates around my grand-scale home as though they were the gates to heaven, in awe and speechless.
"Can I help you?" I said, taking note that I seemed the complete opposite of her, wearing the black winter uniform for my school, my pale skin not quite as white as hers, with jet black hair that was cut in a choppy, unevenly layered look that draped around my eyes and ears.
She turned her head towards me very slowly, and I took another note that her eyes were the exact shade of blood. Or perhaps, they were the exact shade of a very ripe apple? After all, there was no reason that blood should've been the first noun to compare her eyes to.
"Yes." She said, in a dreamy voice that sounded as if she was surprised to see me. I wasn't quite as surprised as she was. Boys that dressed like me didn't usually live in houses that covered more then one acre.
It was five minutes before she stated what exactly she needed help with. Perhaps she'd been waiting for me to address her first, but my patience seemed to be able to outhold hers, thus, she spoke again in the dreamy voice that made me feel as though I were sleeping.
"Seiaki Shinji?" She asked, a small smile gracing her lips.
I raised an eyebrow, "Yes."
It was now obvious what seemed so strange about this girl. In the five minutes in which she had stared at me, she had not blinked once. I wondered if her eyes were in pain.
"Sendo Seiaki Shinji?" She added, still questioning me.
"S-" I did a doubletake, "Sendo? What about Death? I'm alive, as far as I know."
Her smile grew wider, "Yes. You are alive. That is most unfortunate."
It seemed as if this were a compliment to her, rather then an insult, so I held my tongue. I was quite glad I was alive.
"But you can still perform your job just as well. Seiaki-kou. You may have your locket back."
I was rather repulsed by being called a prince, but put it aside for the moment being as she dropped a locket into my suddenly outstretched hand. Wondering when I'd lifted my arm, I pushed that into the depths of my mind as well as I stared at the locket. It wasn't really a locket at all. It was a smooth silver square, the size of a poker card, that had the tiniest latch on the side. By the looks of it, it was made of stainless steel. Quite a cheap substance, in which I was tempted to tell the girl to just keep it. But first, I wanted to see what was inside this so-called-locket of mine.
My hand was halfway towards the latch on the right side of the smooth metal, but a hand grasped mine before I could get to it.
"Before you open it, you must state to him 'I am the Prince, Aoedo, and Zimono alike. I am Zimono's Sendo, and I am prepared to claim the life before me.'" She smiled, but I was hardly paying attention. The portion of my skin which was in contact with her's stung with cold. I noticed little flecks of ice forming on the surface, when she removed her grasp, seemingly convinced I would no longer advance to open the locket without pronouncing the words.
Indeed, if it meant that she would not touch me again, I would willingly speak to the inanimate object. It wasn't as if I had a reputation to defend.
"Er… I am the Prince," But I found it was still quite awkward to be talking to a locket, "A-…Aoe-do," And the words rather hard to pronounce, "and Zimono alike. I am Zimono's… Sendo… and I am prepared to claim the life before me?"
I looked up at the girl, who was staring down at the locket, which did nothing.
"I didn't think he'd want to come out the first time. Besides, there's no life before you, so I guess Geote is being stubborn." She mused, turning around, "But he shouldn't have any complaints next time."
"Next time?" I deadpanned, "I have to say it again?"
"Quite a few times," She said off-handedly, "But let's head on to the next target now."
"Who are you again?" I finally asked, unable to keep in my rampaging curiousity.
The girl seemed to stop moving altogether for a few moments, and I wondered if I'd just 'taken her life', but she soon turned around and said, "You may call me Hoeten."
"Hoeten." I repeated in an unimpressed tone, wondering how a girl could be dubbed such a hideous name.
"Yes." She said, not catching my disapproval, "But, the next Seiko is two people, not a spirit. They're a couple, and they'll be run over real soon, so we should get there."
I was repulsed yet again, images of a gruesome scene of roadkill flashing across my mind, "Run over?"
"By a moving truck." Hoeten stated lightly, as if the thought didn't bother her at all, "Come on." She said, and she took a step forward, vanishing after a sudden gust of air seemed to snuff her out of sight, like the flame of a candle.
"Where the heck did you go-" I made a move to try and see where she'd went, but by stepping forwards, the minute my foot hit the earth again, I was standing in a place I recognized only because Shinji lived ten houses away from the rather run-down looking house we'd arrived in front of. The front door looked as if it'd been beaten down, clumsily repaired, then beaten down again, while the windows were paneled with wood. I had never lived in such a home, but my most likely unwelcome pity reached out for the inhabitants of this… well… pitiful excuse for a house.
"Here it comes." Hoeten pointed to a man who was pulling out a moth eaten couch from the back of a moving truck. I noticed that the parking brake had not been applied, and as if in slow motion, I saw the man being toppled to the ground first crushed by the leg of the rickety couch, tumbling parallel to the sidewalk. His wife, or at least, the woman, hurried to try and stop the rolling truck, pushing her entire weight against it, but in the end, was crushed along with the man.
No. It was not slow motion. Everything seemed to fast forward. Or wait.
Was this what witnessing death was like? Everything slowing down, but speeding up at the same time? The air thick and heavy and hot yet cold all at once?
I did not yell out for help.
Hoeten pointed at the locket still in my hand, "There now, say it before those strange people in white come along."
As if in a trance, I could hear myself stating the words, my mouth absentmindedly moving to form the sounds, and as if freed from that trance, when the latch practically snapped right off with the force of which the locket whipped open, I stared right into the eyes- no, eye of a… hand?
Indeed, the hand was a gruesome grayish blue, the joints of the fingers extremely angular and the arm jutting out from the shoulder to the tip of the razor sharp claw. There seemed to be no complete body.
"Now then Sendo-kou." I presumed it was the hand speaking, since it was staring right at me, and the baritone voice certainly didn't belong to the dreamy Hoeten or the dead couple underneath the truck, "Where are the Seiko's?"
"Seiko's?" I said, my voice coming out in a much less calm and cool manner as it usually did, "What the heck-"
"They're right over there Geote," Hoeten took light skips towards the truck and pointed underneath, "They've been crushed flat."
"Haaaa," The hand said, the hand seemingly retracting into the palm, "I see their feet." I realized with a great lurch of my stomach that the bloodshot eye had relocated itself to the elbow, "Good catch."
"Wait, what are you going to do to them?!" I suddenly blurted, like a child who couldn't piece two and two together.
The hand, whom Hoeten had addressed as Geote, brought his eye back to the palm, and stared at me, saying, "But this catch seems rather dimwitted. Do you think he's tasty?"
I nearly dropped the locket but the hand caught it before it fell on the floor, shrieking in bloodcurdling fury, "DON'T DROP MY LOCKET YOU MORON BEYOND MORON'S-"
"Alright, alright," Hoeten patted Geote's pointy knuckles as if they didn't look slimy, and as if Geote wasn't a dismembered arm, "Let's stop fighting, I can hear the music now."
As Hoeten put the locket safely back in my hands, it took me even longer to piece two and two together this time around. I heard no music. Geote raised his fingers into the sky and agreed, stating that he heard it too. And only after the 'music' was two streets away did I realize that Geote and Hoeten were referring to the sirens on the ambulance.
"Well, I'll be taking them now…" Geote mumbled, and in a split second, his arm extended over the 12 yards of pavement and concrete, under the truck, and when I saw what was in Geote's grasp, I dropped the locket again, this time Geote's locket saved by Hoeten who murmured that she'd hold on to it this time around instead. But I felt no remorse for dropping the locket. The couple, distinctly transparent, were squirming and trying to escape Geote's vice-grip, yelling for him to spare them. I had never witnessed anything so digusting.
"And so I am prepared," Hoeten said, smiling serenely at the panicked couple, "So I will take it for my own."
Geote snapped back into the locket as quickly as he'd shot out for the truck, and when Hoeten presented the locket to me again, I saw a picture of the two people, smiling and seemingly in the middle of a playful waltz on the front lawn of a house much nicer then the one they'd died in front of.
I felt like retching, but Hoeten frowned. It was the first time I'd seen her do so, and when she did, my sudden onslaught of nausea passed without incident.
"I don't like seeing things that come from inside a person's body, other their their soul." Hoeten's frown dispersed into a smile again as she neatly closed the locket and draped it around my neck, letting it dangle from the black chain.
"It reminds me of death."
~ AN ~
Yes, again. xD; Anyway, apologies if Hoeten and Geote's names are hard to pronounce.
Hoe-eh-Ten
Gee-yo-tay
That's how you say their names. Aoedo is kind of hard to pronounce too, so....
Ay-oh-doh.
I've posted a lot of fanfiction's before, but I've never gotten very many review's, which discourages me, but really honestly shouldn't. *I'm very sorry about my reliance on other people and their opinion's* So if you do read this story, please say something at the end, at the very least.
Please tell me if I've rushed things. I have a tendency to do that. It's PG-13 right now, and I'm pretty sure that it'll stay PG-13, however, much later on in the story (if I get there) the story will up to it's rating. It might even push the PG-13 thing, so you've been warned. :<
Chapter 1: Sendo-kou's First Job
If you could dictate someone's date of death, would you make it sooner, or later?
There was a question that was once popular, an inquiry that required thought and logic for it to be acceptable by my peers. I was never asked the question, as my one and only friend, Takoki Shindo, was never interested in anything that required too much brainpower. But I knew the answer, just as well as I knew the question.
I am Seiaki Shinji. I currently sit first in my class, regardless of whatever subject it is. I am ranked first in grades. I reeled in a good 110% on last night's assignment. I am the only one who made it cleanly over the high jump. And the list is never ending. I will not bore you with it, as I am sure you are more interested in my opinion of death, rather then my accomplishments in life.
If I could dictate someone's date of death, I would leave it as it were.
I was not raised to believe in destiny, but I find that no matter how horrific an enemy of mine, I would not condemn them to an early death. No matter how wonderful a friend, I would not condemn them to watch the people around them leave them behind. But the less intelligent of my class, regardless of the fact that 2-A is of the top grades in my year, still insist that they would make my death come sooner, for that would give them a one-up on test rankings.
Shindo was once asked this very question. He is not a stupid person. But he cannot distinguish the time in which to lie, and the time in which to be honest. Thus, he answered exactly as I have just stated, though without my reasoning. Thus, as usual, the rest of the class turned their backs on him laughing at his stupid answer.
But it was far from stupid.
I knew that. Shindo knew that.
Death was not something to be tampered with, for its fury was greater then a thousand acres of cursed flame, seeking to diminish all life in its path.
"I hear Hano-sensei!" Cried the lookout who was hovering at the door. It was a short period of chaos as chairs scraped, as bottoms fell onto the cold plastic chairs, and as the essentials for class were prepared in less then five seconds, before the door opened to reveal someone who was quite obviously not the cheery Hano-sensei. His serious expression seemed comparable to my own, though one could tell the differences at one glance.
His lavender eyes clashed with my own teal ones, as he seemed to be battling the urge to say something rude to me, the class president. But with the entire class staring at him, displeased that they'd been rushed into their seats on a false alarm, he seemed to think better of it. Indeed, the snowy haired boy was second ranking on the last exam. He claimed that we were unlike in any way, though we both knew better.
I may have had unnaturally black hair obscuring my eyes from view, and he square silver rimmed glasses that reflected the light back at the onlooker, but we were both detatched from the rest of our class.
I may have had smooth lips pierced with two double ended studs, and he chapped lips that were unblemished by metal, but we were both class representative's.
And I may have spent two weeks studying for the exam, while he had taken more then four weeks, but we were both still racing each other for #1.
The only difference is one that I could hardly care searching for. The millimeter in which I was ahead of him in the race, the mere millimeter to me, which seemed like miles to Reizo Akira.
It was fact that both of our desks had been placed at the very front of the classroom because Hano-sensei particularly liked the awkward atmosphere that we exuded when too close to each other. An aura of indifference, coupled with an aura of pure hostility and jealousy seemed to amuse our teacher beyond belief, as he was always provoking Reizo to say something about the fact that for the fifteenth time in a row since we'd began junior high together, I had beaten him to first place on the rankings.
"Akira!" Shindo leaned over, his mussy brown hair jutting in all directions with an unusually large cowlick on the back of his head, "Did you see the test rankings? They've just put them up!"
"I have." Was Reizo's only response. He was as stiff as he looked, with a back that was probably too straight to be good for his spine, and a good student pose, with one foot planted slightly in front of the other underneath his desk, his hands folded on his desk as he awaited Hano-sensei. I could see his face turn slightly purple at my own sitting manner in which consisted of my elbow over the back of the seat, my long legs randomly arranged and sticking out from the bottom of my desk, while my butt was steadily sliding further and further towards the edge of the seat. This seemed to annoy him beyond belief.
I did not have the ability to read minds, but if I did, I would bet a month of not wearing my lip rings that he was wondering how a punk slacker was outclassing him with ease in both academics and athletics.
"Maan, you were one point off this year!" Shindo shook his head, making his hair even messier as he continued to provoke Reizo, "Well, at the rate you're going, you might beat Shinji next semester, right? You catch up by one point each exam!"
"Perhaps." Was the cold answer.
I leaned my head back to face the ceiling, disliking the fact that Shindo sat on my left, Reizo on my right, the both of them talking about me as if I were in the back of the classroom, rather then less then two feet away from the both of them.
"But you know-"
I never found out what was to be known, however, because the door to the classroom slid open and Hano-sensei's cheerful voice called into the room.
"Good Morning my students!" He declared in heavily accented English, "Are you all ready for new day of learning??"
I caught his error in language at once, though I, like Reizo, did not correct him. It was often Hano-sensei's habit to speak in Engrish, rather then proper English. A fact that Reizo disapproved of, by the looks of his purpling expression.
"We will begin by handing in the report on the French Revolution assigned three days ago. Shindo, please collect them."
"Right away Hano-sensei." Shindo replied, standing up and moving to pick up the thick wads of paper, laden with words class 2-D couldn't even hope to understand.
The day wore on, with Hano-sensei particularly enjoying the heightened level of anger seeming to ooze off of Reizo, freshly angered by Shindo, and with Reizo continuing to feverishly try and complete the assignments in a more logically correct way then I did. Sometimes people would ask me how I did everything so well, ruling out the possibility that I beat up underclassmen to do them for me, since I could do classwork just as easily, and I would give them the most pompous answer I could think of.
"Sometimes," I would begin with one of my rare smiles, whether fake or real, "God creates perfect people."
Reizo would often snort into the book he was reading, or press too hard on his pencil so that the lead broke and soared into the sky. Shindo would laugh, and add to it. Hano-sensei would smile and ignore it afterwards.
And everyone else would give me disgusted looks.
But all was well, as I was unconcerned of the reactions my peers had towards me. I was unlike them, one could tell simply by looking at me. But on this day, perhaps God was displeased that I had done nothing to stop Shindo from making Reizo so angered, a punishment in which I was unsure whether I relished or despised.
I part ways with Shindo on our walk home about five minutes after our departure. My family is extremely rich, though our source of income remains a mystery to me. Thus, I have always associated my family with Yakuza, though I have yet to have any proof of this. My mother confirms that my father is alive, but is too busy working in France to visit. I highly doubt that he's too busy, but I do not doubt that he is alive, for who else, other then a father hoping his son will succeed him in business, would send his five year old son complete furnishings for an office?
But ridiculous and unused gifts aside, it was a ten minute walk after I had gone straight after the crosswalk before I hit home, with Shindo proceeding left towards a less fortunate section of the neighborhood. And before the gates to my home, stood a girl no more then a year younger then myself, silvery hair not quite white like Reizo's, but with a dead, discolored look about it. It draped down her back and piled on the floor, though the strands dragging through the dirt looked untouched by the earth. Her skin was the palest of pale, her attire a plain white sundress that looked quite invisible against her skin, and, I took note, she was not wearing shoes. She stared up at the gates around my grand-scale home as though they were the gates to heaven, in awe and speechless.
"Can I help you?" I said, taking note that I seemed the complete opposite of her, wearing the black winter uniform for my school, my pale skin not quite as white as hers, with jet black hair that was cut in a choppy, unevenly layered look that draped around my eyes and ears.
She turned her head towards me very slowly, and I took another note that her eyes were the exact shade of blood. Or perhaps, they were the exact shade of a very ripe apple? After all, there was no reason that blood should've been the first noun to compare her eyes to.
"Yes." She said, in a dreamy voice that sounded as if she was surprised to see me. I wasn't quite as surprised as she was. Boys that dressed like me didn't usually live in houses that covered more then one acre.
It was five minutes before she stated what exactly she needed help with. Perhaps she'd been waiting for me to address her first, but my patience seemed to be able to outhold hers, thus, she spoke again in the dreamy voice that made me feel as though I were sleeping.
"Seiaki Shinji?" She asked, a small smile gracing her lips.
I raised an eyebrow, "Yes."
It was now obvious what seemed so strange about this girl. In the five minutes in which she had stared at me, she had not blinked once. I wondered if her eyes were in pain.
"Sendo Seiaki Shinji?" She added, still questioning me.
"S-" I did a doubletake, "Sendo? What about Death? I'm alive, as far as I know."
Her smile grew wider, "Yes. You are alive. That is most unfortunate."
It seemed as if this were a compliment to her, rather then an insult, so I held my tongue. I was quite glad I was alive.
"But you can still perform your job just as well. Seiaki-kou. You may have your locket back."
I was rather repulsed by being called a prince, but put it aside for the moment being as she dropped a locket into my suddenly outstretched hand. Wondering when I'd lifted my arm, I pushed that into the depths of my mind as well as I stared at the locket. It wasn't really a locket at all. It was a smooth silver square, the size of a poker card, that had the tiniest latch on the side. By the looks of it, it was made of stainless steel. Quite a cheap substance, in which I was tempted to tell the girl to just keep it. But first, I wanted to see what was inside this so-called-locket of mine.
My hand was halfway towards the latch on the right side of the smooth metal, but a hand grasped mine before I could get to it.
"Before you open it, you must state to him 'I am the Prince, Aoedo, and Zimono alike. I am Zimono's Sendo, and I am prepared to claim the life before me.'" She smiled, but I was hardly paying attention. The portion of my skin which was in contact with her's stung with cold. I noticed little flecks of ice forming on the surface, when she removed her grasp, seemingly convinced I would no longer advance to open the locket without pronouncing the words.
Indeed, if it meant that she would not touch me again, I would willingly speak to the inanimate object. It wasn't as if I had a reputation to defend.
"Er… I am the Prince," But I found it was still quite awkward to be talking to a locket, "A-…Aoe-do," And the words rather hard to pronounce, "and Zimono alike. I am Zimono's… Sendo… and I am prepared to claim the life before me?"
I looked up at the girl, who was staring down at the locket, which did nothing.
"I didn't think he'd want to come out the first time. Besides, there's no life before you, so I guess Geote is being stubborn." She mused, turning around, "But he shouldn't have any complaints next time."
"Next time?" I deadpanned, "I have to say it again?"
"Quite a few times," She said off-handedly, "But let's head on to the next target now."
"Who are you again?" I finally asked, unable to keep in my rampaging curiousity.
The girl seemed to stop moving altogether for a few moments, and I wondered if I'd just 'taken her life', but she soon turned around and said, "You may call me Hoeten."
"Hoeten." I repeated in an unimpressed tone, wondering how a girl could be dubbed such a hideous name.
"Yes." She said, not catching my disapproval, "But, the next Seiko is two people, not a spirit. They're a couple, and they'll be run over real soon, so we should get there."
I was repulsed yet again, images of a gruesome scene of roadkill flashing across my mind, "Run over?"
"By a moving truck." Hoeten stated lightly, as if the thought didn't bother her at all, "Come on." She said, and she took a step forward, vanishing after a sudden gust of air seemed to snuff her out of sight, like the flame of a candle.
"Where the heck did you go-" I made a move to try and see where she'd went, but by stepping forwards, the minute my foot hit the earth again, I was standing in a place I recognized only because Shinji lived ten houses away from the rather run-down looking house we'd arrived in front of. The front door looked as if it'd been beaten down, clumsily repaired, then beaten down again, while the windows were paneled with wood. I had never lived in such a home, but my most likely unwelcome pity reached out for the inhabitants of this… well… pitiful excuse for a house.
"Here it comes." Hoeten pointed to a man who was pulling out a moth eaten couch from the back of a moving truck. I noticed that the parking brake had not been applied, and as if in slow motion, I saw the man being toppled to the ground first crushed by the leg of the rickety couch, tumbling parallel to the sidewalk. His wife, or at least, the woman, hurried to try and stop the rolling truck, pushing her entire weight against it, but in the end, was crushed along with the man.
No. It was not slow motion. Everything seemed to fast forward. Or wait.
Was this what witnessing death was like? Everything slowing down, but speeding up at the same time? The air thick and heavy and hot yet cold all at once?
I did not yell out for help.
Hoeten pointed at the locket still in my hand, "There now, say it before those strange people in white come along."
As if in a trance, I could hear myself stating the words, my mouth absentmindedly moving to form the sounds, and as if freed from that trance, when the latch practically snapped right off with the force of which the locket whipped open, I stared right into the eyes- no, eye of a… hand?
Indeed, the hand was a gruesome grayish blue, the joints of the fingers extremely angular and the arm jutting out from the shoulder to the tip of the razor sharp claw. There seemed to be no complete body.
"Now then Sendo-kou." I presumed it was the hand speaking, since it was staring right at me, and the baritone voice certainly didn't belong to the dreamy Hoeten or the dead couple underneath the truck, "Where are the Seiko's?"
"Seiko's?" I said, my voice coming out in a much less calm and cool manner as it usually did, "What the heck-"
"They're right over there Geote," Hoeten took light skips towards the truck and pointed underneath, "They've been crushed flat."
"Haaaa," The hand said, the hand seemingly retracting into the palm, "I see their feet." I realized with a great lurch of my stomach that the bloodshot eye had relocated itself to the elbow, "Good catch."
"Wait, what are you going to do to them?!" I suddenly blurted, like a child who couldn't piece two and two together.
The hand, whom Hoeten had addressed as Geote, brought his eye back to the palm, and stared at me, saying, "But this catch seems rather dimwitted. Do you think he's tasty?"
I nearly dropped the locket but the hand caught it before it fell on the floor, shrieking in bloodcurdling fury, "DON'T DROP MY LOCKET YOU MORON BEYOND MORON'S-"
"Alright, alright," Hoeten patted Geote's pointy knuckles as if they didn't look slimy, and as if Geote wasn't a dismembered arm, "Let's stop fighting, I can hear the music now."
As Hoeten put the locket safely back in my hands, it took me even longer to piece two and two together this time around. I heard no music. Geote raised his fingers into the sky and agreed, stating that he heard it too. And only after the 'music' was two streets away did I realize that Geote and Hoeten were referring to the sirens on the ambulance.
"Well, I'll be taking them now…" Geote mumbled, and in a split second, his arm extended over the 12 yards of pavement and concrete, under the truck, and when I saw what was in Geote's grasp, I dropped the locket again, this time Geote's locket saved by Hoeten who murmured that she'd hold on to it this time around instead. But I felt no remorse for dropping the locket. The couple, distinctly transparent, were squirming and trying to escape Geote's vice-grip, yelling for him to spare them. I had never witnessed anything so digusting.
"And so I am prepared," Hoeten said, smiling serenely at the panicked couple, "So I will take it for my own."
Geote snapped back into the locket as quickly as he'd shot out for the truck, and when Hoeten presented the locket to me again, I saw a picture of the two people, smiling and seemingly in the middle of a playful waltz on the front lawn of a house much nicer then the one they'd died in front of.
I felt like retching, but Hoeten frowned. It was the first time I'd seen her do so, and when she did, my sudden onslaught of nausea passed without incident.
"I don't like seeing things that come from inside a person's body, other their their soul." Hoeten's frown dispersed into a smile again as she neatly closed the locket and draped it around my neck, letting it dangle from the black chain.
"It reminds me of death."
~ AN ~
Yes, again. xD; Anyway, apologies if Hoeten and Geote's names are hard to pronounce.
Hoe-eh-Ten
Gee-yo-tay
That's how you say their names. Aoedo is kind of hard to pronounce too, so....
Ay-oh-doh.
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