Faust M. Dottore (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
corvusaraneae) wrote2016-12-08 11:13 pm
corvusaraneae) wrote2016-12-08 11:13 pm
(no subject)
Title: Year 122 Redux
Wordcount: 2082
What: Post TFS shenanigans, the promise of 122 years
Status: finished
Notes: ...how this ended up 500 words longer than the original, I'll never know.
The day Amaterasu announced they had found a way to send everyone home, Ronald didn't quite know how to feel. As much as he had missed London, he had also grown acclimated to the life of a god. He was getting used to being the death, not just a death. The people he met were interesting, but above all he met him. Kimihiro Watanuki was an interesting child. He was unpredictable and fiery, honest in his emotions and passionate. Even more unpredictably, Ronald had fallen in love. He didn't see it coming but he welcomed it nontheless. It had been tumultuous, it had been difficult but it was worth it in the end.
But he turned around after he gave the other god one last kiss. "Well," he declared, fighting the tears that came. Tears he didn't want the other to see, which was why he was quick to turn away.
"I'll see you in a hundred and twenty two years then! Don't miss me too much, mind. It'll be as if we'd never parted. Five minutes, tops."
And with that, he stepped though the portal that had been opened for them by the sun goddess. Just one step and he would be sent back to his proper time and proper world. When his foot landed, it would be back in London where he was just a death. Not the death.
A hundred and twenty two years.
Once, he made that promise to someone else. But what was supposed to be a side trip turned into the main journey.
Year one, day one had Grell holding him in worry. She had so many questions, all of which he promised to answer in due time. Yes, he had lost his arm. No, it likely wouldn't grow back. Yes, he was alright. William sent him to have himself looked over by the infirmary. Despite his words being cold, concern was a difficult thing to hide when your eyes were as intense as William T. Spears'. The infirmary sent their rookie back with a clean bill of health - despite the missing limb. Even curiouser was the fact that the point of severing was completely healed, as if he'd had his arm missing for years.
By year three, he'd gotten used to work again. Reaping was in his soul, burned into his very essence. Doing the job was like riding a bike: your body never forgot how no matter how long you'd been away. Sure, piloting his scythe the way he used to certainly took a little getting used to but the one thing William did have to take note of was how much more efficient the boy was at the job. He was never late and turned his paperwork in on time. Whatever happened to him, it had molded him into a model reaper. It was only when he caught Ronald hard at work well into the night he had to approach him.
"S'matter, Mister Spears?" Ronald asked, catching sight of his supervisor standing by the side of his desk.
"That report. Is that the Cullingham case?"
"Yessir. Just finished the reap this afteroon, thought I'd get a headstart on the report, is all!"
"You are aware that report isn't due until next week."
"Yeah, I know. S'just didn't fancy allowing the lot to pile up, is all."
"...you've changed, Ronald Knox."
"Haven't changed that much, sir. I'd just like to be a respectable reaper when I see him again, is all."
"You have a hundred and nineteen years ahead of you. Keep this up and I'm certain you'll be well on your way."
By year ten, Grell had memorized all his stories. There are so many times and so many ways you can tell one tale before you realize you're repeating yourself. No matter how many tales he had, he had told them all over and over. It helped him recall every detail. He told her about the two times he risked his neck for a boy - two different boys at that. Both times he'd nearly lost more than a limb. He'd told her about how, in a near drunken stupor, he'd kissed one of those boys and changed his life forever. He also told her about the how they carried on, more than friends and less than lovers. She deemed his life worthy of a drama, he deemed her assessment to be right on the nose.
By year fifteen, he finds it harder to remember certain things. He doesn't remember the minor details. Conversations they've had, arguments they've had, times they'd chanced upon each other on the street and decided to go-- where did they go again? But he does recall the important things: where to go in a hundred and seven years. The way he fell a little harder when Kimihiro opened that bottle for him without prompting. The first unofficial date they went on and the first official one. These little things were what he held on to when he found the smaller, less significant memories were starting to fade from view. A hundred and seven more years to go. If this quest was a child, it could barely be able to drink. Keep it together, Knox. You're almost at the double digits. He scolds himself like this, and often... especially when some memories start to fade which only makes him cling to the more vibrant ones harder than ever.
In year twenty three, Ronald pauses as he passes a mirror. There's a frown as he looks himself over. Hopefully, Kimihiro would be able to recognize him when he found him again. He notices certain changes: his shoulders have filled out a bit more and perhaps his hair got a little longer. But he still walks with that clumsy gait acquired from trying to balance himself with one arm less. Sure, the missing arm got him a bit of attention but it led to having the need to relearn certain things. Writing, for one, took a little longer. Typing, even moreso. He hated feeling so helpless. It's in that moment where he realizes he's fallen into old habits: smiling off his worries and trying to retain a sense of dignity despite his newfound disability. It's with a sigh of nostalgia when he glances over at one of his colleagues and asks him to open his ink bottle for him.
Year 50 is a busy year for everyone, so much so that he doesn't realize he's hit a milestone when it passes. Between upwards of forty reaps a day and new recruits of his own to train, he only notices the date when he finally sets his head down and realizes he can barely remember what the boy sounds like. Before he closes his eyes, he looks at the calendar and congratulates himself. He's gone this far. Seventy two more years to go. Seventy two more years until he can see him again… that is if he doesn't kill himself with work, he laughs. It's gallows humor. But then he's a reaper.
Thankfully by year 100, he isn't as busy. Twenty two more years, he reminds himself inbetween the classes of recruits he's been touring around the facility. Twenty two more years. He's in the home stretch. But it's been a long century and Ronald has a department of his own. Once Mister Spears had been given a promotion to the Board, someone needed to take over Dispatch. Grell's record wasn't spotless. Naturally, the reins were passed over to the recruit that had improved himself after that one day where he reappeared with less an arm and a added fervor. But the newbies had heard his story. The rumors spread from his own agents to the new hopefuls wanting to join them. "That's him." "He IS missing an arm." "How d'you think he reaps?" is what he hears muttered amongst these fresh faces when he first meets them.
"Was it true, Mister Knox?" one of them asks as he leads them from the weapons development room to the library. And he tells them it is. Every word of it. He'd been that young once. Ronald tells them the stories, tells them of the boy he'd met in a world far from this one in a time that has yet come to pass. Even if it had been a hundred years, he remembers his voice and those mismatched eyes as if it had only been a hundred minutes.
Time is a funny thing, he realizes in year 115 as he packs his bags. Give or take a few years and he would have been sent to that place to become a god... yet here he was, packing to complete his transfer. The closer the day got, the more he had been racking his brain trying to find a way to get to the Japanese department. But as luck would have it, a memo had arrived from Japan to the other departments. They had just lost a manager and were looking for a replacement. Of course, he'd applied. Of course, he'd been accepted given the fact he already knew how to read and speak. No further training was needed. They needed him right away.
"I hope he's everything you remember him to be, Ronnie." Grell finally says as she sees him off at the airport.
Ronald sets down his bag and gives her a hug, the only one he'd ever given her before. "Fairly sure he will be." he grins back.
After he embraces a surprised William, he picks up his bag and runs to board his plane. Seven years. Plenty of time for him to acclimate himself once again. Plenty of time for him to become a reaper of proper standing. He can't help but think back to that odd little thing called inevitability.
Seven years will pass by in an eyeblink.
In year 120, he can't help but wonder what the other him is up to. It doesn't surprise him he doesn't quite remember. Was he answering a prayer? Was he battling ayakashi? Even as he looks out the window of his office, he realizes the cherry blossoms are in bloom and he can't help but wonder if that's what he was up to. Was he under a cherry tree, stealing a kiss from a boy who had practically begged for it? Or was he kissing a boy he practically begged the heavens to stay with? Two more years, he decides. He's almost there and two years will pass in no time at all. It's something he's come to remind himself over and over and over.
In year 122, he gets his personal assistant to cancel all his appointments for the day. On the day it arrives, he's bolted out the office after leaving last minute instructions for everyone. He knows his boys can carry on work without him. They know what today is. No one works under Ronald Knox without knowing when year 122 is coming up.
He knows where to go... on principle. Kimihiro had walked him down that street and he'd burned the location in his head. But he's never walked down that street before. Time, as he recalls, is a finicky thing. Mess one thing up and you could change everything. So he'd stayed away from that particular street and that particular part of town. He didn't want to risk being spotted before they met, after all. Sure, he was a little taller. Sure, he may have become a little leaner. Sure, his shoulders may have grown a little broader. Sure, his suit was more befitting a supervisor now compared to the thing he was wearing when he was just a death.
The reaper stops when he reaches a fence he had never noticed before. He was certain this place was an empty lot when he passed it briefly. His hand reaches out to touch the wall when he stops. This must be it. The place death wasn't allowed enter... but for now, he had reason to.
He adjusts his tie and breathes in. Nerves? No. Of course not. Ronald Knox never got nervous. It simply wasn't his way.
It was when he hears "Watanuki, get the door. You're going to keep your guest waiting." from inside that he finally relaxes. At least he was at the right place.
"Didn't I tell you it'd be just five minutes?" Ronald grinned finally as he crosses the foyer to that open door.
Wordcount: 2082
What: Post TFS shenanigans, the promise of 122 years
Status: finished
Notes: ...how this ended up 500 words longer than the original, I'll never know.
The day Amaterasu announced they had found a way to send everyone home, Ronald didn't quite know how to feel. As much as he had missed London, he had also grown acclimated to the life of a god. He was getting used to being the death, not just a death. The people he met were interesting, but above all he met him. Kimihiro Watanuki was an interesting child. He was unpredictable and fiery, honest in his emotions and passionate. Even more unpredictably, Ronald had fallen in love. He didn't see it coming but he welcomed it nontheless. It had been tumultuous, it had been difficult but it was worth it in the end.
But he turned around after he gave the other god one last kiss. "Well," he declared, fighting the tears that came. Tears he didn't want the other to see, which was why he was quick to turn away.
"I'll see you in a hundred and twenty two years then! Don't miss me too much, mind. It'll be as if we'd never parted. Five minutes, tops."
And with that, he stepped though the portal that had been opened for them by the sun goddess. Just one step and he would be sent back to his proper time and proper world. When his foot landed, it would be back in London where he was just a death. Not the death.
A hundred and twenty two years.
Once, he made that promise to someone else. But what was supposed to be a side trip turned into the main journey.
Year one, day one had Grell holding him in worry. She had so many questions, all of which he promised to answer in due time. Yes, he had lost his arm. No, it likely wouldn't grow back. Yes, he was alright. William sent him to have himself looked over by the infirmary. Despite his words being cold, concern was a difficult thing to hide when your eyes were as intense as William T. Spears'. The infirmary sent their rookie back with a clean bill of health - despite the missing limb. Even curiouser was the fact that the point of severing was completely healed, as if he'd had his arm missing for years.
By year three, he'd gotten used to work again. Reaping was in his soul, burned into his very essence. Doing the job was like riding a bike: your body never forgot how no matter how long you'd been away. Sure, piloting his scythe the way he used to certainly took a little getting used to but the one thing William did have to take note of was how much more efficient the boy was at the job. He was never late and turned his paperwork in on time. Whatever happened to him, it had molded him into a model reaper. It was only when he caught Ronald hard at work well into the night he had to approach him.
"S'matter, Mister Spears?" Ronald asked, catching sight of his supervisor standing by the side of his desk.
"That report. Is that the Cullingham case?"
"Yessir. Just finished the reap this afteroon, thought I'd get a headstart on the report, is all!"
"You are aware that report isn't due until next week."
"Yeah, I know. S'just didn't fancy allowing the lot to pile up, is all."
"...you've changed, Ronald Knox."
"Haven't changed that much, sir. I'd just like to be a respectable reaper when I see him again, is all."
"You have a hundred and nineteen years ahead of you. Keep this up and I'm certain you'll be well on your way."
By year ten, Grell had memorized all his stories. There are so many times and so many ways you can tell one tale before you realize you're repeating yourself. No matter how many tales he had, he had told them all over and over. It helped him recall every detail. He told her about the two times he risked his neck for a boy - two different boys at that. Both times he'd nearly lost more than a limb. He'd told her about how, in a near drunken stupor, he'd kissed one of those boys and changed his life forever. He also told her about the how they carried on, more than friends and less than lovers. She deemed his life worthy of a drama, he deemed her assessment to be right on the nose.
By year fifteen, he finds it harder to remember certain things. He doesn't remember the minor details. Conversations they've had, arguments they've had, times they'd chanced upon each other on the street and decided to go-- where did they go again? But he does recall the important things: where to go in a hundred and seven years. The way he fell a little harder when Kimihiro opened that bottle for him without prompting. The first unofficial date they went on and the first official one. These little things were what he held on to when he found the smaller, less significant memories were starting to fade from view. A hundred and seven more years to go. If this quest was a child, it could barely be able to drink. Keep it together, Knox. You're almost at the double digits. He scolds himself like this, and often... especially when some memories start to fade which only makes him cling to the more vibrant ones harder than ever.
In year twenty three, Ronald pauses as he passes a mirror. There's a frown as he looks himself over. Hopefully, Kimihiro would be able to recognize him when he found him again. He notices certain changes: his shoulders have filled out a bit more and perhaps his hair got a little longer. But he still walks with that clumsy gait acquired from trying to balance himself with one arm less. Sure, the missing arm got him a bit of attention but it led to having the need to relearn certain things. Writing, for one, took a little longer. Typing, even moreso. He hated feeling so helpless. It's in that moment where he realizes he's fallen into old habits: smiling off his worries and trying to retain a sense of dignity despite his newfound disability. It's with a sigh of nostalgia when he glances over at one of his colleagues and asks him to open his ink bottle for him.
Year 50 is a busy year for everyone, so much so that he doesn't realize he's hit a milestone when it passes. Between upwards of forty reaps a day and new recruits of his own to train, he only notices the date when he finally sets his head down and realizes he can barely remember what the boy sounds like. Before he closes his eyes, he looks at the calendar and congratulates himself. He's gone this far. Seventy two more years to go. Seventy two more years until he can see him again… that is if he doesn't kill himself with work, he laughs. It's gallows humor. But then he's a reaper.
Thankfully by year 100, he isn't as busy. Twenty two more years, he reminds himself inbetween the classes of recruits he's been touring around the facility. Twenty two more years. He's in the home stretch. But it's been a long century and Ronald has a department of his own. Once Mister Spears had been given a promotion to the Board, someone needed to take over Dispatch. Grell's record wasn't spotless. Naturally, the reins were passed over to the recruit that had improved himself after that one day where he reappeared with less an arm and a added fervor. But the newbies had heard his story. The rumors spread from his own agents to the new hopefuls wanting to join them. "That's him." "He IS missing an arm." "How d'you think he reaps?" is what he hears muttered amongst these fresh faces when he first meets them.
"Was it true, Mister Knox?" one of them asks as he leads them from the weapons development room to the library. And he tells them it is. Every word of it. He'd been that young once. Ronald tells them the stories, tells them of the boy he'd met in a world far from this one in a time that has yet come to pass. Even if it had been a hundred years, he remembers his voice and those mismatched eyes as if it had only been a hundred minutes.
Time is a funny thing, he realizes in year 115 as he packs his bags. Give or take a few years and he would have been sent to that place to become a god... yet here he was, packing to complete his transfer. The closer the day got, the more he had been racking his brain trying to find a way to get to the Japanese department. But as luck would have it, a memo had arrived from Japan to the other departments. They had just lost a manager and were looking for a replacement. Of course, he'd applied. Of course, he'd been accepted given the fact he already knew how to read and speak. No further training was needed. They needed him right away.
"I hope he's everything you remember him to be, Ronnie." Grell finally says as she sees him off at the airport.
Ronald sets down his bag and gives her a hug, the only one he'd ever given her before. "Fairly sure he will be." he grins back.
After he embraces a surprised William, he picks up his bag and runs to board his plane. Seven years. Plenty of time for him to acclimate himself once again. Plenty of time for him to become a reaper of proper standing. He can't help but think back to that odd little thing called inevitability.
Seven years will pass by in an eyeblink.
In year 120, he can't help but wonder what the other him is up to. It doesn't surprise him he doesn't quite remember. Was he answering a prayer? Was he battling ayakashi? Even as he looks out the window of his office, he realizes the cherry blossoms are in bloom and he can't help but wonder if that's what he was up to. Was he under a cherry tree, stealing a kiss from a boy who had practically begged for it? Or was he kissing a boy he practically begged the heavens to stay with? Two more years, he decides. He's almost there and two years will pass in no time at all. It's something he's come to remind himself over and over and over.
In year 122, he gets his personal assistant to cancel all his appointments for the day. On the day it arrives, he's bolted out the office after leaving last minute instructions for everyone. He knows his boys can carry on work without him. They know what today is. No one works under Ronald Knox without knowing when year 122 is coming up.
He knows where to go... on principle. Kimihiro had walked him down that street and he'd burned the location in his head. But he's never walked down that street before. Time, as he recalls, is a finicky thing. Mess one thing up and you could change everything. So he'd stayed away from that particular street and that particular part of town. He didn't want to risk being spotted before they met, after all. Sure, he was a little taller. Sure, he may have become a little leaner. Sure, his shoulders may have grown a little broader. Sure, his suit was more befitting a supervisor now compared to the thing he was wearing when he was just a death.
The reaper stops when he reaches a fence he had never noticed before. He was certain this place was an empty lot when he passed it briefly. His hand reaches out to touch the wall when he stops. This must be it. The place death wasn't allowed enter... but for now, he had reason to.
He adjusts his tie and breathes in. Nerves? No. Of course not. Ronald Knox never got nervous. It simply wasn't his way.
It was when he hears "Watanuki, get the door. You're going to keep your guest waiting." from inside that he finally relaxes. At least he was at the right place.
"Didn't I tell you it'd be just five minutes?" Ronald grinned finally as he crosses the foyer to that open door.
no subject
Watanuki stared at Ronald, before glancing to the time on a clock. He'd barely been back in Yuuko's shop. But one thing was for sure.
"...Seven minutes," The young man stated, and there was a smile, the smile Ronald has not seen for over a hundred years.
"You're late," He added, but he closed the gap between them, pressed against that chest, harder, broader, things he noticed immediately, as for him, time did not pass as it had for his beloved. Watanuki looked to the blond, and that same smile widened, just a little.
"Even so," He replied softly. "I'm glad you came... my prince."
The kiss that followed after... Watanuki prayed it was worth 122 years.