oddsandends | 117th ♫ | aren't i filthy? why won't you kill me?

No.

[The answer comes instantly. He knows he's acting irrationally, he knows he's just proving her right. But the thought of anyone getting close to him right now is--is--

pinned beneath Natasha's weight, her knees pressed hard into his back, the sash tightening around his throat

Brook sucks in another strained breath to convince himself he can, reminds himself again that he doesn't have to, he's been a reaper for a hundred years and nothing can hurt him, and presses his eyes into the sleeve of his T-shirt to blot away the damp evidence otherwise. His other hand, working blindly, finds the cover of the book and closes it. Taking it, he stands, letting his still-quivering arm fall away.]

Why. So you can screw things up for me by trying to take me out? You know that's a mistake.

[He keeps his back to her as he reshelves the book at random, and his muscles are tense and hunched.]

I don't want to have to kill you.

Edited 2023-09-04 20:12 (UTC)

[ There's a pause. If he glances back at her in the silence, he'll see a look of total befuddlement on her face – worn perhaps a little more honestly than she might have liked to.

The threat sails right over her head. Right now, it's the much weightier accusation that's snagging on her. Though if her expression is anything to go by, it's out of pure puzzlement above any other emotion. ]

You really think that's what's on my mind right now? [ The change in her tone, out of that soft almost dreamy tenderness to flat confusion, is a little jarring. ] Even if I took you by surprise, there's no way I'd ever manage to kill you or anyone else here. I'm not that stupid or desperate.

[ Not yet, anyway.

As far as she knows. ]

I don't want to end up killing anyone and even more than that, I'd really prefer not to die.

[Brook does look back, muscles tight around his eyes as if bracing himself for retaliation. When none arises, all that tension in him lessens, but if the uncomfortable look on his face is anything to go by, her confusion hasn't exactly put him at ease.

He stands there a few seconds longer, weighing his options, before sighing and trudging towards her table. He flops into a seat across from where she stands. His body is still angled away from her, but with an apologetic slump.]

...No. I don't, really.

[Brook likes Ai. Or doesn't mind her too much, anyway. She asks him for help sometimes, which gives him something to do, something that isn't lying on his back in his dorm wishing for a social media feed to doomscroll. Without his ability to see Sinners' Marks, he can't tell if her soft, gentle mien is genuine or some maniacal ploy to lower everyone's guard, and she's actually a money-crazed serial killer or something. He's killed tons of sinners like that.

But all she's had him do are things like fetch people for a talent show, or stand guard in the kitchen to make sure no one poisons the tea while the cooks are distracted, or just sit nearby while she pokes around at something and yammers. Enabling her stupid little acts of friendliness. None of it's been unpleasant.

He has both his bare feet up on the seat; his hands grip the edge of it in front of him. It's funny how the long "ears" of the ribbon tied around Brook's chin--the ribbon which is, to all appearances, an inanimate accessory--often seem to reflect his mood. They droop all the way forward as he sits there, hanging his head.]

Sorry. Maybe you wouldn't, I guess. I don't... really know what anybody's thinking.

[His fingers tighten around the edge of his seat.]

Never have.

[ As she watches him flop over, somehow a little smaller and sadder for having let the tension and anxious energy drain out of him, she feels a knot of her own tension heavy in her chest come just a little looser and she allows her breath to come puffing out in a sigh. She's not afraid of Brook - at least, she doesn't think she is - but one of the things she's learned since getting here is how quickly someone can turn from a person she's not afraid of to an active threat with the right provocation. And if what's been going on this week isn't provocation, then what is?

But she doesn't think Brook has it in him to hurt her. At least not right now. As standoffish as his face makes him look, with that cute ribbon he's surprisingly easy to read. Even for someone like Ai.

She turns away as well, leaning back against the table and keeping her gaze steadily on a pile of books toppled over at the bottom of the bookshelf. ]

That makes two of us. It's always kind of hard but it's gotten ten times harder since getting here. Ordinary people I can usually figure out eventually, but nobody here is really all that ordinary to me.

[ A pause - and then a slightly bitter laugh huffs out of her. ]

Or if they were when they got here, they sure aren't now.

Ordinary people...

[He tries to summon a memory of 'ordinary.' With the flashback still searing the back of his eyes, he thinks, well, the maid who'd been congratulating him was probably ordinary, right? Even though the scene has played some fifty times this week, it's so hard to hold onto any details about her. Normal brown hair. Normal boring body.

The pity and revulsion on her face as she watched him die, not lifting a finger. Was that normal, too?

Brook shakes his head.]

I don't remember what they're like. I've spent too much time only seeing the worst kind of sinners, I guess.

[He looks back at her now, still hunched in his wary animal position, but the look on his face is humanly curious.]

You're not ordinary, either, right? Because you're an idol... and whatever else.

[ Ai laughs. Facing away from him as she still is, there's no way of reading her face but... it sure sounds like a real laugh.

Or close enough, anyway. ]

Got it in one! Idols are pretty different from an ordinary person. Or rather, you have to be pretty different from an ordinary person to make it as an idol.

[ Saitou himself had said it when he'd recruited her, after all: "It's not a job normal folks are suited for in the first place."

It'd hurt a little bit to hear someone else say it – to confirm that she was in fact abnormal or lacking in some way. But at the same time... there'd been something strangely hopeful about knowing that there was somewhere a person like her could belong even so.

Whether she'd actually found it was up for debate. But the hope had been enough to keep her going. ]

But compared to some of the other people here... I mean, we've got princesses and scientists and people from way, way in the future! I'm a little less exciting in comparison. I'm just an idol, after all.

[...Hold on. He turns more fully towards her.]

You have to know all the secrets to popularity, though. Right?

[ Ai throws her head back and laughs, hard enough to make her shoulders shake. ]

Jeez, if only! It'd make my job a whole heck of a lot easier. But if there's any special secret to it, then I sure don't know it. Being an idol is about thirty percent hard work and seventy percent luck. You can work your butt off at being pretty and cute but you have to strike at the right time to really make a dent.

Oh.

[After a beat, he rests his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm, sighing. Maybe he's putting on a casual act to self-soothe in front of her. Maybe it genuinely helps him expel the hourly nightmare they're forced to endure.]

I was gonna ask you how to get more followers on my blog, but if it's mostly luck... then I guess it doesn't matter what kind of content I post.

Most idols don't even run their own blogs, y'know. A lot of the stuff you see on Twitter and anyplace else online is all their managers or some social media intern. If Miyako-san was here, she'd be able to tell you all her trade secrets.

[ Miyako. Saying her name out loud makes her heart hurt in her chest a little bit. Aqua and Ruby are never far from her thoughts – how could they be, especially this week? – but the ache there is different. She's almost gotten used to it. Remembering everyone else she's missing while she's stuck here...

The sting isn't worse. But it's just different enough that she hasn't hardened herself to it yet. ]

If you have a bunch of followers, they must be wondering what you're up to now you're not posting.

I just got to a hundred followers recently. [Spoken with the pride of someone who genuinely thinks that's a good number.] After only five hundred weekly episodes. Or something.

[...Brook has one hundred followers after blogging regularly for... ten years...?]

Anyway, they probably assume I'm dead.

[...]

Which, I mean, yeah, but obviously I'm not public about that stuff. That's what it usually means when you suddenly stop hearing from someone like that, though. You figure that disease got them, or they were murdered or something. Happens all the time these days.

A hundred followers? Really? [ ........... no, she absolutely can't be the one to break that to him. ] Wow, a whole one hundred people recognizing your hard work... that must be exciting.

[ It's a little out of her usual scope of operations in the wrong direction but... she does remember the first time she heard one of their CDs sold over a hundred copies and what an unimaginably huge number that'd seen at the time. She's a little numb to numbers now, but she could recall a spark of that baffled excitement at least. ]

Maybe with any luck, they'll just be waiting for you to get back. I mean, if they thought you were worth following in the first place and all.

Yeah, maybe.

[Maybe... one or two of them have actually interacted with him in any meaningful way? Even if it was just to hate on something he'd said or make fun of his looks. There are usernames he recognizes as liking more than one of his posts. He'd. Miss them, he guesses, if he never saw them again.

That's how it is, though. Humans die. One sinner a day is unlucky enough to find themselves killed by him. Has he ever killed one of his followers? Statistically unlikely, but it's possible. Huh.

He glances at Ai, tapping the fingers of his free hand idly against the table. As an actual pop idol, if she were a Reaper, the likelihood she'd end up killing one of her fans would be a hell of a lot higher, wouldn't it? He wonders how she'd handle it.]

Is that what you're hoping for? That they're waiting for you to get back?

[He means her fans, but...]

Mm. I'd like to think so. We're a pretty popular group with some long time fans, so I'd like to think a little bump in the road like this wouldn't be enough for them to move on without me. And my most important fans...

[ Her tiniest, most enthusiastic, most unspeakably precious fans, of course. ]

I know they'd wait for me to come back no matter how long it took. I just don't want them to have to wait.

[ She doesn't know how her being brought here worked but she lets herself daydream sometimes that her return will be something absurdly inconvenient – she'll be dropped into her body back home just as she hears the doorbell and this time she'll lock and bolt the door and call the police and nobody will get hurt.

It's such a convenient little fantasy. But she keeps wishing for it, anyway. ]

Maybe you could come along and see one of our concerts someday. I've done my best here but I really shine when I'm on stage with everybody else.

Like you'd really want a Reaper at one of your shows. I'm only good for one thing, you know.

[Too bad there's definitely no horrible sinner in her star-studded life she could ask him to kill for her!]

[ At that, Ai finally turns around to look at him properly, eyebrows raised and a look of perfect, guileless bemusement on her face. ]

Why would I invite you if I didn't want you there? Having friends in the crowd makes performing a show even more fun.

[Brook has been around for over a hundred years. In all that time, he hasn't gotten any better at hiding what he thinks. Or feels.

Scarlet had decided they were friends, too. Even though she had no reason to trust him. Even though she had things she cared about more. He hadn't been in her way, not anymore; she could rely on him to understand what she was going through.]

...Friends. You think?

[Is that all it takes? Undergoing the same awful shit, day after day, week after week, and... not blocking people from what they want just by existing?

But they all are, aren't they? They're all in each other's way, as long as they survive...]

But you want to go home.

[...As long as killing is the only way out.]

[ Ai stares him down and just for a second, her eyes are just a little too bright, too sharp. Like she's trying to dig something out of him before she speaks but even Ai herself doesn't know exactly what it is she's looking for. That just-on-the-verge-of-uncomfortable gaze lingers for a beat, maybe two, before Ai finally pulls out one of the other chairs at the table and settles herself down in it. ]

Sure I do. Just as much as anybody else. But I'm not stupid enough to think I could be the one person who actually gets one over on everyone.

[ Or rather, she's too stupid. There's no way someone as clueless as her could ever pull off a crime like the ones they're expected to pull here. ]

I just have to live until we escape and then figure things out from there. That's all.

[His answering stare isn’t as intense, but it drags on, too, as though waiting for something in her expression to come clear. In the end, he gives her a small nod.]

…Okay. Then I’ll help.

[Help her survive, help her escape. It isn’t really in a Reaper’s wheelhouse to keep someone alive, but at the very least, he can fight. If someone goes after her, they’ll have five feet two inches of demon-infused flesh puppet to deal with.

That’s worth something, right? If he’s here, it might as well be of use to someone.

"Well, it does take a certain kind of person to walk all the way to Hell just because they're facing existential boredom."]

Since we’re friends.

Oh, so I've got a real tough guy on my side now! That's good to know. You can probably tell just by looking but I'm pretty scrawny compared to basically everyone else here...

[ She says that with a thin, self deprecating little grin but then her expression blooms into a brighter, nicer smile - not the full wattage she often clicks into when she needs to make sure she's especially dazzling.

Instead of blinding sunlight, it's the distant twinkle of a tiny, stalwart star. ]

Heehee. Really, though. That does make me feel a little better. I think if we keep an eye out for each other then maybe we'll be able to manage.

[At another time, perhaps Brook would have more defenses against such a smile. Right now, it's precisely its softness, its gentleness--a small light persevering amidst the slavering darkness, a candle lit in the hot, damp, breathing maw of the beast--that brings wetness to his weird, pink eyes with a surprised blink.

'...if we keep an eye out for each other then maybe we'll be able to manage.'

If Ai had been there instead of the maid... if he'd offered to share his birthright with his sister instead of carrying out his father's will on his own, as instructed... would Brook not have died so damned awfully? So alone?

He swallows, looks down at the table, tries to make wiping at his eyes with the back of wrist surreptitious.]

S-sure.

[What Ai could do to help him if he needed it, he has no idea. Like she said, she's just an idol. But it's more than anyone but Scarlet has offered him in over one hundred empty, bloody years.]

And I'll come. To your concert. And blog about it.

[ Ai, politely and conveniently, redirects her gaze elsewhere just long enough enough for him to wipe at his eyes and when she tunes back in, her smile snaps right back to sunny as if there'd never been any hint of emotional vulnerability to comment on in the first place. She's got you, Brook. ]

Heehee. If you're going to blog about it, I'll make sure you get the VIP treatment. Reporters are supposed to get special passes or something when they cover concerts, right?

[ Or so she's heard. ]

I'm sure if I told the Prez about your blog he'd hand one right over.

[He makes a muffled, tiny sound then. A generous reading of it might register it as a soft "heh."

A laugh. Sort of. Maybe.

He lifts his face back up towards her.]

Dunno if word of mouth in another world is good press or not.

[The group's already established that Brook is definitely not from the same Earth as Ai; his inability to name languages or countries beyond "what everybody speaks" and "the north side of the world" proved that as well as anything.]

You could come sing in mine. People would go nuts for you.

[ Ahah. Gotcha. It certainly hasn't solved the actual central issue here, but if she can improve morale even a little bit then that's good enough for Ai. She beams at him a little relentlessly. ]

It couldn't hurt, could it? Maybe after I get back home, Strawberry Productions will decide to take over more than one world. Softening everyone up for our landing is a suuuuuper important part of building pre-release hype, you know.

[ Not that she knows. But it sounds like the sort of thing Miyako would say when they were planning some tour or album release or other, so she lets it roll out of her mouth. ]

What sorts of songs do people like back where you're from? I'll dig into our back catalogue and come up with a fun setlist.

Uhh, I don't know. For a lot of reasons, I haven't gotten out much in... a while.

[Chin in his palm, he taps his fingers against his cheek.]

I think I've heard of... Avril Lavigne? Something like that. But I don't really remember if that was recent or not.

[Claire I cannot tell you how many questions I have about 1) the fact that Avril Lavigne was actually referenced in I'm the Grim Reaper and 2) the fact that she is the only musical reference in I'm the Grim Reaper, not even in-world made-up entities or anything. Claire this webtoon is set I don't know how many years in the future. CLAIRE.]

Edited 2023-09-29 22:21 (UTC)

117th ♫ | aren't i filthy? why won't you kill me?

cw: referenced strangulation

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