Death is Just Like You

Was there ever a time where there were no faults?

Was there a time where “true love” really existed?

I have my faults just like you do, and the only “true love” I’ve seen humans experience were in stories.

You’re all so stereotypical. And you love to suppress each other.

It saddens me.

These were my thoughts when I walked into the meeting room of the Council.

I seated myself in a chair before the round table. I simply folded my hands and waited.

Unfortunately for me, the first to arrive was the Ankou. Ankou was rather… intimidating. Yes, even the Grimm Reaper gets intimidated.

Ankou always looked the same (for the most part), but he was always different somehow. Every year, he changed somehow, whether it was a new face or a new social atmosphere that had not before existed.

He was skinny, tall, with long white hair, white clothes and a wide-brimmed hat. He carried a crooked scythe. He bothered me a bit. I’m by no means an expert at my job; I’ve only been around since the 15th century. Ankou came with the Celts, and has barely clung to life. The same could be said for the plague hag.

But I try not to think very much about the other personification’s deaths. I have too much to do and too little time to worry.

Ankou seated himself two chairs from my left. He mimicked my actions and sat there, waiting.

The next entrance was made by a shinigami whose name I did not know, and then the Plague Hag, Pesta; she took a swipe at the shinigami with her broom.

Pesta is not called the plague hag for no reason. She is an old woman with a long nose and a huge wart on the end of it, and a blue tongue. And she had lethal aim. She once took a swing at my head, and knocked it clean off.

I had stumbled around looking for it when it was returned to me by a disgruntled Ankou. (It turned out she had been aiming at Ankou the whole time, and had hit him with my skull.)

She came and sat, and the shinigami sat a few chairs away from her.

“…Is this it? Where is everybody?” I looked around, shocked.

“Not here, it seems.” Ankou remarked quietly.

My crow familiar, Os, flew in just then. He dropped a letter on me. I opened it and it read



Grimm, I’m sorry about this, but Kohaku was all we could afford to send. I would have sent Jakku but we both know what happened the last time. I can’t explain in detail the problem we are having right now, but I’ll send a letter later. Kohaku is usually polite but she can be a little rude. Please tell me if she misbehaves or offends anyone.

-Hitomi

I stared at the letter a little longer. Other than clarify that this child was the best the Union had to offer right now, it told me four things.

1.          The Union was in crisis of some sort.

2.          The shinigami was female.

3.          Her name was Kohaku.

4.          I was going to have to have Caro write down the proceeding of the meeting after all.

I put my fingers to my temples. I didn’t like to have to make Caro do this, with all he already did for me.  I’ll explain what I mean by that so as not to confuse you. Caro is my housekeeper. I can tell what you’re thinking; “Why does the Grimm Reaper need a housekeeper?”

Well, I’ll tell you why. When it comes to my work, I couldn’t be more organized. I have so much to do and not enough time to do it. But my personal life? There wasn’t much of one to begin with, I’ll admit, but I’m a very disorganized person. I’ve always got too much to do. My house is a mess. Books everywhere, cloak thrown over a chair, a scythe stuck in the wall, I left my computer on by accident, my phone is ringing, the dust has settled in a thick blanket, my mailbox is full to the brim… you get the point.

Thankfully, I have Caro to handle that. He was a Latin professor in America and we met when he was on the brink of death. I took him home with me and he returns the favor by keeping my house clean. I really appreciate it, and I’ve actually taken a liking to Caro.