Chapter Text
The breeze blew softly; enough to coax a soft rustling in the leaves of trees and pull his satin cape with its flow. The sun had begun its descent under the hills in the distance, and the sky boasted bright hues of orange and red. It was a quiet evening, and Soraru was happy he chose to visit the graveyard today out of the other days.
Around a week since the death of a trusted general of his, a petty squabble with a trespassing demon. It must have been a bit of a painful realisation for such an intelligent general that no matter the size of the sword you unsheathe, long-distance dark magic usually wins. It was a slip up that cost him his life, and possibly some of the kingdom’s power. It was an upsetting misfortune, but the least he could do to honour him was give him a visit.
His resting place lay near the back of the graveyard. The gravestone itself was larger than most of the others and had roses intricately carved into it, surrounding his name written in cursive. Sitting in front of it was a wilted bouquet of browning gladiolus, it’s strong floral scent nearly too sickly and sweet.
Soraru kneeled down in front of the grave, letting his eyes flutter shut. Although was never too great with words, the desire to express his gratitude overcame the fear of embarrassing himself. “Thank you,” he whispered softly.
“…For what?”
His eyes snapped open to see the owner of such a silvery voice. It wasn’t the general. Looking up, he met eyes with a man cloaked in long, dark robes sitting on the cobblestone wall. Both sleeves slipped off of his porcelain shoulders, and underneath those sleeves, his hands balanced a tall, menacing scythe in his lap. His eyes were a blood red, his hair as white as snow, and the large wings on his back a raven black. It took Soraru a bit to notice the enigmatic smile on his face, and that it was directed to him.
Soraru looked at him wide-eyed. “…Demon,” he muttered, hand inching toward the handle of his sword.
“Ah! I’m here legally I promise!” the demon squeaked, “I’m the overworld’s grim reaper. The scythe says a bit right?”
Soraru hesitated. He was astonished that a person with such a bubbly response held the mantel of the infamous Grim Reaper. He was well known across the country, but wasn’t known for having too much of a public appearance. In fact, this was Soraru’s first time even seeing him, even as the king.
He looked him up and down, unsure what to do. He didn’t feel particularly in danger. The only thing he hoped for was none of his strongly anti-demon castle members seeing him.
“What are you doing here?” Soraru asked, mustering up the most authoritative voice he could.
“Well, the soul you’re paying respects to—I forgot to pick him up when I was passing through last week.” He recoils a little under Soraru’s indifferent gaze, “I seriously don’t know how I forgot him! Really!”
He laughs a little at the end, a little squeaky, a little unlike the image of a grim reaper Soraru had imagined.
“You’re the king, right?” the reaper asks, “Soraru?”
Soraru nodded, “That’s right.”
“Ah, I feel guilty. I should’ve bowed when I greeted you, but I can’t really do that properly sitting down.”
He laughs again, lighter than the last.
Soraru stared at him thoughtfully, the reaper noticing and shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. “…Something wrong?” the winged boy asked.
“No, nothing really.” he replied “I was wondering, do you have a name? Of your own.”
“Mafumafu. Call me that, please.”
‘What a weirdly soft name for such an infamous demon,’ Soraru thought. Nothing seemed to match up with him, a legendary urban legend that roamed the overworld claiming souls, and yet also apologised for not greeting him properly and laughed about it. He wondered how he even did his job. The thought quickly reminded him of what he was here to do, and Soraru redirected his focus towards his grave.
“You’re going to take him away, right?”
Mafu hummed his confirmation, “You wanna watch?”
Soraru nodded, albeit a little hesitant. “Sure.”
Shifting to a squat, Mafu held his scythe in hand, the other outstretched to the ground in front of the grave. His eyes, growing dark, were drawn to the grass, the bubbly features of his face vanishing in the bitter cold aura around him.
He abruptly jerked his hand up, and from the grave, a ball of light was thrown up to the sky. Swiftly swinging his scythe, he pulled it in toward him and grappled onto it. The light that shone from his grip was just as brilliant as it was fleeting, as seconds later he unclenched his hand, only for it to be completely empty.
Soraru stared in shock. He wasn’t really sure what to expect. He didn’t even think it would happen in the time span of a snap.
It began to click into place a little more. Maybe it was the cold, dead look in his eyes or the quick and precise movements of his magic and his scythe that gave it away. One thing was for sure, he really was the grim reaper.
“Oh, was it scary?”
Soraru blinked. All of Mafu’s devilish sadism faded in seconds, his vicious gaze returning to that of a puppy’s. “Eh-- No… It just took me by surprise, is all.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Mafu asked, cocking his head to the side.
“No,” said Soraru, “It just means I learned something new about you.”
With that, the reaper’s eyes widened, if only incrementally, before his lips stretched into a grin. “You’re awfully kind to demons for a king.”
“Were you expecting me to be rude?”
“Maybe a little,” he muttered with a guilty smile, “but you’re really not! So, I think I’ll visit the palace more. I’d like to get to learn about you as well, since you’re such a weird king.”
Soraru found himself rolling his eyes, to which Mafu laughed at. Soraru thought it was pretty bold of him to call him weird.
The last golden rays of the sun vanished from the sky, and a chill ran up Soraru’s spine as the warmth faded.
“Is it cold? You should probably go inside if that’s the case,” Mafu stated.
“I should, shouldn’t I?”
Truthfully, Soraru didn’t want to return just yet, but being alone at night was risky for someone in his position. He shouldn’t have even left the palace without a guard.
“If you’d like to visit next week for tea, you’re more than welcome to. I can have the castle members arrange it,” proposed Soraru.
He stuck out a hand for a handshake, Mafu hesitating before fully and enthusiastically reciprocating. “I’ll look forward to it," he chirped.
Mafu stood up on the wall, and with a smile, he began to fade away. Soraru curiously stuck a hand up to where he sat. No invisible person sat there, just his absence.
The reds in the sky began to be washed over by purple and it grew colder with every passing minute. Soraru knew it was about time to leave. But as he left, he couldn’t help but feel a little amused.
He huffed a weak laugh, “What a weird encounter.”