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Though the oldest, Kenma could hardly say he was in charge. Luckily, the squad captain Daichi Sawamura was kind enough to grant his wishes and gave him the role of collecting the souls of anything...not human. The business of collecting the souls of animals had always been less competitive than the one for humans, and there was always an abundance. Like the cat that had fallen in the river and drowned.
Thus, he’s surprised to find someone already sitting there, playing with the soul as though it were still alive with the same goofy grin he remembers from all those years ago. Lev. The name sits on Kenma’s lips, but he doesn’t dare to let it slip out. Lev’s uniform is different, soft shades of violet against a vibrant, silver lining, and a scythe of the same palette lies by his side. He’s a reaper; a rival. And based on previous experiences, Kenma can be almost completely certain that Lev won’t remember him.
A part of him still hopes he will.
Kenma keeps his distance, and waits until Lev has departed with the soul before stepping forward onto the riverbed. The tabby had been his main objective, but the river houses the souls of many other creatures waiting for their chance for rebirth. Hoping that he's gathered enough to compensate for his loss, he heads back and makes a note to ask Daichi not to be sent back, at least for a while.
In his time as an angel, Kenma has come to notice many things. The first is that not everything is painted in black and white. Some angels are cruel, just as some demons are kind. Meanwhile, the reapers are just…there. A third party meant to keep the peace but one that rarely ever does.
And they can kill each other.
It rarely happens. Mostly because it’s hard to find those that enjoy conflict, but sometimes things go sour.
He still doesn’t know what happens when they die.
It’s a reaction. Before Kenma can think, he draws his sword and poises for battle. Lev tenses as well, taking up his scythe as though it were a shield rather than a weapon. Neither of them are willing to strike first.
“Have we...met?” Lev asks hesitantly, and Kenma frowns.
“No,” he responds, keeping his voice even, “we haven’t.” The truth won’t change anything, and it certainly wouldn’t help diffuse the situation. In this sort of situation, Kenma figures it would be more convenient to lie. “I guess you can call me Kenma.”
“Lev.” He smiles and extends his hand. Kenma takes it without hesitation, and Lev gives it a single, powerful shake. “I don’t intend on fighting you, so I hope we can get along from now on.”
In the end, they turn it into a game, of all things. If they ever happen to meet at the same job, they play rock-paper-scissors. The winner is almost always Kenma.