Your Own Skin (Black Butler)

Dealing with Druitt

William clutched the edge of his seat as the hearse’s wheels dipped into a deep rut in the road. Despite the smell of the horses, the constant rain, and the mud that occasionally splashed up on his pant legs, William was actually enjoying himself. It wasn’t every day that a shinigami got to travel by hearse alongside the Legendary Reaper. Hearses were rather revered in the shinigami world. They were places that their kind rarely got to see up close, one of the few parts of the human world that was rather inaccessible to them since so few people died there. Undertaker’s hearse was especially elaborate with black curtains along its sides and its six equally dark horses at its lead. People looked up at the vehicle with a strange mixture of respect and fear in their eyes; women prevented children from crossing in front of it, and men would tip their hat to the old Undertaker in his seat. That recognition, that reverence was a complete power trip. It was no wonder the old reaper had chosen this as his profession.

Soon they were outside of the city limits, away from the soot that hung in the air and the muddy streets. The air here felt cleaner despite the constant rain that fell. A few moments later, Undertaker shifted the reigns and the horses turned up a path, the muddy road turned to cobblestone and in the distance he could make out a stately manor atop a hill.

“Is that where the Viscount lives?” he asked.

“Aye, but first you need some fixing.” He pulled the carriage to a complete stop.

William narrowed his eyes, “What do you mean?”

“Fixing.” He said, pointing down to the deathscythe William still clutched in his hand. “You can’t go inside carrying that.”

He grit his teeth, “And why on earth not?”

“This is a manor house, Spears. You can’t just go inside carrying a weapon like that. It isn’t proper!”

“I hope you’re not suggesting I leave it here!” He pulled it aside and away from Undertaker’s reach. “I’ve never left it out of sight when I’m in the human world. Even at the circus I-”

“This isn’t some bloody circus, Spears! This is the manor of a very wealthy man with a long list of enemies.” Undertaker sighed and sat back against his seat, crossing his legs. “Look, I’m not asking you to leave it here or get rid of it. I’m just saying that it can’t look like it does.”

“What do you mean?”

Undertaker smiled in a way that sent a shudder down William’s spine. “I mean I can transfigure it for you,” he held up a satoba and in an instant it had turned into his deathscythe. “Like I do mine.” He shifted it back again and William sat for a moment blinking. Part of him thought he must have imagined it. He had seen it in photographs countless times; hell, he had a photo of the Legendary Reaper and his famed scythe up in his locker in Academy. To see it suddenly flash into reality before his eyes and then disappear into a plain old satoba again was like glimpsing the Golden Fleece. It was almost too much to be real.

It took a moment for William to find his voice again. “You mean, use magic on it.”

“Eh, I don’t like to call it magic, but I suppose that works. If I don’t transfigure it, then it’s got to stay here in the hearse. I don’t want the Viscount to turn us away because of it, but I understand the need to not leave it behind either. We certainly don’t want any human to get hold of it.”

William sighed and looked down at his deathscythe. It was bad enough that he wasn’t in his own body, now he had to give up his only source of protection as well. “What if I need it?”

“Then I can transfigure it back for you. It isn’t difficult.”

“But I’m relying on you. What if there’s a battle? How can I be certain I’ll get it back in time?”