Don't hate me
Who: Starting with Izumi and Grell, but open to any shinigami
What: Following the death of a student comes the hardest part of Izumi's job. However, a certain redhead decides that he wants the honors.
When: January 1st; 12:01 am
Where: Outside the Humanities Building
Rating: PG to start...but may escalate to PG-13
The Death List never lies. December 27th, the name Axel appeared on those destined to die. Subsequently, December 28th, the name moved to those who were then dead. The writing was as bright as day, but something was off about it. The black ink instantly reddened, meaning something was off. Some power was overriding the ruling on the list. Not a complete override, the name was still there, meaning Axel was alive and dead at the same time. It wouldn't last long, the ink darkened each passing day.
Midnight, New Year's Day, the ink was completely black once more. Izumi was no fool, this could only mean one thing.
And so there he was, the blond shinigami standing over the corpse of the recognizable redhead. The snarky, know-it-all smile wasn't there, replaced by a solemn grief. A red scythe rested against his shoulder, the first time Izumi was forced to use it since arriving here.
"I'm sorry." This...was the hardest part of this job.
What: Following the death of a student comes the hardest part of Izumi's job. However, a certain redhead decides that he wants the honors.
When: January 1st; 12:01 am
Where: Outside the Humanities Building
Rating: PG to start...but may escalate to PG-13
The Death List never lies. December 27th, the name Axel appeared on those destined to die. Subsequently, December 28th, the name moved to those who were then dead. The writing was as bright as day, but something was off about it. The black ink instantly reddened, meaning something was off. Some power was overriding the ruling on the list. Not a complete override, the name was still there, meaning Axel was alive and dead at the same time. It wouldn't last long, the ink darkened each passing day.
Midnight, New Year's Day, the ink was completely black once more. Izumi was no fool, this could only mean one thing.
And so there he was, the blond shinigami standing over the corpse of the recognizable redhead. The snarky, know-it-all smile wasn't there, replaced by a solemn grief. A red scythe rested against his shoulder, the first time Izumi was forced to use it since arriving here.
"I'm sorry." This...was the hardest part of this job.