The Secret Name--Kuroshitsuji. Chpt 3.

The Voice of the Wind by smallsmiles/smilingcrescent
(Ciel PoV)

***
The situation with Sebastian must be resolved. I run the words over in my head, and remnant anxiety threatens to spill out from behind tightly pressed lips. That day has come and gone, but the time limit lays heavily on my thoughts. It's uncomfortable to say the least.

I pull on some clothes and am shrugging on a light jacket to head outside when the doorbell sounds. I'm not expecting anyone—I rarely get company, and don't seek it out.

A quick look into the peephole reveals Mei-Rin waving at me, shouting "Hey Ciel! Lemme in." She grins at me.

I open the door reluctantly, and Mei-Rin bounds in.

"Thought I'd come by and help with your washing up, or the laundry." And just like that, she walks over to the kitchen sink looking for dishes. But of course Sebastian never leaves dishes lying around, so she pokes around a bit more, rattling pots and pans that have already been put away.

"Wait a minute, Mei-Rin, I don't need any help cleaning."

"Sure you do. Any boy your age could see some help! And I heard from Lau that Mr. Sebastian is out today." Something clatters to the ground. A dish, probably, by the breaking and scattering noise. "Whoops." Mei-Rin exclaims. "Where's the dust pan?"

Mei-Rin has always been like that when around me— flustered and well meaning, and extremely klutzy. Broken dishes in exchange for die-hard loyalty and assassin skills, though. A fair trade, but not the person I'd pick for a housekeeper.

"You're not a maid." I remind her. "And I can manage on my own for a few hours without Sebastian."

"Oh please," she grins, all smiles and glasses. "You'd be lost without him. I've seen how devoted you two are." Broken pieces (or those she saw, anyway) in the bin, she walks right into my room.

"Aha, see, it is messy!" She holds up my dirty night shirt as evidence.

Heat rushes to my cheeks. I snatch at the clothes thoughtlessly left on the floor and eye the things I left lying around. "Mei-Rin, it's not that bad. Get out of my room—"

Mei-Rin ignores the open sock drawer, the water tumbler and any normal clutter and instead goes to the one thing I'd completely forgotten about—the bent corner of a magazine barely sticking out of a stack of files.

Considering her eye-sight, I suppose it makes sense. It was farthest from the shirt, after all.

"Your files are all cluttered," she lifts a few folders and begins to tap them on the desk to straighten the edges. The magazine slides out, along with some photographs—things that should be paper-clipped in the files.

Mei-Rin picks up the magazine and examines it for three long seconds. Her face and neck turn a bright pink, and she drops the magazine. "Ahaha, that's not a file. Don't teenaged boys usually hide these under mattresses or on their computers?"

"It was for work," I protest, blushing intensely now, I pick up the photos and magazine.

Mei-Rin laughs and picks up my socks and night shirt. "I'll just do the laundry."

"No, really, I don't need help."

"Just because I found your porn doesn't mean you get to kick me out, Ciel," She bustles over to my washing machine, and dumps the clothes in. "I'll get these all nice and cleaned up."

"That's not enough to do a full load," I try, but she's already starting the water and adding soap.

---

One tiring hour later, I'm can finally get out of my flat. I've gone and wandered down a familiar path, and the leaves are just beginning to green. It's a soft reminder of spring to come, and the whole route looks almost like it came out of a painting. So I walk, looking down at the cobble stones, seeking out pictures on the ground. I barely notice as a cool breeze blows down the path.

"One year…" I mumble, kicking a stray rock. I can't help but sigh.

Some of the leaves blow lightly, and I look upward on a whim. The sky's gone somewhere between teal and cerulean, like it might rain any moment.

Doing so brings on a wave of dizziness, weighing me down and distracting me. I lean against a wall to force my thoughts to slow. It's still early in the day, so very few people I know are actually awake.

There's another breeze that takes my breath away. The soft touch of the wind. I smile, and a memory floats up. I think of the way my father used to sit us in the courtyard of whatever building he was investigating, and we'd watch people pass by, chatting quietly about their lives.

"That one's a banker," he'd say smugly. "And he's started something a little fishy…look how he's eying the shadows. Touching the left pocket again and again."

I'd look the person up and down, hoping to find Sherlock-Holmes-like clues to tell me whether my Dad had been right or wrong.

"And that one there? Between the two men. She's in a relationship with the man on the right. Her fingers brushed his arm that way—did you see?"

My dad had been a fast-thinking, clever man always looking to show someone up. His sharp tongue, my mother said, is what got him into half their trouble. Thinking back on it, I suppose most of his 'friends' were really acquaintances, or business partners, or people who owed him something.

It's strange to think of him like that.

"Boy."

I blink. The call is surprisingly familiar. I'm sure I've heard it before, and recently. I stop in mid step. "Who is it?" I ask sharply, weariness plucking my patience away.

The only reply is a burst of whimsical, light laughter.

I scowl. "My name isn't boy,," I shout into the bushes, so full of indignation it makes my lungs burn.

The air is still, and for a moment, I hear nothing. A moment passes. "What is it, then?"

I scoff. "You don't know me." It's a quiet testament to the surprise I feel, saying something so obvious.

A stirring of leaves makes me spin around, but still I can't place the voice. "I do, Ciel Phantomhive."

With a sickly breath, I stop searching. "Lots of people know my name." I counter. "That doesn't mean you know me." I'm trying for 'haughty,' but the best I can pull off is tense.

"You are in trouble." The voice reminds me. "Only a year left on your life." It's a pleasant, warm tuft of air on my cheek, and the smell of cherry and green leaves assails me.

I start coughing. "I don't know what you're talking about." I choke out.

"Sebastian Michaelis," the voice croons, "is what you call him, isn't it?"

My heart pounding, I turn about slowly. Looking and listening for a voice that seems to fall from the sky. It's indistinguishable as young or old, and distance is proving a difficulty to pinpoint.

Without a reply to counter, the voice continues. "Your contract is up in less than a year…"

I swallow. "Yes," I admit. Who could know that, though? Precious few people have figured out what Sebastian is, and even fewer know about the…contract. No one, to my count.

Fluting as a bird on wing, it continues. "You don't want to die."

I stand rooted to the spot. But then I see it—a face in the air, white-ish and blue-ish in places, and fading to green where leaves and vegetation are behind it. "I…" It's like a fairy from the tales my aunt told…I'm struck silent with surprise.

"Don't you want to ask?"

I try and offer a confident smirk, or at least a careless smile. But my expression is frozen. "Ask what?"

The wind seems to laugh again, and I hear it as the ruffling of silk and leaves. "How to keep from dying." The face on the wind grins.

"Tell me!" I demand sharply. I take a few paces forward, hoping to scare the thing into revealing a little more, a little quicker. There's no telling where Sebastian is right now; he could interrupt any moment. Panic and fear mix with anticipation, and I practically fall forward.

"I can't help you," it's behind me now, clear as a bell. The little sprite has disappeared from where I can see it, and the rush I got from thinking I might live a little longer drops out of me.

"Tell me," I cry, my voice between pleading and demanding. My face can't seem to decide what expression to make, and I can feel my lips twitch with the strain of it. I close my eyes. "Tell me anything."

The voice of the wind is light and easy. "It's all in the name, Ciel Phantomhive." As if it's ever that simple.

I shake my head. "I don't understand."

The view of the flowers and the breeze on the wind. I can feel tension between my shoulders, and sweat in my eyes, stinging like pins rubbing sensitive tissue.

I close my eyes again imagining what my clever father might have said. Or what my charming and unpredictable mother might have done. "Surely the wind hears many things." I mumble, wishing for a warm hand to grab at, or an eye to catch. What could I offer the wind though? And what threat could possibly work?

Surprisingly, the face appears again, and it seems this time like that of a young girl, loose curling hair and rounded cheek to accent a smile like a wedge of the moon. "I do." she says, impish and teasing as any girl. "But what would you give me?"

I shrug, taken aback. "What do you want?"

She shakes her head. "Something only you can give me." she waits on tiptoes fashioned of swirling leaves and twigs.

I look down at her, wondering what would flatter. Hands that cannot hold a gift and sweet mouth that cannot taste. I consider a moment, and say, "Someone to talk to." I at last give a winning smile, and she grins back at me.

"With tea parties and black eye patch rabbits?" she presses. "And ends to stories that rude people never finish?" Her curiosity is a living thing, and it bounces in her eyes. She's really quite...infatuated, I think, with the idea of a companion. I won that play, then.

I nod tightly. "Yes. Now please." I try not to beg and not to shout. "Just—"

"His name," she repeats. Her smile is bright as a new penny. But my confusion and open despair must be written on my face. "His name. Not what you call him. Not what you could call a dog, and not what you drug up from a heart's memory. His true name."

I stand stock still. The implication is astounding-- that I could unlock his secret and break his hold with a name. It's unthinkable.

Sebastian as another person…it's somehow unsettling. Thinking of him as someone else. In someone else's employ…

I blink and nod. "Get his real name." I sigh.

The girl smiles at me, like she spied a tasty treat. "He won't give it easily," she warns. "And the result itself may only extend your term, not solve it." Her tone is a strange mix of unconcern and mischief, as though she was teaching me to cheat in a child's game. Glad to show me her cleverness, but uncaring if I win or lose. "Good luck to you." She whispers.

I don't know what to make of her.

And then she is gone.

I turn to the sky, touching my right eye. The day seems darker without her, but I'm not done. Looking for the right words, I let my gaze wander.

So much of the world is missing with only one eye showing. So much hidden.

Tomorrow, I think, I shall have to look with both eyes.

I smile to myself.

Tomorrow.

---

tbc…

So! What'd you think???
Mei-Rin is funny, and the wind girl (care to guess her name?) showed up too. ♥