The mini-quarters took one large building in the center of Stockholm, as he'd been informed of the name of this human settlement, and were home to 23 reapers. The information imparted to him also included the ranks of reapers, last decade's most notable accomplishments, and a description of their long-standing tradition to roam these parts of Europe. Kuolema was pretty sure he saw that word written on the map of Earth.

The reaper in charge was Anders, who rectified Kuolema after using the wrong name to address him in a painfully long explanation of hereditary names. And the reason why Kuolema needed to be informed of three generations of reapers taking the holy name of Anders was beyond his comprehension.

Anders only paused in his quest to annoy Kuolema to death with his exhaustive monologues when he adjusted the tie holding his long, blond hair in a sleek, high ponytail. After the third adjustment, Kuolema quit counting.

"...I used the female body for a while, but after being offered the opportunity to take over as the head commander along with the name, I just had to take the most prominent artificial body we had in reserve."

Why did Anders have to impart his whole life story to him? Did it even matter that body and the name match?

This guy reminded him of...

Of who? It was just a fleeting thought, escaping his mind promptly after being formed, and Kuolema couldn't bring it back for the life of him. What was going on? He stared hard at the tall reaper still trying to talk Kuolema's ear off. Who did this idiot remind him of? And why had Kuolema felt like he lost all air for a moment there? And why, just why had he thought that the color of the hair was not matching? What did it not match?

Kuolema shook his head as he internally sighed. It was time to stop this blattering fool so he growled low. It worked, though he remembered Saru's habitual adaptation to this type of non-verbal command and realized he would actually need to start punishing his underlings for being infuriating and trying his misplaced patience.

A pixie-like female reaper approached them holding a tray with food and drinks. "Master, would you care for some refreshments? I understand you had a tiring trip so I prepared some."

"Yes, indeed," Anders insisted. "Please, help yourself."

Kuolema shrugged and took the first thing from the tray just to shut them up. He then turned to stare at the large screen taking most of the sheer white wall to observe the live dead map. The signal had appeared and disappeared roughly seven times, enough to determine that he was in the right place. Sadly, it had stopped glowing some minutes ago leaving them all in the dark where the final destination would be.

Anders had assured him that most of the flights arrived here.

Which wasn't as reassuring as Anders would like to think considering Kuolema's recent unlucky streak.

As he saw Anders opening his big mouth again, Kuolema declared, "I still have the centennial report to write. I'll stay near."

And he went, stuffing whatever food he'd grabbed in his mouth, not even tasting it.

He hated waiting.

-.. . .- - ....

The air was fresh, fresher than at Kuolema's last location and the sun was warm on his skin. It was warm, but not overly so. He wasn't the only one in a coat as far as he could see.

Taking a stroll through the streets while studying his path not to get lost, he noticed that the buildings were far more colorful than in Milan. He passed a park finned with trees and at its furthermost end found a seating place.

A wooden bench under the shade of a tree looked inviting so he sat down on its far right. He looked at humans, observing them. But this time for real. Up until now, he was chasing a shadow, always hurrying and plotting and planning, not taking enough time to just stop and breathe. He didn't need to breathe, really. But it was relaxing to use these artificial parts of the body. He settled against the black-painted wood and observed.

So many rushed through the streets. The sound of cars was loud to his ears but he adapted fast. Sometimes there was an annoying new sound coming from those cars but it never lasted long. Kuolema realized he knew near to nothing about humans. He should've been aware he didn't know but lying to himself was apparently his new favorite thing. He sighed as he listened to a conversation occurring a dozen meters or so on his right.

His power levels were slowly rising and now he was at forty percent or so. Not ideal but it would do. If he needed he would cast off this body and just fight in his true form. It would be a ghastly sight for humans, for sure, and he couldn't do it in a heavily populated place without killing many, but he as a Master Death could get away with it.

If push came to shove he would grab the culprit and teleport where he didn't feel any life signatures. Then he would crush them.

"Is this part taken?"

Kuolema looked up to his left side where a dark-haired man stood, pointing at the other side of the bench.

"No," Kuolema replied. "Have at it."

The man smiled, pulled on that monstrosity of a blue-green mask that was bunched under his chin to get it over the lower half of his face, and sat down. He brought a brief bag to his lap, and then started rummaging through it. Kuolema went back to paying attention to happenings around him.

This place was filled with humans, though they somehow seemed subdued, like something heavy sat on their shoulders, like a dark shadow following them.

"Yes!"

The exclamation made Kuolema glance at the man in question just to see the guy looking at the screen of his smartphone gadget, almost jumping in his seat in excitement. Should he try to talk to the human?

"Ah, sorry," the man apologized when he noticed Kuolema staring. "My order was finally approved for shipping. It got me happy."

Kuolema nodded as if he knew what the man was talking about. "Something long-awaited?" It was a casual enough question, right?"

The man sighed. "This whole lockdown stuff got many orders delayed. And I really wanted this figure." Kuolema could see the creasing around the corners of his bright eyes and assumed he was smiling under the mask. "It's a special edition Luffy figure. See."

He pushed the gadget under Kuolema's nose. Kuolema saw a picture of what seemed to be a small, colored statue of a young male human in a red shirt and blue shorts with a yellow straw hat on top of his head. But the confusing and at the same time intriguing things were blackened arms of the youth. Kuolema was sure humans didn't have pitch black on their hands if those weren't covered by some material.

"Um, it seems interesting," Kuolema cleverly said. "What's with the arms."

The man vibrated in excitement. "Ah, in this story characters have special powers."

"Oh, okay."

"You should try it, it's interesting." The man even sounded like concentrated happiness. Kuolema didn't know that was possible but weirder things happened.

"Oh, would you look at the time," the man suddenly said, then turned to look at Kuolema. The bright ochre of the man's eyes seemed like molten magic. "It was nice talking to you."

Kuolema just murmured what he'd heard humans say as the man stood up. "Likewise."

"The anime is called One Piece if you ever want to try and I wholeheartedly recommend," the man told him, lowering the mask so Kuolema could see a blinding smile happily sitting on his face. "Goodbye," was the last he said before he marched over the crosswalk in the direction of the north.

It was after the man had disappeared in the crowd that the realization hit Kuolema over his head so hard he could've planted six feet into the soil.

The goodbye. That had been said in the ancient language of the Underworld. The automatic translator was a genius thing to have when walking among humans, but in this instance, it was more of an inconvenience than help. For fucks sake. Kuolema wanted to kick himself. That must have been his blasted culprit.

His stupefied expression was soon replaced by a vicious snarl and he jumped up.

As he rose up to his full height, the alarm blared in his ear, making him swear loudly. Because he just knew what a live-dead map would show. He almost dreaded looking at it.

And he was right. Once he managed to magnify the map, he realized that the signal was not far away, just a few streets over, and drifting away from his position.

He needed to find that guy!

-.. . .- - ....

Filippo laughed all the way to the airport that would take him to his destination, though sometimes he would do it internally so he wouldn't make humans regard him as crazy. This had been perfect.

He had planned on approaching Kuolema soon. But when a chance presented itself on a silver platter, he grabbed it with both hands, leaving crumbs for the other to follow him.

Kuolema really needed to cheer up and what better way to do it than Filippo helping him in that endeavor. Really, that fool should thank him for all the things he had done for him. Even put him on a fucking throne.

Now it was time for the next phase of the plan. One that involved a bit more interaction. 

A cough brought him out from his musings and his smile turned bitter. Not really his mistake this time, but he was mad. Mad at the world. Mad at the fates. Mad at himself for not being able to fix this body as he should have been able to.

The time was flying at a fast pace, nearing an end in this chapter of life. 

A/N: with this chapter, I have just over 8k words. and of those 8, around 3 k has been written today or the last day of the deadline lmao 

Hopefully, I'll have more time to write the rest of the story and not have work disturb my writing time XD

p.s. LordSteflord says hi