A Girl Reaper? *A Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler Fanfiction*

Prologue: The Fateful Encounter

Darcy walked down the cobblestone streets of London, England. It was the year 1888 and the sky was overcast with dark rain clouds.

It was early October and the cold autumn air nipped at her skin, causing her to shudder. She had a basket of groceries in her left hand, her Aunt Victoria and Uncle Klaus had sent her out earlier that evening to go and retrieve ingredients for that night's supper, which Darcy already knew she would be tasked with preparing.

'Its awfully cold for only being October.... It's going to be a harsh winter.' She thought, swinging her basket carelessly.

"Darcy Lowell!" A sharp, high pitched voice cut into Darcy's thoughts.

Darcy stopped abruptly and turned her head to see Ms. Desmond, sitting on the front porch of her house.

"Darcy Lowell! Why are you parading around in such attire, are you trying to have your parents roll over in their grave? You should be in a dress and corset, young lady!" The elderly woman howled.

Ms. Desmond was known to be one of the meanest and most bitter women in all of London. Her thin grey hair was pulled back in a tight frizzy bun and she always wore large dresses with bows and ruffles on them, either wearing satin or lace gloves and some type of sun hat. Ms. Desmond had a heavily powdered face, red cheeks, and plump red lips. She was said to be quite beautiful in her youth. Ms. Desmond would spend most of her days sitting on her rocking chair on her front porch, sipping a cup of tea and critiquing and criticizing every soul who walked her way, especially Darcy.

Darcy faced Ms. Desmond fully and held the basket in both of her hands. She smiled warmly. "Good evening, Ms. Desmond! There's a chance of rain later on so perhaps you should head inside, we wouldn't want you to get sick!" She said.

Ms. Desmond waved the pink haired teen away with her hand. "Don't worry about me, young lady! And don't avoid my question! Young women like yourself should be wearing silks and lace, not cotton!" She exclaimed.

Darcy shrugged. "Sorry Ma'am. I'd wear them if I owned them, but I'm afraid cotton is the best I can do right now." Darcy apologized.

Although Ms. Desmond was a negative and mean lady, Darcy knew she couldn't get upset with her. Ms. Desmond was always there to lend a hand to Darcy if she needed it and Darcy knew she was just bitter from all her years of witnessing war and suffering. Plus, she was a whole lot more nice than her Aunt Victoria and Uncle Klaus.

Big Ben chimed in the distance, signaling it was now six o'clock.

Darcy's head perked up and her eyes widened. "Oh! Pardon me, Ms. Desmond, but I must get going!" She exclaimed, already running down the street and waving goodbye.

She heard Ms. Desmond's frail yet shrill voice call out to her. "Your hair better be in a tight bun and not a sloppy pony tail the next time I see you, Ms. Lowell! And clip back those bangs of yours!" Her voice echoed throughout the hustle and bustle of the streets and shops of London.

Darcy greeted passing by coachmen and town folk before stopping in front of a large Victorian home, the house she always dreaded going to.

She hiked up the wooden steps and took a deep breath before opening the red painted wood door and entering.

"I'm home." She called out.

She received no response.

'Great... I'm in for it.' She thought.

Darcy's parents had passed when she was only a year old. Her aunt and uncle refused to ever talk about them and wouldn't even show Darcy a picture of the two. All Darcy knew were their names; Alice and Mark Lowell. And after her parent's tragic death, she was placed in the unloving and unforgiving care of her Aunt Victoria and Uncle Klaus.