#i hate that he died so horribly and so paingully

[spytefull]

I was the Reaper that was never needed.

For millennia, I lay dormant, tattered black cloak clinging like cobwebs to my sallow form, skin like leather sewn to bone.

I should never have been needed, but-

A brilliant blue light burst forth in the world, and my eyes snapped open in kind.

-humans truly are foolish creatures.

And yet, they are oh so stubborn.

Only two men were marked that fateful day. Two innocent men, who gave their all to their work. Two men who were let down by their leaders.

The one that was not mine would have the specter of death looming over him for months. His organs would eventually fail him, but it was reasonable that he would fight.

The fight that mine put up, however… the sheer force of will that kept his heart beating, that kept that spark of life burning within him… that sheer, indomitable human spirit that I could do nothing but watch… it was an inspiration.

Neither my charge nor his family gave up. The doctors and nurses and all of the staff, not one of them surrendered to despair. They matched his strength with their own, despite everything. Despite his chromosomes themselves shattering beyond recognition. Despite his body's inability to generate replacements for every part of him that was slowly dying. Despite his body destroying every single donation of cells and blood. Despite his lungs being little more than a machine. Despite his heart continuously failing. Despite his body being so fragile that a single, small cut could end his fight.

Despite

EVERYTHING

he

fought

and

fought

and

fought

and

fought

until

he could fight no longer.

And as his wife, for the first time during those long, painful days of fighting finally allowed the tears to fall freely, as she allowed heaving sobs to fill the silence that was once occupied by too many machines and people, I greeted Hisashi Ouchi with all the respect I could offer. With not enough respect for a man like him. With everything I had, and my withered soul longing to give him more.

And I took his hand.

And no-one in that hospital questioned how an 83 extra paper cranes appeared in a neat little row the very next day.

Each type of death has a unique type of Reaper. The Reapers of Drowning collects the souls of the drowned. The Reapers of Old Age collects those that have come to their natural end. Write a story about a Reaper for an unusual death finally having a soul to collect.