Earl Grey Tea | Levi Ackerman

Prologue

Who in Their Right Mind Would Name Their Child Reaper?

If you're asking that question, trust me, you're not the first. The answer? My alt-goth, "pick me" parents. They wanted to be edgy, unique—quirky, even. They thought giving me an unusual name would make me stand out in some cool, rebellious way. And they weren't wrong. I stood out, all right. But not in the way they probably intended.

From the moment I started school, my name became a target on my back. Kids would snicker behind my back, whispering about how I had a "serial killer name." Teachers hesitated when calling attendance, as if unsure they were reading it right. But the worst part? The adults.

Other parents weren't just weirded out by my name—they outright mocked it. They'd make passive-aggressive comments like, "What kind of name is that?" or "Well, that explains a lot." Some even called me a freak, as if my name alone made me some kind of social outcast. And then there were the religious types—people who saw my name and immediately decided I was evil. A spawn of Satan. A demon child.

Did it hurt? Of course, it did. Imagine growing up, going through every stage of school—kindergarten, elementary, middle, high school—constantly being called unnatural, a witch, a monster. It wears on you. It makes you question if maybe, just maybe, they're right. That maybe there's something wrong with you.

But over time, I learned to push past it. Words still sting, but I don't let them control me anymore. I can't afford to.

The truth about me is, I might have been able to ignore the bullying if that were the only thing that made me different. But it's not.

Because I'm not normal. Not entirely human.

I'm what people call a Neko. No, not the "cute anime girl with cat ears" kind you see in cosplay. I mean literal cat ears and a tail—flesh, fur, and all. This wasn't something I was born with, though. My parents, the same ones who cursed me with the name Reaper, also sold me.

Sold me.

To scientists.

I don't remember much about what they did to me—I was too young to process it all. But what I do know is that I wasn't the same afterward. I left that lab with black feline ears perched atop my head and a long, sleek tail that twitched with every shift of my emotions. I became something else, something that shouldn't exist outside of fiction.

And now? I try to live my life as normally as possible.

Blending in or even trying to in college life is tricky when you have features you're not supposed to have. But I've learned how to adapt.

I never leave my dorm without a hat—beanies, hoodies, and caps are my lifeline. My tail? That's easier to deal with. Since I can move it at will, I usually wrap it around my leg and tuck it into my sweatpants. Sitting isn't much of a problem; I just shift my weight to the side without my tail wrapped around it.

Despite all this, I still get paranoid sometimes. A gust of wind could knock my hat off. Someone could tug at my hoodie. A slip-up, and I'd be exposed.

I do have one advantage, though. If I focus hard enough—if I pour every ounce of my concentration into it—I can hide my cat features. My ears and tail disappear, and I look just like everyone else. But it's not easy. Keeping up the illusion drains me fast, and if I lose focus for even a second, the disguise drops. It's risky, but it's sometimes necessary.

As of right now, I'm 20 years old now, in my third year of college, studying psychology. It's ironic, really—learning how the human mind works when I'm not exactly fully human myself. But I like it. I'm good at it.

Physically, I haven't changed much since I was a kid. Black hair, matching black ears and tail, and piercing green eyes that almost glow in the dark. I'm short—only 5'4" (about 165 cm)—and I haven't grown a single inch since I was twelve. It's frustrating sometimes. I have to use step stools to reach top shelves, and people tend to underestimate me because of my height. But I've learned to live with it. My weight sits at about 120 lbs., and I've never really been self-conscious about it. I've got curves in the right places, but not enough to attract attention. I rarely speak to people. I'd like to think I'm a nonchalant person.

But at the end of the day, I'm just... me.

A girl named Reaper, trying to navigate a world that never made space for people like me.

And I don't plan on stopping anytime soon.

~~~~~~~~~

789 words

I'm very excited to start this story, I've been planning and trying to since May of 2022. I finally finished my schooling and have extra downtime, so I'll be trying to write this! Please tune in and leave some comments for me with questions or hypothesis' :)

Both pictures from above are from picrew, portraying my oc Reaper White.

Here's the link to the one I used:

https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/2308695/complete?cd=CnWFJqMy0G#google_vignette

- Rina