Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nightly watches tend to feel easier on you thanks to your insomnia. Not once in your life, aside from your very early childhood, have you had the chance to rest assured in your sleep, because time has proven on multiple occasions that shit happens when it’s the least expected.

And those rare moments in which you do, in fact, go off to dreamland, your demon companion gets the itch of testing out your endurance through realistic-looking nightmares. You’re sure it’s mostly just to spite you, since you just know he doesn’t hate you as much as the average demon hates its host.

Damn you, Karkodan.

In synthesis, you would be fine with keeping watch overnight every night, but you doubt your teammates would ever allow that. They made a strict schedule of everyone’s tasks and have been following it by letter thus far.

You hate cooking on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Just because you know how to make some dishes average in taste does not mean you can adapt to everyone’s palate, much less cook for bigger masses. What’s worse, Kimizuki has the audacity of complaining when those miss-happenings occur even though you both know your occupation is not the least bit related to cooking, but to the art of pulverizing vampires. Quite evidently, not the same thing.

The moon is full today, you notice. How beautiful.

Splattered sideways on the windowsill, you admire the night sky with a leg resting across the frame. The moonlight shines above the empty roads and patches of grass, giving some light to the abandoned areas and thus easing up the work of keeping watch for unwanted visitors.

Your fingers curl around the hand fan that is tucked in the left pocket of your pants. You pull it out and fling it open to drive away the heat of the night, careful not to puncture your face with any of its sharp edges. “Hey, Karkodan?” you say.

There’s a long pause that follows during the time it takes your demon to reply.

Smiling mischievously, you add, “Oh, nothing. Just wanted to say you’re an ass.”

You sit up when you hear a loud crash inside the kitchen and dash forward with the fan prepared to strike. Your back hits the wall, a little too unintentionally rough, right beside the door leading up to the room.

More dishes crash on the floor. Between the possibility of having an intruder or some rodent sneaking in, you hope for the latter, because after having talked shit to your demon all night, you doubt he’s in the mood to cooperate with you in battle.

You inhale a breath and burst into the room, swinging your fan up to shield your face from any potential attacks.

You see a patch of blond hair cowering toward the far corner of the room and then lay eyes on the mess that is left of the kitchen. Broken tableware scattered on the floor. Cans of food, too. Some of which have cracked open with the fall. Not only a mess, but also a waste of rations. You can’t contain a scowl.

Kimisuki will not be happy, you suffer mentally. Especially because he has the roots of a housemaid.

Meanwhile, there is a flood of whimpers and moans coming off from the boy in the corner, who you barely get a look of given that he has his whole head dipped in his hands. Regardless, you don’t need to make a thorough scan with your eyes to know who it is.

“Mikaela?” you whisper. There’s a perturbing feeling at the back of your neck, warning you against the steps you’re taking to approach him. “Is… everything okay?”

His reaction is immediate. “Go away!” The threat is hoarse, taking away the fright he attempted to induce. That and watching him squirm into a ball against the wall is enough of a telltale sign to what is going on.

“Oh no,” you whisper. “You need blood, right now.”

A groan tears from his throat, and it gives your legs enough impulse to dash for the door.

“I’ll go get Yuichiro.”

You realize far too late that you should have kept that thought to yourself, because previous experiences should have taught you by now that stubborn Mikaela hates accepting his family’s blood for personal needs. Your back hits the floor with enough force to make you spit out the air from your lungs, then Mikaela’s whole body weight follows when proven he lacks the strength to keep himself hoisted above you. His hair kisses the skin on your cheek and his quick breaths warm your neck. You feel anything but comfortable with the aftermath of his assault, which has left you disoriented and with leftover pain.

For a moment, you feel anger. Especially when he has the audacity to threaten, “You have no business telling Yuu.”

“Uh, yeah I do,” you sneer. “Our lives are in danger whenever you’re in this state. Take our current position, for example.”

He tries to move, but accidentally plops back over you without any support, and your body is forced to feel the direct hit once again.

Your hand tightens around your weapon with a mind of its own while you weigh your options; between forcing him off you to run for Yuichiro or scream for help.

Fuck it, you think, I’ll wake everyone up.

A whimper breaks inside his throat as you’re taking in a breath through parted lips. The emotion that comes off him is strong enough that it makes you pause. His struggle somehow triggers a very sudden sense of pity you didn’t feel before.

“I’m a monster,” Mikaela mutters, so unintentionally close to your ear that the sound gives you a shiver. He squirms once again in an attempt to repress his urges, but the tight sound of his voice demonstrates he gets no results. “I’m so thirsty for blood, I’m clearly a monster.”

You haven’t known Mikaela long enough to judge his morals, nor did you care before tonight. Your idea of him came to be because of Yuichiro’s insistence to trust him. You were never on board with the idea of taking a stranded vampire in, but Yuichiro never gave anyone a choice.

In time, you learned to tolerate Mikaela’s presence. He proved to have no interest in sucking people dry for the mere fun of it. His body is condemned to need it. For the most part, he swallows down his thirst until blood is mandatory to keep him sane. This strategy has been working well thus far, but that doesn’t make him any less dangerous.

You’ve been trash-talking vampires your whole life, yet as it happens that one of them finally agrees to what you’ve known all along, your thoughts make an unexpected one eighty. This is your first time feeling pity for a vampire who claims to be a monster.

Funny how the world works.

“As far as vampires go,” you say, “I don’t think you’re half bad.”

He hasn’t stopped struggling against his thirst and you wonder why the hell you haven’t kicked him off while his fangs hover a breath away from your neck.

Slowly, Mikaela starts inching away. Any faster and he may snap mid action.  

You press your forearms on the floor and hoist your body up, if only briefly to avoid triggering something in Mikaela. “Unless you want to put all of us in danger, including Yuichiro.” You surprise yourself with the soft sound of your voice. “I would suggest you drink his blood.”

He scoots away, looking off to the side. “You don’t understand.”

You pay no heed to the unnecessary bitterness in his tone, though you may very well lose all sense of empathy if he keeps this up. “Enlighten me, then. We have all night.”

His bright eyes stand out under the moonlight when he turns to glare at you. “You would never know how hard it is to treat my only family like he’s cattle.”

You have seen a bunch of red eyes in battle. The vampires have given you enough reasons to despise anything crimson-looking, yet you are able to stare into the red eyes of Mikaela without the primal urge to kill. Never before have you seen so much emotional pain in the stare of a vampire who appears to be starving for freedom more than the taste of blood.

The fangs of a vampire have not once punctured your skin. Oddly enough, you’re now wondering how that may feel despite being told by your sense of reason that being bitten will be anything but pleasant.

“I must be going crazy,” you mutter, loud enough for Mikaela to hear.

He throws you a questionable look, one that transforms into sheer panic the moment he sees you popping open the first buttons of your shirt.

You release a sigh. “Alright, chow down so you can stop whining already.”

He swings his head sideways, exclaiming as he laughs bitterly, “You must be joking.”

“Sadly, I’m not.”

Though, if Yuichiro suddenly barged in, you think, I’d be forever grateful.

Mikaela’s eyes are full of suspicion as he tries to read your intentions. There’s a pronounced line creasing his forehead, scrunching the rest of his face into a scowl, though you think the intention behind it has a lot more to do with the urges he’s trying to repress. “I can’t think of a reason as to why you would want to do this,” he mutters.

“You have made your terms clear,” you answer, “You want blood, but not Yuichiro’s, right? And if I let you lose your mind while I’m in charge of guarding for the night, then I will bear responsibility for the consequences.” You can’t tell if he’s shaking his head to clear off his mind from the constant thought of blood or if he simply doesn’t want to listen to reason. Whichever the case, you don’t have the patience for a therapy session. Actually, not once did you imagine you would ever try to convince a vampire of sucking your blood.

The irony.

You invite him closer with the movements of your head, but Mikaela scoots further away.

“Ah, come on, Mikaela.” You hit the floor to let some steam out. “Stop making this more complicated than it needs to be. I’m losing my patience here.”

He drives his stare away and sneers, “Then don’t bother.”

Your eyes want to roll to the back of your skull. “Are you kidding me? Did you even listen to anything of what I just said?” Upon realization that your temper is only pushing him further away, you take in a breath to calm yourself and try once more. “Listen. You won’t owe me anything, okay? Nor will I resent you, though I doubt you would even care about that. I just want us all to be safe and that includes you. Unless you want me to kill you before you lose your sanity, that is.”

He aims a glare your way. 

You huff. “We’re on the same page, then.”

Crimson protrudes from your skin when you puncture your wrist with the sharp edges of your fan. You hear hard swallowing and his shallow breaths. He’s clearly on the edge.

“To make this easier on the both of us,” you explain. “Settle for my wrist.”

His dilated pupils follow the long trail of blood that slides down your wrist. It actually worries you how hypnotized he looks, making you question if he’ll be able to keep himself in check. You’ll just have to smack him off with your weapon if push comes to shove. Which also helps you realize that the more Mikaela waits, the weaker his control will be when his mouth tastes blood.

You click your tongue. “Stop being a wuss and bite-!”

His fangs sink through your flesh in the speed of a second. The pain that follows isn’t pleasant, but it’s nothing that you can’t tolerate in silence. You may have been asking for a lot by thinking he would take this at a leisurely pace and talk you through the sensations you’d be feeling.

It’s close to what you imagined it would be like minus your consent and lack of struggle. Your body instinctively screams for self-defense the more blood leaves it, but your mind forces every muscle into staying poised. Without realizing it, you’re placing your trust on a vampire you barely know, something you have never done before, not even with a fellow human. Your life is in his hands right now and the thought is a bit scary.

His fangs detach from your veins and you feel a lick. His long hair stops kissing your skin when he steps away to give you some space and you realize that his smooth locks may have contributed in keeping you serene throughout the whole moment.

He brushes the sleeve of his shirt over his lips to erase whatever is left of the evidence. His eyes search for comfort in looking anywhere else but the belittling stare he’s sure you own.

However, when Mikaela finally gets the courage to look at you, he encounters nothing remotely close to what he imagined.

He takes a minute to weigh his options while you wait for the dizziness to pass. “Thank you.”

Your vision is still shaky when you look at him, but there’s no resentment that could make you go angry for it. You plop down on the floor without concern for gracefulness and breathe out noisily.

“Don’t mention it.”

Chapter Text

Your hand grips the can of beans as you take in a breath to stabilize your emotions. You try to think of a song, Guren’s long-ass sermons, even Shinya’s creepy laughter would suffice; just about anything if it means blocking out Kimizuki’s voice.

“What do you mean we’re only having beans today?” he asks. “What about the three cans of tuna I brought in yesterday?”

But his annoying voice overpowers everything else.

“Hey, are you listening?” He flicks the back of your head and receives a snarl from you in return, but he looks content enough with your attention. “What happened to our food?”

Kimizuki’s pestering has reached the point where you’re starting to question if you should expose Mikaela in exchange for peace. You don’t have a reason to cover up for him and neither did he ever ask you to. Technically, the one indebted to you should be Mikaela, not the other way around.

Yet here you are, swallowing Kimizuki’s bullshit even though it was Mikaela who dropped the cans and messed up the kitchen.

Wait, you realize, Kimizuki hasn’t even seen the kitchen. He won’t let me live through it, God.

He doesn’t acknowledge that you’ve been doing your damn best all morning to spice up the beans with salt and whatnot. Instead, he smacks the back of your head, hoping to force the words out of you. Little does he know, you were only trying to keep your mouth shut from verbally shitting on his dead mother. 

“Stop dodging the question,” he nags. “Where the hell is-“

You spin away from the pot to throw a glare at him. “Up your mother’s ass!”

The sound of laughter stops what could have easily been a destructive battle between two users of powerful cursed gears, all in the name of some missing cans. Such are the aftereffects of the apocalypse.

Life was bound to get difficult after the death of two thirds of the human population, and it only got harder after the emergence of vampires, demons and monsters, who took advantage of the chaos to feed off a disoriented civilization.

With the years, as it started to look like the world was finally recuperating from the blow, the Imperial Demon Army came up with some serious shit up their sleeves, including good old Guren, who you initially thought could be trusted over the Hiragii bloodline. 

Now you know he’s full of bullshit. At least, that’s what you think. Yuichiro still holds him in high regard for reasons unknown to you.

The poor idiot.

Almost nothing remains of the Imperial Demon Army nowadays, not the peaceful times, nor the family that was created between the soldiers. With nowhere else to go after the Nagoya incident, you chose to follow Shinoa’s squad. The only downside is that you realized they support the idea of returning to save Guren. You’re moving with the flow for now, but if there’s any chance to flee, you will take it.

“What’s all the fuss about?”

You look around and find Yuichiro grunting the words. He’s on the porch of the house, stretching out his arms to the sky beside a silent, yet very attentive Mikaela.

Oh, right. You’re also stuck with a man-child who only recently discovered he’s an apocalyptic demon of sorts. And he brought a vampire with him, of course.

You aren’t in the mood to respond, or look at Mikaela for that matter. It’s not like he intentionally got you into this mess. Technically, you brought it upon yourself, though you wouldn’t be in this situation if he just drank blood whenever his body needed it.

You turn back to the pot and begin stirring the water, finding it easier to ignore everyone than risk showing them your scowl.

“Now you’re going to feed us water?”

You grab your curse gear and turn back to Kimizuki, aiming it at him with threatening vibes. In case you don’t hate his word-vomit enough, you despise his tactless sarcasm even more. It hit your ego a tad harder, as you were, in fact, stupidly stirring bland water.

“I’m...!” You pause to think, but then Kimizuki sneers at the obvious, irking you further. “I’m ventilating the water, if you must oh so necessarily know!”

“Okay, okay, you guys.” Yuichiro places a hand on Kimizuki’s shoulder while also sharing a casual look with you. “What’s going on?”

“She lost the cans of tuna I brought in yesterday,” Kimizuki steps over Yuichiro’s sentence before he can finish it. 

You just know he’s intentionally selling you out in front of the guy with the biggest appetite in the group.

As foreseen, Yuichiro’s eyes widen. “Wait, what?”

“And she doesn’t have the guts to explain what happened,” Kimizuki says as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Which makes me think that perhaps she ate it all by herself.”

“No way,” Yuichiro exclaims, as innocent-looking as ever. “How could you—?”

Amidst your indignation, you ignore the strike that Mikaela lands on his ribs to stop him mid sentence.

“What?!” you snarl, teeth greeting to the point it starts numbing your jaw. “Get real, Shit-zuki!”

“Then stop whining and give us an explanation.” 

It seems he’s gotten used to the recent nickname since he doesn’t address it.

You throw the spoon back inside the bowl with enough strength to cause a dangerous splash. “I’m recovering your stupid cans of tuna, alright?” You dash past the three males and climb the stairs leading up to the porch, growling, “Where are the fucking keys?”

Makoto comes out as chaos breaks inside the house because you’re turning the living room upside down in search of the car keys. His eyes never leave the open door as he walks up to the trio of men, wearing a puzzled look. 

“What’s up with her?” he asks.

You race back outside before Kimizuki can answer. Your eye can be seen twitching as you pat your hair back into place. “I can’t find the van keys!”

“Right here,” answers Kimizuki as he takes them out of his back pocket. He seems nonchalant to the eyes of everyone, but you can see a smug look past his facial mask.

There’s a pause in which you swallow down the urge to murder him. You take in a breath and step down the stairs, muttering incoherent curses at Kimizuki. Everyone’s eyes follow your movements as you walk past him and snatch away the keys. Your eyes stay loyal to the front. 

“What happened to your wrist?” 

It's the first time he takes notice of the bandages.

“I bit it myself while thinking of your face,” you say without looking back. “Where’s the nearest shopping market?”

His expression twists into a scowl. “There’s a gas station about seven miles from here.”

Makoto catches up to you, looking concerned. “You can’t head out. We haven’t surveyed the area enough.”

“I have Karkodan.”

“There could be nobles,” he insists.

“They can kiss my ass.”

Makoto stops while you continue to walk forward. He thinks about his options and acquires a determined look afterwards. “Fine, then. I will go with you.” He speeds up to the house. “Let me grab Genbushin.”

Mikaela interrupts him. “There’s no need. I’ll go with her.”

Everyone stops simultaneously, and you finally twist your head to look back. All eyes follow him as he walks up to you without revealing any thoughts in his poker face. You have yet to retake your pace by the time he passes you.

Yuichiro cracks a grin in spite of the circumstances. He’s content with knowing Mikaela is finally integrating himself into the group. He waves his hand, nonchalant to the set of events that led you to take this brash decision in the first place. “Great thinking, Mika!” he calls. “You’ll be of better help than Makoto.”

The mentioned man glares in his direction. “Excuse me?”

As the distance increases between you and the others, Mikaela looks over his shoulder to stick an eye on you. “I can drive if you want.”

You toss him the keys without a second thought. 

“Please do.”

You hop into the van and plummet down on the passenger’s seat. The doors from both ends close simultaneously and Mikaela starts the engine right away to get on the road without wasting time. 

You glance away to avoid Mikaela’s attention, and the distraction eventually lets your shoulder blades fall loose. The sky is so cloudy the sun doesn't have a chance to peek through. There isn’t much to gawk at other than the empty fields and a couple of abandoned houses every mile or so. 

It isn’t long before you get bored and look back to the front, sinking further in the seat as you sigh. 

Mikaela has been stealing glances at you throughout the trip, and he finally gets enough courage to address what’s been keeping him curious all this time now that you seem to be more at ease from the fight with Kimizuki.

“Why did you do that?”

“What?” You feign ignorance, but one look from Mikaela and your resolution dissipates with a sigh. You don’t have the energy to keep up the act. “Don’t think too much of it. I just didn’t want to be the kind of person that tattletales on others.”

I’m talking about you, Shit-zuki.

Mikaela doesn’t ask further, but you have already acquired some interest in the topic. Anything beats the boring view.

“And you. Why did you offer your company?”

He waits a little before answering, “I guess I felt bad.”

You hum. “Yeah, Kimizuki makes everyone feel pity for him.”

His eyes are on the road as you run a thorough scan of his face. You didn’t think he would smile at your poor joke, but the sight draws you in because of how unexpected it is.

You move your eyes away when Mikaela throws you a questioning glance. The silence gets thicker immediately after. With nothing else to say, you pull out your fan and flick it open, but it feels like his eyes are drilling holes on you every time he looks away from the road.

You do your best to keep your attention ahead as you swing the fan with nervous movements.

It comes as a surprise when Mikaela talks to you less than two minutes later. “Is it that hot?”

Letting loose, you chuckle. “Nah, I just love to pester the shit out of my demon.”

Karkodan growls on cue, and it’s a blessing Mikaela can’t hear it.

“He hates to be treated like a hand fan,” you elaborate. “But that’s what he is in the long run. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Fuck you, you hear the demon snarl.

Mikaela switches topics instead of answering your question. Unlike most times, his eyes are showing something other than emptiness, but you can’t be sure of what exactly.

“You also lied about the marks on your wrist,” he says, and looks at you when another chuckle forms in your throat.

You brush him off with your hand. “Seriously, stop worrying. I meant it when I said you wouldn’t owe me anything.” 

“I don’t take sucking other people’s blood lightly.” His voice sounds like something akin to a snarl, but not quite there. You can tell the topic hits a nerve every time it’s addressed. “You and the others may think I’m like most vampires, but I’m not.”

His statement brings back the image of a conflicted Mikaela, who starved for blood to the point of insanity, yet refused any. Last night’s events changed your views in a drastic way, because you hadn’t seen so much emotional pain in the red eyes of a vampire before then. You also recognized that Mikaela has never done anything worth your contempt to begin with, and with today’s occurrences, you feel even less entitled to hate him.

 “I know.” 

You refuse to return the stare Mikaela looks at you with, but it doesn’t mean you feel any less of its weight on your shoulders. 

He finally looks back at the road after a while, and you wonder how longer would have Mikaela dared to stare if he wasn’t driving. 

The mood inside the vehicle goes from thick to insanely loaded in the span of seconds. You clear your throat because of how awkward it feels, brain going haywire as you try to come up with a topic of conversation that will distance you from the current one.

“Man,” you breathe out. “I’d give anything for some spaghetti.”

Not the smoothest of topics, but you can’t think of anything better on an empty stomach. The strange mixture of canned tuna and beans has been getting harder to swallow the more days you continue to eat it for every meal. It got to the point where you skipped last night’s dinner because your stomach didn’t settle with keeping the food down. 

At the very least, Yuichiro went to bed with a grin on his stuffed face.

Mikaela stirs the van off the road as the gas station Kimizuki mentioned comes into view. There are a couple of fuel dispensers that don’t look like they will work anymore and a small convenience store at the back. 

However, it is apparent by the time you reach the parking area that the place has already been cleared of its items, because the glass doors and windows lay in pieces on the floor and you can see the empty shelves from your seat in the van.

You are already going over your mental map of the area as you shove a leg out of the vehicle, hoping to remember any other nearby stores, but nothing lights a bulb in your head and you settle for the thought of having Kimizuki pester you about the cans for the rest of day. The idea is enough to make you physically deflate, especially as you see the empty shelves up close from the entrance.

Mikaela flings his arm in front of you, and when your expression of raised brows meets his eyes, he further elaborates with, “Stay focused. Anyone could be hiding inside.” He noticed way before arriving that your mind was somewhere else, but you don’t have the patience to appreciate his act of concern. 

“I have no problem with taking care of myself, thank you very much.” You push his arm away and walk into the store without turning a single eye at him even as you disappear into the first row of shelves.

He sidetracks to the opposite end of the store to cut the search short. 

You would have never thought that this fine-looking day would start out with Kimizuki’s yapping about the stupid cans of tuna, nor that you would be forced to go out on an empty stomach and little rest, only to stop at an empty convenience store. You’re already on the fifth row and can’t even find a dirty sponge to chew on.

Loud noise rings into the ceiling following the multiple kicks you land on the shelves. Given that you aren’t bothering with keeping your voice down either, chances are Mikaela knows it’s you and not some random attacker, which would explain why he hasn’t come running to you. 

You start to wonder by the time you stop punching the shelves if Mikaela has already left. Honestly, you wouldn’t have a reason to blame him should he decide to wait for you in the van and leave you to your own thing.

Leaning against the shelf, you throw your head back and heave a sigh. “What now, Karkodan?”

Fuck off.

He’s about to kiss the dirty floor for that answer, but Karkodan is lucky enough to have Mikaela stepping in just in time.

“Hey.”

You twist your head to the side, not having expected his presence at all. “Mikaela.” Your voice is breathy as you shove the curse gear away. “What is it?”

Mikaela raises his hand to show you a can of tuna. His other one follows shortly with a second can. 

He feels a new kind of relief when the tension around you seems to dispel.

“Holy shit,” you exclaim. “Where did you find them?”

“They were deep into the top shelves.”

You smack your forehead on impulse, berating yourself for not thinking of that sooner. Then again, you remember Guren lecturing you many times about the stupidities an outrage has driven you to commit on the battlefield. 

You realize shortly after that Mikaela is only carrying two cans and the concern starts showing on your face.

He catches on without the need to be asked. “I checked all of the top shelves and could only find two.”

Even though you deflate a bit, your mood doesn’t plummet downhill like before. “Okay, no biggie. We can make due with two.” You step closer to Mikaela, enough so that he sees your new smile. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t reply, but you can see some contentment in the way his lips curve, if only a bit.

You consider yourself lucky that Mikaela found bigger cans compared to what Kimizuki brought the other day, but you know it still won’t be enough to fill the stomachs of seven teenagers to the point of satiety. It’s a good thing you don’t have to count Mikaela for obvious reasons, and as for Yuichiro, you can cut his portion short since he ate that extra meal you so generously gave him last night. Plus, if you skip your meal as well, then maybe the amount will suffice.

With those thoughts in mind, you spend the entire ride back mentally preparing for a full day of no food. Ironically, the constant thought encourages your stomach to grumble more times than it normally would have. You only pray that Mikaela doesn’t hear it.

Who am I kidding, you note. He’s a vampire. Of course he will notice. 

Not that he has any reason to care. 

Your annoyance is once again sparked to life when you’re welcomed back by the hungry looks of your teammates not even a minute after having stepped down from the van, but it gives you the necessary push to fly by the food’s preparations in less than an hour.

Of course, Kimizuki doesn’t miss the chance to call you out on falling short of one can.

It’s a little late by the time you start serving the dishes, but in spite of everything, everyone looks content with the mixture of spices you threw in to give more life to their brunch. Not even Kimizuki protests, which already feels like an entire win on its own. You think he may have been in a foul mood because of hunger, and who are you to judge when the same happened to you?

Yuichiro walks back to the table with his serving, though looks at you briefly as he notices you’re not following with any plate of food. “You aren’t eating?”

“I ate while I was making the plates.” You feel everyone’s stares on your back, but you do not turn to acknowledge any. “I’ll go wash the dishes and relieve Yoichi of the hassle.”

“You shouldn’t eat ahead of the rest without communicating it first,” Kimizuki intercepts before Yoichi can argue about your last minute decision. “It’s basic etiquette.”

Your hand closes around the spoon with tension. You feel tempted to fling it at his pink hair.

Never mind what I said, you think, this guy will always be irritating by nature.

You have an entire hour to get lost in your head while you wash the dishes and finish other chores. In spite of acknowledging how much you complain about all things involving housework, you can’t believe you’re struggling so much to adapt to this new kind of lifestyle. Considering you have endured worse things in the military and under Guren’s command, this should be cake-walk. Training was pure hell on most occasions.

You finish your tasks before dawn and thus take on Makoto’s invitation to play some rounds of poker before his night shift begins. Usually, you have terrible luck in all things revolving around gambling, but you shock Makoto and yourself when you end the game with an entire pile of leaves by your side.

“Woah,” he says. “I guess you got lucky.”

“I won every round on the day we decided to bet on leaves. I wouldn’t call it luck.”

Makoto leaves on his own after you choose to stay out for the sunset. The house’s location makes up for all the things it lacks, which is why the group spends most of the days out either admiring the view or just taking in the fresh air. It’s another reason why you tend to spend your nightly watches stuck on the window, because having an amazing view of the sunset means there’s a clear sky full of stars at night.

You think that Makoto is coming back to collect his forgotten cards when footsteps start pressing on the grass toward you.

“Catch.”

You swing your head just in time to stop the flying object from smashing into your face. The scowl in your face is marked as you glare imaginary daggers at Mikaela and raise the item to a proper eye level. “What the hell—”

It’s a can of spaghetti, you realize. When did he get this?

You don’t need to inquire anything. The surprise in your eyes communicates enough.

“I found it at the store.” He plans on ending his explanation there, but decides otherwise once you’ve jerked up an interrogating brow. “I had the feeling you wouldn’t keep it for yourself if I gave it to you back at the store.”

As if receiving a thoughtful gift from Mikaela wasn’t strange enough, he added a nice compliment to the combo. You feel stripped off your confidence, practically naked as you stutter for words without the proper boldness to look into his eyes.

There’s an uncomfortable pause before you can finally say, “What makes you so sure about that?”

“Because behind that facade of yours,” he says while turning around. “You’re remarkably compassionate.”

You feel a tsunami of reactions inside your body, of which you may have only experienced a few in your early years of high school.

“You, too.” There’s some color in your face that you immediately hide from view. You’re lucky enough that he’s facing the opposite direction. “Thank you, Mikaela.”

His name is but a mere whisper, but he definitely hears it. “Don’t mention it.”

Chapter Text

The air around you has gained unbearable weight by the time your lids open. You feel the pressure of gravity crushing you to the bed, and it is only when you start to struggle for air that your body acquires the strength to fight it until you’re able to sit up.

The pressure disperses, but the ominous ambience remains. It’s thick enough to be seen coursing across the room.

Maybe it’s the grogginess or the fact that your reaction was instantaneous. You don’t question the strange feeling in your gut because there isn’t a thought in your head besides the glass of water your parched throat desires.

You swing your legs over and climb down the ladder with gentle steps, but the whole bunk squeaks like an infestation of mice before you hop to the floor.

Your companion shuffles under the blankets and sits up, no doubt woken up by the noise. “What...?” The words are slurred as she rubs the back of her hand over her eyes, trying to shake off the sleep to see better. “Did something happen?” 

“Just thirsty,” you murmur without halting your steps, only stopping once you’re at the door to give her a look. The darkness doesn’t let you see any more than her silhouette. “I’ll be back in a bit. Just go back to sleep, Shinoa.”

You become less wary of the atmosphere when she sinks back into the mattress without addressing anything. You’re sure by now it’s probably a thing of your head, and you continue to walk out into the hallway with tranquility.

Strangely enough, it starts feeling like the house is devoid of any beings the farther you move from the room. Everyone’s passed out on their beds except for the two in charge of guard duty, but that shouldn’t make the house feel like it’s abandoned. The silence is of such depth that you’re easily startled by the noise that comes from the kitchen. You hear whimpers and plates shattering. 

The thought of a possible intruder makes you stride forward more determined than before. Your back hits the wall beside the door and you take in a breath. Once your nerves have calmed down, you storm in, realizing far too late about your forgotten cursed weapon.

The place is a mess, and a mental image of Kimizuki’s scowl makes you sigh. No one suffers a mess more than he does. You’re sure he’s got the spirit of a maid hiding behind his manly features.

A low whine takes your attention to the vampire that sits by the wall. He’s repeatedly shoving his forehead against the hard surface with enough force you’re sure it will eventually break his skull.

You wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what he really wanted. The signs are too obvious and the situation feels familiar, but you can only recall blurs whenever you try to scavenge for any memories in your head.

His hair is a mess of splattered locks, undoubtedly his own doing. You’ve seen a few blond boys in your life, but never of this specific texture and color since it’s not the most common look in Japan. Those couple of red slits are impossible to forget, too.

Your movements are hesitant as you inch closer. “Mikaela?” you call. It’s only a whisper, but his head flicks around with enough speed to make it seem like you invoked a possessed being from hell.

You can’t tell if he’s trying to hide it, but you know that his hungry gaze is shifting between your eyes and neck. Fangs protrude from his mouth as he pants for air, and you can’t be sure if what you’re feeling is wariness or compassion.

“Are you still yourself?” you ask, and are patient enough to wait for a response that never comes. “Hey! You better answer me or I’ll knock you out without holding anything back.”

Daring words for someone who forgot to bring her cursed weapon.

“I’m thirsty,” he chokes out, yet oddly enough it sounds like something akin to a purr. “...so thirsty.”

You can’t believe what you’re seeing. Mikaela crawls to you with an arm spread out in your direction, whining and begging with meaningless murmurs. 

This is not Mikaela. The real one is usually cool-headed, and would never touch a human, much less plead for it. It’s true he tends to lose composure in situations where the thirst has become too strong, but he would never act like this. 

“You want my blood?” you play along, sounding uninterested.

“Please, please,” he whimpers. “Please, I only trust you.”

The syllables of your name feel foreign when you hear him say them. There’s an air of seduction that goes against his personality. 

You hold back the urge to crack a grin.

“Alright.” Your expression is inviting as you tug on the collar of your shirt with a finger. “Take as much as you want.”

It’s as though you’ve unlocked an invisible gate. Mikaela pounces past the line of your personal space and brings you down on the floor. His hands cradle the back of your head to keep it away from the impact. It feels like you have laid down on a pillow.

Despite your permission, you push him back before he can sink his fangs on your neck. His restless eyes look at you with desperation, imploring for an explanation the longer you take to speak. 

“Are you sure about this?” you ask. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You know he’s trying to suppress a growl when his brows furrow.

“Why would it make me uncomfortable?”

Your smile morphs into a grin. The confusion on his face is priceless.

“Nice try, Karkodan,” you sneer, sounding as proud about your perception as you look.

The prince-like appearance of Mikaela is ruined when crimson red mutates into a couple of dark beads. He slips a forked tongue through his teeth, hissing at you with the same resentment his whole face displays.

“Damn you,” he snarls. The insult you get from Karkodan almost daily has a different impact when spoken in Mikaela’s voice. You’re surprised by how much it annoys you that he’s still in this form.

“I won again. Now, revert back.” You exert more force against his chest, disgusted by the proximity. “And get off of me, already!”

The image of the kitchen cracks like it was made of glass and gradually falls into pieces until there’s only a white background left. In spite of the times you have already been here, this place always gives you the creeps, more than what your demon could ever accomplish. It gives you the feeling of a bright abysm that would stretch out infinitely should you decide to run for an end.

Scales of white and green appear in organized patterns with the body that elongates around you, squishing you tight, but without meaning potential harm. Before you realize it, you’ve been rendered imobile by a giant snake. 

You confront the black eyes of Karkodan with a glare. The stare-down must have prolonged for a full twenty seconds, then the hiss of his tongue slips past his sealed mouth and cuts through the silence like a knife.

“You’re an ass, Karkodan.” His name becomes a whine when he compresses around you, but you speak your thoughts anyway. “And an ungrateful bastard, you know that?”

“How did you guess?” he demands, ignoring the insult he tends to acknowledge. “Where did I go wrong?”

You know you’re not the only one who has to deal with demon-induced nightmares, because every other person that’s contracted to a demon has them, too. Still, you might be the only one unfortunate enough to have made a contract with a persistent asshole who tries to take over your consciousness almost every night. You have already confirmed that no one gets these nightmares as constantly as you do.

Karkodan has done it many times, in fact, that you have developed the unusual skill of spotting even the tiniest error in his illusions. That’s all it takes to beat a demon, and tonight was no different.

“You could transform into anyone and I’d still spot the natural stupidity on your face,” you say, and hold back a whine when he squeezes you tighter. “You may have gotten his looks, Karkodan. But if there’s anything I know about Mikaela, is that he can be the whiniest bitch when it comes to accepting human blood.”

“I didn’t think you would already be this close,” he replies. There’s a playful sound adjusting his voice differently. “I honestly thought he was only a mere vampire you fancied.”

Your guarded facade cracks under pressure. “W-what? Don’t be ridiculous!” You hit his scales to release your frustration. “I figured it out because you were stupid enough to recreate a scene that happened a day ago. Of course, I’d notice.”

“I wouldn’t have constructed this illusion had I felt a lack of connection between the two of you.”

You cross your arms and look away, feeling exposed. “This is bullshit,” you mutter.

“Is it?” he queries.

If snakes could smile, he would have an entire grin on his face.

You’re done playing the victim. It’s time to attack his pride.

“I don’t understand why you’re so intent on using me as a vessel.” You crack a smirk, knowing the topic strikes a nerve every time. “You would still be stuck, all alone, in that underground basement if it wasn’t for my compassion.”

The muscles on his jaw tense considerably and he hisses, “I will devour you!”

“You can’t hate me that much.”

“Go die.”

Karkodan wonders if every human host is like you. His years as a curse weapon have been relatively short compared to other demons, but any other weapon would have been able to reel in a few victims in the span of time that Karkodan lost in solitary confinement, ignored by the humans who thought that a war fan couldn’t serve much purpose on the battlefield.

His pride suffered a downfall for decades until you picked him as your choice of weapon, though only because you wanted to pester Guren after he told you not to touch it. Now, you’re paying the consequences for that mischief. 

Guren once joked about your personality being strikingly similar to Karkodan’s. Positive results show on the battlefield because of this, but true shit unfolds whenever you’re off duty. Your stubbornness clashes directly with his, hence the constant arguing.

“You give yourself too much credit,” he says.

You jerk up your brow, intending to taunt him. “Do I, really? I still chose you even though Guren advised me against it.”

Karkodan ducks down to your level, bearing his fangs on display. “I chose you,” he snarls. The power in his voice blows your hair out of place, but you stay unaffected.

“Yeah, yeah.” You pat your hair down. “Whatever you say.”

“Don’t act so cocky, brat. I know you are smitten by the vampire.” He narrows his eyes with menace as it looks like you’re about to protest. “And when you finally realize that, I’ll be ready.”

“I’ve only interacted with the guy twice! What kind of nonsense are you speaking?” You cross your arms to display authority, though Karkodan knows he has the lead right now. “I’m not a high school girl. I know better.”

His chuckle echoes off into the abyss of white walls. “You underestimate your feelings, little one.”

You growl in return. “Karko-“

Pure black shows in between the cracks that split open on the white walls. The pieces fall down and shatter until complete darkness blocks your vision.

Opposed to the dream, you wake up to the sun rays on your face. The motion of sitting up makes you dizzy and you look at the hand fan that is tucked beside you.

Your face contorts into a scowl and you grab it tightly.

Your roommates wake up to the sound of your loud curses and the repetitive slamming of your weapon against the wall. It’s nothing the girls haven’t seen before, but they always worry about the demon rebelling if he’s to ever become tired of your mistreatment.

“At it again with your bestie?” Shinoa inquires. Her voice is deep and sluggish as she rubs the sleep off of her eyes.

You slam the weapon once more and angle your face in her direction. The frustration is notable in your expression as you think about the hardships that await you tonight. It’s your turn to stay up on guard duty and Karkodan has already made it an incoming nightmare by taking away from your rest.

Mistuba doesn’t appreciate the early hour and shoves the sheets over her face to block out the sun. “It’s too damn early,” she grunts.

Ignoring her complaint, you toss the hand fan into the back pocket of your shorts and jump off the bunk. Shinoa’s maroon eyes follow your movements as you stretch your muscles and throw a proper shirt on.

“Where are you going?”

“Getting some water,” you grumble, still drowsy. The weight of her gaze leaves your back when you step into the hallway and head for the stairs.

You wonder if the group has the same ideas that Karkodan mentioned; the ones about you and Mikaela. Despite the confidence you portrayed before, his barbaric insinuations inflicted a heavy blow on your pride. You can only pray that he doesn’t catch on to your insecurities.

His laughter echoes off inside your head and, for the first time, you dismiss it.

There’s nothing worth noting between you and Mikaela other than the mutual respect that has developed. It’s a behavior that was installed in you like a chip because of the importance the army gives to teamwork. That’s about as far as the topic goes, and Kakodan is wasting his time in searching further.

The whole thing with the can of spaghetti was rather charming, though.

Careful, taunts Karkodan. There’s an air of playfulness when he speaks, puncturing your restored mood and ripping it to shreds.

You lash out on the kitchen door as you enter, and it slams against the wall.

“I didn’t do it. I swear!” Yuichiro exclaims with his hands at the level of his head.

You blink once, twice, and walk in without expressing a visible change in your face. Whatever mischief he may have committed is not of your interest and neither do you find enjoyment in exposing someone when the topic doesn’t concern you.

Besides, you would team up with anyone if it’s to go against Kimizuki. You know that Yuichiro has a rocky history with him, too. The probabilities that he has done something that will spite him are high.

Your essence is collected until you drop your stare on the shattered tea set that sits on the counter, shielded by his body, and your hand freezes before it gets to the cupboard. For a moment, you look as panicked as Yuichiro, because everyone in the group knows those broken cups are part of some rare, Chinese collection that Kimizuki recuperated from his quarters after the Nagoya incident.

Yuichiro is not at fault. You have been hiding the pieces from everyone’s knowledge since yesterday. Now, you’ll undergo a lot of hassle for a set that Kimizuki doesn’t even use. It’s a collector’s thing, apparently, and it doesn’t make any sense to you.

There’s not a crease on your forehead that could tarnish your look of indifference as you grab a glass from the cupboard and throw the door shut. You catch him flinching from the corner of your sight, and use the induced fear to further enhance your threat. “I’ll tell Shit-zuki that last week’s dinner didn’t burn itself if you speak about this.”

Yuichiro flinches and dramatically shakes his hands. His head moves along, too. “No, no! I never intended to tell, I swear!”

You grab the two liter water bottle with ease and serve yourself a glass. The silence is hefty and you can tell it’s clawing at Yuichiro’s nerves, but you bring the glass to your lips and take your time in swallowing the liquid.

The warm water doesn’t have the effect you would have liked on a hot morning, but your parched throat welcomes it even so.

“We have a deal, then,” you murmur into the glass. “No one will know either story.”

At least, until Kimizuki finds out on his own, you fear in silence, and he definitely will.

He doesn’t respond after you, but you can tell that he wants to say something. The way he shifts his weight back and forth between his legs gives his intentions away.

You drag the words out by landing on him a quizzical look.

“Mika told me it was his fault the dishes broke,” he splutters, and chuckles even though there’s nothing in that sentence that could have been funny. His fingers scratch the back of his head as he quests for words. “It just surprises me that you’re taking the blame for him.”

He holds back the natural urge to flinch when you swirl your head around to meet his eyes. Not only is it unexpected to find out that he knows, it also astounds you to realize you were subconsciously backing up Mikaela again.

You can’t explain why you keep doing it. You don’t owe the guy anything.

“I didn’t think you would know,” you say through a sigh. “Then again, he probably tells you everything since you’re brothers and stuff.”

There’s a degree of bitterness that alters the state of your voice and behavior whenever you’re near Yuichiro. You know it raises questions among the group, but no one ever bothers to inquire.

He looks disturbed as you study him in silence. You’re aware of the nervousness you cause.

In a sense, you want him to realize that you’re bitter even though you know he hasn’t done you any wrong.

Yuichiro was Guren’s favorite student the way you see it. The star boy who received all of the attention just because his lousy personality demanded it. And as it turns out, he now has demon powers as well.

You like to think you were Guren’s best student prior to Yuichiro’s arrival.

No, that’s not it. There’s a difference between being the best and the favorite, and Yuchiro just happened to be the latter. It didn't matter that you were the one that had stuck to Guren’s side through it all, following his every command in hopes of proving yourself to him, while Yuichiro gained fame around the army for disobeying orders.

You hate that the boy is so intent on rescuing him from the Hiragii’s despite his betrayal. It somehow proves that their bond has always been stronger than what you tried to build with him. Yuichiro is daring enough to call him his family, while you have never been able to treat him as anything more than someone you deeply admired.

Your hand clutches the glass as you finish your third round of water, and Yuichiro flinches when you unintentionally slam it on the counter.

He opens his mouth when you sneak a sideway glance in his direction. “Thank you for doing that,” he says, trying to ease the mood with a smile. “I know that Mika can be a real pain in the ass.”

You groan. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

The sound of his chuckle is genuine, and the corners of your lips pull up a bit. 

“I found it strange that Mika hadn’t asked me for blood,” he elaborates. “And it clicked when I saw your bandaged wrist.”

“Actually, I-” you start off, body twisting to face him. But nothing believable comes to mind and you make a sound with your tongue. It’s a given he already knows, either way. “I did it as a last resort, okay? That guy is as stubborn as a mule.”

Yuchiro laughs. You can tell that any topic involving Mikaela automatically brightens his spirit.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

You don’t mind the relaxed interaction, but it seems like he’s decided on his own that everything will be rainbows and unicorns between you both after this talk.

There’s a broad grin on his face as he takes his thumb to his chest. “Don’t hesitate to ask us for anything if you ever need it,” he says. The quality of his voice isn’t wavering anymore. “That’s what family is for, right?”

You don’t appreciate the volume. No doubt everyone in the house knows what is up thanks to his lousy nature.

“Family, huh?” Your eyes scrutinize the glass in your hand, finding it easier to avoid the sight of his grin. “That word is overrated if you ask me.”

Chapter Text

Your lips tear with a groan as you flip the windshield wipers on. Grogginess has already impaired your eyes enough and the last thing you need is a crowd of leaves blocking your view of the road.

Shinoa’s comment regarding your rough behavior is disregarded. No way in hell will you treat anything with the kindness that the world has yet to give you. As your roommate, she knows you have been damned with a streak of sleepless nights this week, yet she went ahead and appointed you as the driver for this little excursion.

It would seem everyone is blindly certain you won’t doze off and accidentally kill everyone on board when the car runs off a bridge. 

You kind of wish for that to happen, just to prove a point. But the military has trained you on minimal hours of sleep since a young age and this is second nature by now, disturbingly so. 

As if reading your thoughts, Shinoa twists her head to look at you with a careless smile on her face. “Please, don’t be mad at me. Out of Mitsuba and I, you are the safest choice.” 

The blond girl dips her head in between the seats. “Finally, you admit how much you suck at driving,” she tells Shinoa. 

“I meant nothing of the sort.” She flips her purple ponytail out of the way, purposely slapping Mitsuba’s face, who growls at her. “It’s just that this van is so old and the seats aren’t adjustable for my petite form. Being cute is such a hassle, for real.”

Her sassiness isn’t affected by the uninterested hums she receives for an answer. 

“Makoto could be driving perfectly in my stead,” you grunt. “Remind me again why it was a good idea that only we come?” 

“Because picking clothes is a task meant for us girls, duh,” answers Shinoa, ever so enthusiastic about her decision-making. “Imagine Yuu bringing home a pair of joggers or an old sweater just because it was the first thing he found. I could never wear that.” 

It’s not like your personal image means absolute shit to you, and it’s true that men usually suck at picking out clothes, but your tiredness is of such extent that Shinoa’s reasoning appalls you. 

You cling to the steering wheel and keep your stare ahead. Your essence seems undisturbed and only the light twitching of your upper lip gives you away.

Both girls know better than to emit unnecessary comments. They sink back on their seats and choose to focus on the road as well, going through the trouble of keeping watch, which is what you had asked them to do at the start of the journey.  

After that last interaction, the ride continues in peace save for the low growls you breathe out whenever more leaves land on the window. 

There are still a couple of weeks left before the seasonal change, but with the heat that still pools everywhere, the thought of a sweater is far off from your head. 

Even so, Shinoa insisted on being a step ahead of the fall season, her reasoning being that resources aren’t guaranteed to be found at the right timing. The hunt for basic necessities is hard and brutal in a world that lays in ruins after the apocalyptic strike in 2012.

Such is a normal life nowadays. Everyone is always on their toes and the need to grab whatever’s available is almost instinctual. A synonym of survival.

You’re already risking a lot by heading into the city. Three people won’t be enough to seclude an entire mall from possible intruders. Kimizuki advised that you stick to the stores nearest to the entrance in case of an emergency retreat, which is what you’re intending to do regardless of the ‘fashion’ Shinoa keeps on insisting. 

After having parked the car just outside of the mall, Shinoa begrudgingly agrees to watch over the van while you and Mitsuba head inside to scout for proper clothes. You both had a hunch she would have delayed the search in thought of minimalistic details like combinations and colors. 

Sometimes, you envy that Shinoa keeps the natural whims of a woman despite witnessing the world collapse around her. At this point, you can only care about surviving, which doesn’t even come close to truly living.

Luck seems to be on your side today, as it happens that there are three boutiques next to the entrance doors, of which only one appears to have been raided. You shove a cart in between the two stores and head off to the first one while Mitsuba takes charge of the other.

In the span of half an hour, the cart is filled piece by piece, round after round of walking to and from the boutique, until it’s stocked with clothes to the brim.

You are still inside the store when Mitsuba’s calls fall on deaf ears, a sweater having caught your attention. You hold it from the hanger and twist it around for a thorough check. 

Just because you care less about fashion doesn’t mean your womanly tastes are nonexistent. The brown color would compliment Mikaela’s light hair and pale skin rather nicely, you can’t help but notice. His personality matches the simplicity of the design in the sense that it looks elegant without being too flashy.

You can’t resist the urge of rubbing it against your cheek. The cotton feels soft and warm on your skin. The intense heat you were complaining about just a while ago is no longer relevant. 

It is the echo of Karlodan’s laugh what shakes you awake. Suddenly, your thoughts don’t feel so normal anymore. 

You consider leaving it, but end up throwing it into the pile anyway. It’s not like the rest of the boys will be banned from wearing it. The sweater is still useful. 

This must a result of Karlodan’s doing. He purposely messed with your head to confuse and weaken your state of mind. 

But, oh, you will be prepared next time he tries it. 

“What took you so long?” grumbles Mitsuba as she pushes the cart out of the mall. 

“I’m tired. What else did you expect?”

The ride back to base is a complete pain in the ass to your ears. Shinoa has you bearing with her endless spurs of complaints about the garments not meeting any of her ridiculous standards. 

“Why did I even bother bringing you if the results were going to be bad,” she wails.

Your patience wears out when a shirt accidentally lands on your head. You figure Shinoa must have tossed it, as revealed by her nervous gasp. Without taking your eyes from the front, you mutter, “Shove a sock into her mouth, Mitsuba.” 

“On it.” 

The threat doesn’t stop her from sighing every five minutes throughout the rest of the journey.

[...]

You realize less than a week later, however, that Shinoa’s insistence didn’t backfire on her, because from nightfall to sunrise, fall season kicked summer out of the way with wild air currents. 

All high and mighty, the wind smacks your face with dry leaves and ruins the soup you’re trying to cook every time one lands inside the pot to replace the other you took off. 

You swing the spoon skyward and snarl, “Fuck you, fall! I was happier with insolation.”

Right then, a leaf flies into your mouth, as if telling you to shut up in the most impolite of ways. 

Fall season has never been more alive. 

What could have been an embarrassing temper tantrum in the middle of the yard doesn’t come to be thanks to the jacket that is thrown on your head, though you aren’t any less angry about the method used to pass it down.

You take it off and swirl around, prepared to toss it back be it not for the red eyes of Mikaela staring back at you. Their calm essence pin you down, magically taming the untamable. 

You can’t understand how messier hair looks good on him. It’s evident he never bothers to brush it down. Perhaps he knows it’s a good style for him. 

“You shouldn’t be out in those light clothes.” He’s already heading back to the porch before you can emit a response. 

He came out only for this. Was he concerned about you? That may be taking it to the extreme. 

Regardless, you have to hide the heat of your cheeks behind an act of confidence to say, “Nice sweater.” 

He doesn’t let the surprise stop him from walking away, since there’s no way you could have known this particular top drew him in for one reason. 

After all, only someone with his heightened sense of smell could tell that it had your scent the strongest.

Chapter Text

“Yup,” you say, “Looks like a leak.”

Kimizuki hits his forehead with the palm of his hand. You don’t appreciate that he doesn’t help you up on your feet, but you keep the remarks to yourself merely because an argument wouldn’t benefit the situation. The chances of surviving on dangerous territory rise with solid teamwork.

The van couldn’t have chosen a worse time and place to start malfunctioning. 

You dust off your clothes as Kimizuki cusses under his breath and rounds the vehicle. Yuichiro and Mikaela stand on the other side. Their short exchange of dialogue is pinned to a close when Kimizuki stops in front of them, you tailing from behind.

“We only have enough gas to make it to the city. Heading back to the house would mean risking we get stranded midway.” He leans on the van and nonchalantly knocks on the door. “I can maybe fix it— “

“Ever the multitasker,” you cut in.

“—but the tools are at the house,” he continues while throwing an annoyed glance at you. It wears off in the next second when he looks back at the pair. “We’re already here, though, and we still need that generator. I don’t think it’s beneficial for us to go another day without electricity, so I was thinking we should split up.”

Even though you are attentive to Kimizuki’s plan, you catch on to the frown of disapproval on Mikaela’s face when he shakes his head. This doesn’t seem to hold Kimizuki back, however.

“We split into teams of two.” He says your name. “–knows the city best. She will head there with Mikaela and look for a generator.”

Mikaela looks ready to interfere, but Kimizuki isn’t giving him the chance. The frown above his couple of narrowed, red eyes offends you a bit, though it’s not like you didn’t know of his attachment to Yuichiro prior to all of this.  

“The knuckle-head and I will wait for the team to come pick us up. We get the tools, then drive to the city on the convertible and fix the van. That way, we kill two birds with one stone.”

You didn’t think a time would come in which the extra vehicle would come in useful —it has been, for the most part, an extra load of baggage to drag around and maintain— but Kimizuki has once again proven you wrong. For a moment, you had almost believed he had an obsession for fancy cars.

Yuichiro crosses his arms and nods. “I agree with everything except the knuckle-head part.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, displaying indifference as you lean on the van beside the pink-head. “Cooking without kitchen appliances has been a pain in the ass.”

He nods and drags out a flare pistol from his back pocket. Once again, proving to you that one can never be too meticulous.

“Then, it’s settled.” He aims the pistol skyward and pulls the trigger. Yoichi should be able to see the red flame from the position Kimizuki left him at in case of an emergency.

“I’m not on board with this,” Mikaela steps in. His tone is sharp, almost demanding, and his glare could pierce through glass. “You lessen the odds of survival by halving the team.”

You hum. “I guess you have a point.”

“You sure it’s not just because of Yuichiro?” Kimizuki accuses, raising a skeptical brow when Mikaela growls under his breath.

“It’s not even guaranteed whether we will find a generator or not.”

“Not a single second of our lives is guaranteed. Should we stay home and mope to our pillows instead?”

You always accuse glasses-boy of being a perpetual asshole of the finest caliber, but there is a noticeable contrast between the way he addresses you or Yuichiro and the way he talks to Mikaela.

Not that you were any different a week ago, but then again, your ties with the whole team are practically nonexistent. Whereas, they have been together for longer and they run under the annoying concept of ‘your family is my family’. You would have expected that he would fare, or at least put up with Mikaela as per request of Yuichiro.

Maybe he is a perpetual asshole of the finest caliber, after all.

Who’s to say you aren’t? You are not particularly fond of this group. Their unity and strength is all you seek to get by. You unreasonably hate Yuichiro’s guts and are planning to scram the hell out once you deem them disposable.

However, out of everyone, Mikaela has made you care to some extent, and you figure it’s the reason why you’re suddenly running your mouth in his defense, which is what you’ve been doing more than just once on an impulse. 

“I could head back with you, Shit-zuki, while those two search for the generator.”

He seems annoyed when he snaps his head in your direction. Whether it’s because of the nickname or because you are siding with the vampire, you don’t know. “Yuichiro knows jack shit about the city. You, on the other hand, were raised there.”

“In the outskirts, mind you.”

He clicks his tongue and looks away, muttering all the while, “Same thing.”

Mikaela almost steps on Kimizuki’s toes. Somehow, the red color in his eyes looks a shade of darker crimson as he lays his anger and frustrations out on display. “I know my way around the city just fine.” Whatever his intentions, Yuichiro stops him by tugging back his arm.

“Come on, Mika. Don’t be like that,” he pleads like a child, but the thick tension doesn’t leave any room for his protests to be heard.

Kimizuki’s icy stare glowers at Mikaela behind the reflection of his glasses. Your eyes follow the finger that pushes them up the bridge of his nose, and then you flick them over to Mikaela, who seems tempted to hiss his pointy fangs out.

“To be honest.” Kimizuki’s voice is breathy, feigning nonchalance even though everyone knows there is a not-so-hidden essence of vile present. He dips his head further down despite having no need for that, a sign that he is basking in the glory of his taller height. “I don’t want you to go together because I find you capable of knocking Yuichiro out and running off with him.”

You flip your eyes back and forth between the two adversaries. The nervous laugh that Yuichiro pulls seems faint compared to the hefty silence that has gathered between them.

As you notice that Mikaela leans just a bit and Kimizuki’s hand flies to his weapons, you ram in between them. “Okay, I’ve had enough of you two trying to play it cool.” Your pitch is high and playful as you hold Kimizuki down and drill your knuckles on his pink hair. “What happened to all that ‘friends’ and ‘family’ crap you guys recite like it’s the national anthem? Let’s just move past this and go ahead with the plan. With all the time we’ve wasted, I’m sure the team is well on their way here, which means you’ll come pick us up sooner rather than later.”

He jerks back from the pinning hold of your arms and raises his fist in the air.

You curve a sinister smile as Yuichiro jumps in to pat your shoulder, ever so oblivious.

“She’s right! Family is family, no matter the differences in our perspectives.”

“Stop touching me.”

Kimizuki is still patting down his hair when you usher Mikaela to the vehicle. You climb to the driver’s seat, taking away his chance of protesting, and throw your elbow out the window to look at the two men who are staying behind.

“Do we leave now, or do you want us to wait?”

Kimizuki swings his hand dismissively. “Just get going, already.”

Anyone would think that you have condemned Yuichiro to hell if they saw Mikaela’s blue face. He doesn’t rip his eyes away from him until you purposely pressure him forward by starting the engine. He begrudgingly hops in and you hit the gas before he can even think of escaping through the window, because you find him capable of trying. 

You steal a look every now and then, and find him sulking on his seat every time. You would probably roll your eyes had it been anyone else, but the childish look fits him surprisingly well.

It’s oddly cute.

“I tried,” you murmur.

He doesn’t make any effort to acknowledge you for a while, but he comes through eventually.

“It’s not your fault.” His voice is muffled by the palm of his hand, which he keeps on his chin. He has yet to look away from the window.

“Why are you so wary about Shit-zuki, anyway?”

“It’s not him, per se. It’s your entire kind.”

You raise a brow at him. “As in, humans?” When he hums, you click your tongue and look back at the road. “Big words for someone who was born a human.”

“They are using him,” he snarls, not particularly at you, but at some thought perturbing his peace.

You don’t take it personally either way, since you barely understand what he’s talking about.

“Who?”

“His so-called family.”

Ah, the team. He’s speaking like you weren't included in it. 

“Don’t mind me, just third wheeling over here.” You finally feel the weight of his stare and lay down the act. “I’m kidding. I could care less about all that family business you guys meddle with, but how come you’re excluding me of the deed? Am I as innocent as I look?”

He rakes his stare across your figure. The act makes you uncomfortable, but you steal a glance at him even so, wordlessly questioning him with a raised brow.

“I don’t know,” he answers while pressing his back on the seat. You would like to think that he has relaxed a bit. “Maybe because you seem to have no interest in Yuu.”

You huff. “Ain’t that the truth.”

He doesn’t seem to take any offence in that. If anything, it makes him less wary of you. He realized a while ago that you aren’t fond of those people, not to the point of hating them, but neither enough to interact unless it’s required.

He throws a side glance at you. “Don’t take this the wrong way. But why are you with us?”

“You know how ants have managed to outlast millions of species because they live in colonies? Pretty much my logic. My whole squad is gone, so I’m stuck with you guys for the time being.”

He doesn’t follow with any comment and the rest of the ride continues in silence.

You have already come to the city various times to scout for resources, but the same feeling of melancholy squeezes your chest every time you drive in. Despite having preferred the peace of the countryside over the overwhelming noise of traffic as a toddler, you have come to miss the commotion inside a city that used to be alive.

It’s true when they say the value of something increases once it’s lost.

Mikaela becomes wary of the turns you are taking, and jerks his thin brow at you. “Isn’t the mall located on the other side?” he queries.  

“Last time I went there, almost everything was empty.” You try to keep your voice neutral despite the tone of skepticism that you don’t appreciate receiving from him. “I know a small store of electro domestics that’s tucked in between two buildings. We’ll have better chances there.” 

Your hopes are high when you park the car in front of the store. Save for the shattered windows, nothing looks out of the ordinary. It seems only a handful of people have come to take what they need.

You hop out of the car with Mikaela in tow and stop to give the place a thorough scan. “We didn’t run out of gas and the store looks decently stocked.” You flick your eyes to Mikaela for a brief moment before heading inside. “Looks like we’ll be having a good day today.” 

The place is short in width, but its length stretches out to the back and there are a decent number of aisles to cover.

You agree to part ways to make the search faster. Mikaela goes off to the back while you stay near the entrance, alternating between crouching down to look under the shelves and pressing on the balls of your feet to scan the upper rows. You also check the sections containing other appliances, because Kimizuki lesson number one: ‘better to be safe than sorry.’

It’s silent except for the occasional clank whenever you or Mikaela pick something up or move it around.

“Oh, my God!” Your voice echoes off into the deep end of the store, and Mikaela scurries to your side in a second, looking hectic.

“What’s wrong?” His words are somewhat breathy, and he blinks incredulously when you spin around with a blender. The enthusiasm that gushes from your wide grin catches him by surprise.

“There’s this vegetable soup I wanted to make the other day. I was worried the food would go to waste, but now we’ve got this amazon princess with us,” you coo the last words and rub your cheek against the cold steel. 

Only the long silence wakes you out your ecstasy like a cold slap on the face. Your eyes snap open and you stumble until your back hits the shelf. “Uh, no. I—I mean, I uh, ugh! Damn you, Shit-suki!” You didn’t think his maid habits would be this contagious.

You are prepared to receive a cold glare for having wasted his time, but you find none of that in his soft eyes. A twinkle of amusement makes their red color swirl to life, like a sea that’s moving in his irises. He no longer looks like he is thinking of Yuichiro ‘this’ and ‘that’. His attention is solely on you.

It’s a pleasant form of acknowledgement.

Your cheeks flare out of their natural color when he spreads his hand on your head. His fingers press delicately on your scalp and he awkwardly ruffles your hair, but unlike most guys who tend to do it carelessly, his movements are delicate, like he doesn’t want to mess up your hairstyle.

“You’re weird,” he says. The sound dangles between neutrality and a chuckle, but a wave of tenderness soaks every word like sweet honey.

He takes the blender from your hands before you can attempt to hide your face. The soft movement could have made you think it just popped out of existence on its own.

“We’ll take it back with us, then,” he says while heading out, his tone still soft and caring.

The blood that rushes to your ears makes you uncomfortable and you slap your cheeks a few times to get rid of it.

Your pitch goes out of tune. “Oh, right! The generator. Silly me.”

You scurry away from the light of day and to the back of the store. You may be able to hide from Mikaela, but the same cannot be said about Karkodan. Your thoughts are practically one and the same.

Five minutes later, you find two generators inside the storage room, both in excellent state. Kimizuki was mentally prepared to spend an all-nighter in case repairs were to be needed, but dusting them off will be as far as maintenance goes for the looks of it. At this pace, you may have electricity before the end of dawn.

You load them in the trunk together with Mikaela and hop straight into the front seats for a break. The rest is up to Kimizuki and the others, who should be arriving soon with the tools to fix the van.

The mission has been going smoothly so far. You ease into the seat and heave a breath.

Unlike you, Mikaela looks on edge and you can tell that his senses are on high alert. He stares down at nothing in particular, looking dubious, his ears perked, yet it seems like he’s trying to play it casual to avoid worrying you unnecessarily. 

You sit up properly and breathe out a whisper. “Is something up?” You know his senses are far more developed than yours. The peace and quiet that you perceive may only reach a few miles, and only Mikaela can know what is happening beyond that distance. “What’s up? Is it them?”

“I’m not sure,” he whispers back. “I hear a lot of steps.”

You are dressed in a demeanour of serenity, but the noisy flip of your heart discredits the act. “As in, an entire army?”

His red stare flips back and forth between your eyes for a long moment, like he’s trying to find comfort in your presence while he continues to listen after the sound.

“It’s possible,” he finally says.

You expect him to utter a warning or command, but he reaches after your hand and surprises you when his fingers grasp yours tightly. It feels weirdly intimate. You have never held a guy’s hand this way.

He throws the door open and half of his name dies on your tongue when he flings you out of the vehicle with him.

An arm slips below your knees while the other skims to the back of your head. The inhuman speed of his actions make you dizzy. For a moment, you don’t know where you are anymore.

A thunderous explosion blasts on your ears and he instinctively presses you to his chest with an essence of protectiveness. The heat would have inflicted serious burns on your skin, but Mikaela’s back is exposed to the high temperature in your stead.

His clothes have been ripped open from behind and his skin is red because of the inflammation. If he wasn't a vampire, the injury would be a greater cause for concern. 

The flames feed off the vehicle. They match the size of the building and threaten to burn your face. 

Mikaela swirls around to study what was clearly a purposeful attack. Meanwhile, you can’t help but think that you wouldn’t have made it out alive had the tank been anymore filled with gasoline.

Actually, you wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for Mikaela’s enhanced senses and speed. Your brain is still trying to wire itself as he sets you down on the roof of the store. The amount of actions that went on in a single second were too much for your normal, human body to handle.

You are surprised to hear your name from across the building. The voice seems familiar, but there is a layer of madness and degeneracy that makes each vowel sound foreign to your ears.

“It’s been a while, lassie,” he greets, and the shudder that his words induce double over when you force yourself look ahead.

On the roof of the building that’s parallel to yours, a pair of red eyes flash with malice above a wicked smile. His hair is tousled back. The sword that hangs from his gloved hand glimmers with dark matter. 

But behind the intimidating stance and the characteristics that make him so different, you can still see a version of Guren Ichinose trying to break free from the demon’s control.

“What are you doing here?” Stepping over your words, a gust of wind blasts your hair out of place, and you are only able to flip your head in time to watch Mikaela get knocked off the roof. You step around and scream his name, but the end of Guren’s blade swings below your chin and forces you to freeze.

Your pupils flick sideways, aiming a glare that easily succumbs to the intimidating crimson of his eyes. Even though they are of a similar color to Mikaela’s, the emotions that both looks invoke are polar opposites.

You fear the worse about his intentions. Maybe he plans to capture you, take your weapon, kill you with the excuse of treason. Perhaps he wants you to join his side. The insane level of power he possesses may not give you the chance to refute.

“Tell me where Yuichiro is,” he commands.

Your lids flip wide open. Your chin touches the cold blade when your mouth falls agape. A painful and asphyxiating sensation rises with the punches that your heart inflicts on your chest, but nothing beats the disappointment that comes from having your expectations crushed by the man you once admired.

Even so, you force a grin on your face. “It’s always about Yuichiro, huh?” The indifference that dresses your voice sounds breathy and unnatural.

“Some soldiers are more valuable than others.” His arm drops and you cautiously step back. He knows that you can’t escape. Your abilities don’t come close to his. “I could have given you an ounce of my attention had you been worthy of a Black Demon Series.”

Your fingers twitch and curl inwards with enough force to sink your nails into the skin. Guren knows the effect that taunts have on your concentration. It’s a habit he has been trying to break for years and now he’s intending to use it against you.

All the more reason to not let his words deter you.

You hunt within the crevices of your mind for an asshole of beady eyes and a split tongue. You drag out your weapon into view and let it hang loosely to your side.

Hear that, Karkodan? He thinks you’re a joke.

Yeah, let’s kill this guy.

Your war fan grows in size with the flick of your hand, showing off a design that matches the patterns on Karkodan’s scales. Despite surpassing your height, the weapon feels weightless in your hand.

Guren raises half a smirk, ‘what an idiot’ written on his face.

You don’t expect to win against a man that has been taken over by a demon. Guren has chosen the coward’s way out the way you see it. For now, escaping alive is the best you can hope for.

The clash of steel stings your ears, marking the start of the battle. Guren steals the lead by rattling his sword against your weapon with a swift set of movements that demolish you in terms of speed. It isn’t enough to inflict a scratch on Karkodan, but the exerted force is pushing you back towards the end of the roof.

Dare you switch to offence, and Guren’s blows will surely find an opening to strike you down. For now, and against Karkodan’s wishes, you stick to defense.  

Guren’s smirk has been wiped by boredom. His brow is raised at you, expressing dry disappointment. “I expected more from you. Not only have your skills gone out of shape, you were also dumb enough to shoot a lousy flare on open field.” His eyes narrow with amusement as you fail to hold in a gasp. “I know I taught you better.”

You dragged Shinoa’s team here because it’s a region far from the Imperial Demon Army’s military base, brushed off by the Hiragi’s for having no activity of importance after the apocalyptic break-out. It was a win-win situation. The group had the tranquility to devise a strategy while you got the chance to satiate your pang of homesickness.

You never expected that Guren would go through the trouble of traveling to this abandoned sector, but now you realize that you should have known better. Your personal folder is at his office. He knows where you are from and must have guessed that you would take the others along.

Damn it, you snarl in your head, we were careless.

He takes advantage of your internal crisis and kicks Karkodan out of your hand. The fan shrinks back to its regular size while swirling on air and disappears below the roof.

You cuss under your breath and drop to the floor, missing the swing of his blade by a hair.

Regardless of the hatred you claim to possess for him, realizing that he is serious about killing you feels like a stab to the back.

You roll over and fall after your weapon. Your hands clutch to the edge of the building and you jump off on the window frame below your feet. Climbing down is no easy task and Karkodan’s barking only helps in stressing you further. 

You feel like your palms could be lit aflame as you slide down a tube that stretches down to solid ground. You crouch down without sacrificing speed and snatch your weapon from the floor mid run. Right away, you feel his temper digging illusionary holes in your hand. Then again, it could be the leftover sting confusing you.

If you drop me again, he threatens, I will kick your ass so hard you will go back up your dead mother’s womb.

He is angry, alright, but you don’t have the luxury of caring or emitting a smooth comeback like you usually do. Your head swings around frantically after Guren, but he’s nowhere in sight.

In less than a minute, his entrance comes rather unexpected.

You stop just in time to avoid falling into the crate that Guren’s landing causes on the street before you. The currents of wind that rise threaten to push you back, so you have to press your feet on the ground to stay in place.

This sudden rush of power bewilders you. He has always been strong, but not the type to inflict destruction with the touch of a finger. The Guren you see right now could split your spine in half and it wouldn’t make him flinch.

“Karkodan,” you call.

Yeah, yeah, I know.

A rush of wind comes to life after you swing the fan. It pushes a car off of the ground and tosses it at Guren, who raises his weapon without budging from his position. The convertible splits in half around him and hits the street like deadweight.

Acting out didn’t drain him of any energy, but it was the necessary time your legs required to carry you out of the scene before he could notice.

That was fucking lame, belittles Karkodan. You can’t believe he is in the mood to pester you at a time like this.

“Can you shut up for just a minute?” you growl a whisper. “That guy is unbeatable right now. His demon has swallowed him whole.”

You don’t feel pity. Guren knew what was at stake when he submitted to the powers of his demon, all for selfish reasons that stand beyond your understanding.

He’s an asshole however you look at it. Pity is what he least deserves at this moment and he probably wouldn’t even accept it were you to offer it.

With your back pressed to the wall of an alleyway, you lean out to glance at the street.

It’s empty. Much too quiet, actually. No doubt will he attack as soon as you shove a leg out into the light.

In that same moment, you swirl around with the ring of Karkodan’s warning in your head and topple down just in time to see Guren’s blade fly above your head.

Droplets of blood spill on your shirt and face when he draws out his sword. 

You react quickly to the sight of Mikaela losing his footing. His weight pushes you back a couple of steps and the blood on his back oozes to your shirt.

There’s no time to wail out his name or lecture him for doing something so stupid.

You call Karkodan instead. The spirit of a serpent materializes behind Guren and charges straight at him. It’s a strategy he will have no problem overcoming, but creating enough time to flee is what you’re truly after.

Mikaela’s immobility doesn’t make it easier. You continue to bear with half of his weight while stumbling helplessly across the streets.

Eventually, your legs give out and you are forced to hold in a hiss when a window cracks behind your back. Mikaela falls on his knees and you crouch down after him to check the damage.

Black magic eats away the skin, making the hole on his chest bigger by the second. That is the work only a first-rate curse gear can accomplish. A vampire’s healing abilities are useless against the powers of an activated Black Demon Series. If the curse reaches Mikaela’s organs, he will soon die.

It’s like your heart drops down to the pit of your stomach with a single swallow. You watch the crease pulling his brows together and listen to the breathy pants that escape his system, and your grip on his shoulder automatically tightens. He hasn’t even said a word since his appearance.

His eyes struggle to stay open. Guren’s first blow must have already left him weakened, yet he still went out of his way to take another attack in your stead.

You have witnessed numerous vampires meet their end this way, but never before have you taken the time to see the amount of pain it causes. Blood keeps dripping from the wound and, as a human, you don’t know what in hell to do for him.

The thought of his death drops over you like a bucket of cold water. You gather your composure back into place and look around for ideas until you spot the manhole cover that is near your feet.

Guren is coming closer. He drags his feet onward like this whole battle hasn’t been worth his time. There’s not a scratch on his face or a single hair out of place. Meanwhile, you and Mikaela are barely holding on to life.

He truly has become a monster.

“I don’t have time for games, lassie. Tell me where Yuichiro is.” His words are dressed under a honeyed elongation that only makes him sound more terrorizing, but you ignore the chill that it induces and head over to the street.

The fan sizes up with a sharp flick. You gather momentum for the next attack and swing it skyward, crying, “Up your mother’s ass!”

The wind that Karkodan’s power gushes out cuts through the bar of a billboard.

Guren’s indifference doesn’t waver as his attention goes up. His free hand causally rests on his waist, showing how poorly he views your strength. “I can see you’re still holding on to that crude mouth of yours.” He speeds away to gather safe distance, moments before the billboard cracks into pieces on the street, raising the dust and debris you sought after from the start.

You run back to Mikaela’s side and lift the manhole cover. He catches the meaning behind your nod and limps through his pain as per your request. His vampire abilities still give him enough mobility to jump in without the help of the ladder you have no choice but you use.

You enter the hole and push the lid down. Your patience is thin as you descend the steps, which eventually has you jumping off without calculating the distance.

A jolt of electricity sparks from your feet and shakes you awake with pain, but you swallow down the urge to yell and run after your companion instead.

The floor is dry for the most part and the smell isn’t pronounced due to misuse, making this situation more bearable if looked upon from a brighter perspective. It’s your best way of coping given the circumstances.

Mikaela is down on his knees again, clutching his heart as though he was trying to keep it from ripping through his skin. He is shuddering whole. His arm is deadweight around your shoulders.

“Please, Mikaela. You have to stay awake for me.” Your voice echoes across the tunnel. You try to keep it low and composed despite having every limb in your body shaking with dread and fatigue. “We can’t stay here. It’s not safe.”

If every step feels like torture, you can’t imagine how Mikaela must be faring. The wound is growing deeper by the second, you notice after a peek at it. 

Though his weight pushes you down, you grit your teeth and continue to support him through the journey. The chase will end in Guren’s favor if you stay by the entrance. You don’t know where the tunnels lead to, but getting lost in the maze is the best you can opt for.

It isn’t long before Mikaela’s footing gives out and he collapses, dragging you down with him. The overwhelming pain keeps him from heeding your calls. His fingers rake the dirt and close into fists, no doubt ruining the state of his nails.

Anxiety reaches its peak and you dip down to search for his red eyes, wanting reassurance, hope, anything, but he can’t even sustain the weight of his own head, let alone open his lids.

In that moment, the echo of multiple steps impale your ears like shards, and the dread crushes your chest tighter than ever before.

Out of desperation, you cling to his neck and beg, “Please, Mikaela, please. Stand up, please.” Your pitch barely surpasses a whisper, but you trust his heightened senses to catch it.

His legs quiver as he tries to stand, but his balance betrays him and he splatters completely on the floor. He is no longer responsive to your calls. The dread makes your skin shudder from head to toe.

You flop him around for a quick check. There is no use in scouting for a heartbeat that was never there to begin with, but you don’t know how else to tell if he’s still alive.

You grab his shoulders and shake him violently, too desperate to care about his pain. You only want a reaction, something that will let you know he is still with you.

The sudden appearance of a white beam nearly makes you choke on your spit. It glows from the far end of the tunnel, where the sound of steps and voices mix together. It seems Guren has brought along a team of soldiers to ease up the search, and the white gleams come from the flashlights they carry.

Forcing down what is left of your strength to the balls of your hands, you grab Mikaela from the shoulders and drag him behind a pile of rubble. When the voices double in volume, you throw yourself over him and link your arms around his neck to bring him closer.

Rather than taking on the role of a protector, you seek for comfort and security out of clinging to him like your life depended on it.

You can’t escape. There’s no power left in you that could offer Mikaela safety. If Guren finds you, it’s over. Mikaela will die and—who knows what he will do to you? Killing sounds like something this new Guren does without thinking it over.

The white beam of the flashlight flutters above your heads. You shut your eyes and dip your head on his shoulder. Your hold on his neck is potent enough to choke him, but you have lost sense of your own mobility by now.

They wander around and eventually flick away to an adjacent tunnel. The pile of rubble has saved yours and Mikaela’s lives by the skin of your teeth.

It’s dark once again and only your hefty breaths slice through the deep silence like sharp butter knives. Mikaela is still and quiet, but you stubbornly wait for a response after calling his name.

The hand that spreads on your back stops your urge to scream. The relief you feel is overwhelming. All of the air that was unconsciously tucked inside your lungs is finally released and your whole body deflates with a rush of tiredness. Your arms finally fall loose around his neck, but you freeze on the spot as his warm breaths brush your ear.

Your name is a pained whisper.

He brings his other hand to your back and presses you closer, almost longingly. “I-I need…” he trails off, but you understand what has to be done.

“Take it. Take what you need.” You squeeze him once to express reassurance. “Hell, suck me until I’m almost dry. I don’t give a damn. Drink, now.”

His mouth seals on your neck. You feel the sharp edges of his fangs drill past the layer of skin like thick needles. His tongue then perches on the wound, soothing your pain.

The sting is less tolerable there than on your wrist, but you recognize that the circumstances were different back then. Desperation must be acting up over his sanity. He isn’t lapping the blood out of you to solely quench his thirst, he is doing it to preserve his life.

You can’t hold in a whine this time around, but the brush of his fingers on your back help you relax. The gesture makes you think that perhaps his other hand isn’t cradling the back of your head just to hold you in place. He appears to be conscious of what he is doing to some degree.

It isn’t long before your body shuts down on you.

Whether he stops in time or sucks you dry, will be entirely up to the size of his willpower.

Chapter Text

You feel absolute anger. You are pissed and at the same time hurt. There are a lot of emotions poisoning your body, twisting and compressing every vein and nerve as you aim your stare at the blue sky. 

Contrary to what's threatening to blast inside of you, your eyes seem calm, and there isn’t a single crease on your forehead that could express your irritation. 

Fake it until you make it, or so they say. 

By no means do you like going about things with that type of thinking, but the school where you study has strict regulations that forbid breaking the skull of your fellow classmates, and you can’t afford a suspension. Despite lacking a parental figure that could kick your ass for it, you’re responsible enough to acknowledge that it wouldn’t contribute to your future in a positive light.

The apocalypse forced you to mature at eight years old, after all. 

“You’re planning to sit around all day with the smell of juice on your head?”

You twist your head to land a pair of wary eyes on the one who emitted the remark.

His long sword is the first object your eyes are instinctively drawn to. It is sheathed by his waist with no intention of being used, but its essence is undeniably spooky. 

Surprisingly, when you rake your eyes past his military uniform and to his face, his purple eyes emanate a different light as they study you. At first glance, one would say that they appear guarded and tactless above the straight line his lips form, constructing a look that couldn’t give less of a shit about you. 

But he’s standing right before you. A military General, or something amongst those terms based on the medals clinging to his clothes, is taking time away from his possibly tight schedule to check on you, and he is yet to leave even though you are showing no signs of answering.

He cocks a brow. It’s the only change that gives his face some form of expression. “Are you mute or something? You can’t just sit around doing nothing and expect that they won’t act again.”

You drive your head away and pout. The idea of some stranger lecturing you doesn’t sit well with you. “Why should I give them attention when that’s what they want? Bullies are cowards hiding behind the facade of a spoiled child. They are probably the loneliest kids in school.” 

You hear an amused chuckle. His face is twisted with that same emotion when you dare to look at him again. “It seems they are not the only ones trying to hide behind a facade,” he assumes like he’s in any position to comment. 

You have barely met this guy. How is it that he gets to dictate how you feel?

“Piss off, will you?” Your intended hiss turns out to be a weak murmur instead, as you drop your chin onto your folded arms. “Are you playing as the school’s psychologist or something?”

He looks off into the distance, as if searching for something or someone. “Actually, I came here to check up on a kid that’s just as lonely and miserable as you are.”

You fling your head up. Your face is scrunched into a deep scowl. “Huh?” This time, you do manage a stronger snarl. “Are you here to comfort me or bring me down? Which one is it?” You don’t even beat around the bush anymore. You are sure that is the reason why he’s still beside you.

His eyes close, and a layer of protection comes once he opens them again. It appears to have sealed his emotions. He has thrown them to the back corner in exchange for a protective mask of indifference. “From where did you get that idea? I just told you I was looking for that brat.”

“Then look somewhere else because he’s not here, obviously.”

He directs a narrowed glance at you, though he doesn’t seem entirely pissed. “You don’t hold back on your attitude do you?”

Okay, but, like… why is he still here?

You sigh, giving up since it seems he won’t be going away any time soon. “If you tell me his name, maybe I’ll know which classroom he’s from.” 

“Oh, I already talked to him,” he answers nonchalantly, ignoring the brow that you unconsciously twitch. His purple eyes meet yours again and this time, they look amused. “Didn’t see the need to specify.”

“Are you recruiting members for your army?” you query directly, knitting your brows together to show your suspicion. “If so, you’re doing a terrible, and I mean absolutely terrible, job at persuading me.”

“Ha,” he lets out into the sky. “The army doesn’t need lone wolves like you. Trust me, you’ll die on your first mission like this. I have a strict rule for those who want to submit for a trial.”

It’s not like you give a damn about joining, but… 

“Which is?”

“You need to have at least one friend.”

You’re trying to depict the humor behind his answer, but he looks as serious about it as how he sounded. 

“Uh, okay?” You lean your head against the wall, relaxing because of the scenery and, surprisingly, this whole conversation as well. “Good thing I wasn’t planning to join, then.”

“What a waste. With that attitude of yours, I think you may be able to get yourself a cursed weapon.”

You drop your stare onto the sword that hangs from his belt. “You mean, that thing? It gives me the creeps.”

He heads off, leaving you behind, though he still raises a hand skyward to bid you a friendly farewell. “My doors are open if you ever change your mind.”

“Don’t I need to make a friend first, though?”

He looks past his shoulder at you. “Lucky for you, I like your feistiness enough that I don’t care.”

You don’t know how to properly assess all that has transpired after the appearance of this guy, who you don’t even know the name of. Was he perhaps expecting that you would have a clue because he’s some famous dude from the army? It’s not like he asked for yours either, yet he still set an invitation on the table only minutes after meeting you by mere chance.

Is he even aware that he just invited a fourteen year old, who knows nothing of the world, much less fighting, to join him on his quest to kill vampires and monsters?

It seems he was, indeed, recruiting.

“What the fuck?” you speak under your breath, incredulous about it all.

“See you around, lassie.”

Your eyes flip wide open and everything slowly starts to make sense. The images in your head fall into place like the pieces of a puzzle until you have the whole picture figured out.

Curving a tiny smile, you incline your head and close your eyes. “You’re so mean, Karkodan.” You even lack the emotional strength to call him out on being an ass like you usually do.

When you open your eyes again, it’s dimly lit and you’re in a lot of pain, but you’re forced to sit up because of the hands cautiously pushing you off, mindful of your own state.

Your groan mixes in with the sound of Mikaela’s hasty breaths as you unceremoniously fall on your ass, too weak to mind the hard surface below you.

It instantly pisses you off that your companion isn’t considerate enough to wait for your headache to pass when he asks, “How long has it been? Is it already nighttime? Where’s Yuu?” 

You can easily tell that he hasn’t properly healed. His words sound strained, and he can barely pronounce a proper sentence without having his voice crack apart, which only empowers your stress and, therefore, your headache. 

“How should I know?” you respond, not bothering to hide your annoyance. You expected that he’d be more appreciative of your noble sacrifice. After all, you do feel like your body has been butchered to pieces by the devil’s pitchfork and then put back together with the glue that’s found inside a four-year-old’s pencil case.

Mikaela struggles to get back on his feet and then urgently stalks off. “I need to get back to him,” he desperately says.

The events from before are vivid in both of your minds. Guren is after Yuichiro and it is possible that he assumed Shinoa’s team was nearby after having encountered you and Mikaela in the city.

What’s more. It’s likely that half of the team was on its way to meet up with you when it happened, Yuichiro amongst them. 

Mikaela seems to know that as he continues to limp, stealing support from the wall of the tunnel all the while. He forges a distance between you and him in the time that it takes you to recollect your thoughts.

When you realize he’s considerably far, you panic without having the energy to properly express it. Your knees shake as you try to get up, and he still shows no sign of stopping in his tracks. “Hey, wait. Where are you going?” 

“We have to find a way out of this tunnel,” he states like it’s the obvious.

You would lose your cool if you weren’t feeling this physically drained, yet you’re still forcing your body to do what it cannot. 

“But I—“ You trail off and stumble over your feet. Your sight turns into a blur before you collapse into a small puddle of who even knows what. 

You would rather not think about it. You’re already reeking of sweat, blood and dirt either way. 

You let gravity do its thing and your head drops dead on the floor. What little energy your body had recovered was sucked out the moment you attempted to stand.

How is it that the day keeps getting shittier?

You are unresponsive to the steps that get louder the closer Mikaela comes to where you lay. A part of you is relieved that he has turned back because, a mere second ago, you were sure he would leave you to rot on your own if it meant sparing Yuichiro of the danger Mikaela claims he’s in.

Oh, you’re still pissed. He’s just lucky that you don’t have the strength or a weapon to smack his head with.

The shadow of his presence towers above you while he crouches down. Your ears catch the grunt that ends up escaping his suppression. How was he hoping to crawl his way out of the tunnel when he can’t move without keeping his pain silent?

The things he does for that guy.

The things I do for this guy, you berate yourself while tossing a judgmental glare at Mikaela from beneath your lashes. It’s because he almost sucked you dry that you’re in a kind of pain that could be enough to atone for your sins.

But it’s not like you can accuse him of anything when you were the one who invited him to do it in the first place.

“I’m sorry. It’s because of me that you’re like this.” The touch of his hands on your back match the tenderness of his voice. 

You try not to be swayed by the guilt that is coming off him, but it might as well be easier to find a needle in a haystack than not feel pity. 

Your lips are shut even so.

“I’ll carry you,” he offers.

You are brought to his chest. One arm slides below your knees and pulls them together, while his other one stretches across your back. You know that vampires aren’t supposed to be able to transmit heat, but he always makes you feel warmer whenever personal space is tossed out the window. 

He scoops you tightly, enough to have you secure in his arms while he tries to stand, but his knees betray him and he topples over. 

The fall feels unpleasant to you, but the pain must have doubled on Mikaela, who takes the full force of the impact with his back against the wall. Your groans mingle together and he slides down to the floor. It seems the constant effort was enough to finally wear him out because he doesn't make any more attempts to move. 

Watching him try was already stressful. You were expecting that his wounds would be healed after feasting on your blood to the point where you would feel like this, but his body doesn’t appear to have made that much progress. 

His loud breaths hit your head, then your face once you look up to meet his eyes. 

You didn’t take the proximity into account, but neither of you have the energy to care, much less jerk apart. 

“Was my blood not enough to heal you?”

His pupils flick left and right repeatedly, treating both of your eyes with the same attention. He’s studying you so intently, looking dumbfounded, even, about your visible concern. He must not be used to others worrying about him. 

The open stare he offers you softens with reassurance. “There is specific equipment that’s designed to wear off the curse of a Black Demon Series. Ideally, that would be the faster solution, but I’d have to head back to the vampire city.”

“Then—“

“But your help was enough. The process will just take longer.” He shapes a glare that mindlessly focuses on you, but it's truly directed at the thoughts that are perturbing his mind. “Coincidentally, time is precisely what we don’t have.” 

You form an incredulous expression. “You can’t be expecting us to walk. Just look at us.”

He sighs. “I know.”

It doesn’t help that he starts sulking in front of your face. Damn him and that cute pout he makes when he’s upset. 

You, too, breathe out, but for an entirely different reason. “Listen. They’ll be fine.” 

Who are you kidding? Like he gives a damn about the team. 

“Yuichiro will be fine,” you clarify. “I barely know them, but they’re good people… even Shit-zuki. They have no intention of handing him over to the Imperial Demon Army. That’s why we’re currently on the run.”

He doesn’t look any less troubled after you say that. 

You never expected to get much results out of using mere words, much less yours —only Yuichiro has that power, it seems— but at the very least, his hold on you finally eases down, which can only mean he’s relaxed a bit. 

In spite of everything, you sneak out a hand and rest it on the upper section of his arm, just below his shoulder. You pat him with awkward movements, but the reassurance you try to express comes through, or so it looks that way. The crease in between his brows has finally loosened up.

“First, we rest,” you propose. “We’ll catch up to them later, alright?”

He thinks about it for a short moment, but eventually nods. “Alright.”

Chapter Text

You’re starting to think Mikaela may have sucked out your soul when he fed off your blood. Your body feels like an empty carcass that can’t withstand the weight of your words, let alone force your legs to bear with the rest of you in a journey back to base.

Does the vampire give a shit, though? No. He dragged you out of that underground tunnel after finding out you couldn’t walk on your own, responding with Yuichiro ‘this’ and ‘that’ whenever you complained about his lack of sensitivity for your weaker, more fragile human body.

At the very least, you’re getting your first dose of fresh air in God only knows how long.

The sky is blue, much like how it was on the day you barely escaped Guren’s persecution, meaning that you must have spent at least an entire night inside the sewer, and that Shinoa and the others are either far away from the area or have already been captured by the Imperial Demon Army.

You worry about Mikaela’s mental state, as it is likely he’s having similar concerns parading through his head. Those thoughts may end up affecting the quality of his decisions along the way. You know yourself that emotional impulse can be the biggest hindrance. 

As a matter of fact, you find him capable of selling you out to the devil if it ever promised him Yuichiro’s safety in return, and you can’t trust a guy who thinks that way. His company doesn’t feel all that welcoming anymore, but running away from your only source of protection is a no-go until your body finishes recovering. Maintaining a safe distance will be your best course of action for the time being. 

Ironically, he asked you to keep watch while he scouted for provisions inside the store, as if you could even do anything to fend off intruders or save your life. 

What is taking him so long?

You lean your head on the wall you’re sitting against and direct a groan at the sky, out of frustration, pain and impatience.

I should have minded my own business and kept to myself from the start, you think.

The sunlight warming you from above is blocked by Mikaela’s shadow when he stops in front of you. “Here,” he says, handing you a cup of coffee. “It will restore your energy.”

Your eyes jump to look at his red ones, then move down to the beverage. “Thanks,” you drag the word out as if it weighed on your tongue. With enough luck, he will mistake it for lack of energy and not the actual resentment you have for him.

All things considered, you can feel how warm the liquid is inside the cup. It’s good to know he cared enough to look for some way to heat it up, which might make the taste more bearable to swallow.

It’s not as easy as you had hoped when you take the first sip, but you think of it as medicine and down some more. 

In the end, you probably weren’t doing a good job in keeping a composed demeanor because you can make out Mikaela’s stare from the corner of your sight, focusing on your face like he’s searching for something. 

You feel an invasion of your personal space, then he sticks out a white packet in between his thumb and index finger. 

Holy sugar. 

Regardless of your previous thoughts about him, you give yourself the liberty of chuckling. “You could have done so sooner,” you say, accepting the small item and ripping it open to pour its contents inside.

“Sorry.” His tone barely surpasses a murmur as he takes his stare onto his other hand, brows slightly furrowed in concentration. “I was trying to guess whether you’d prefer white or brown.”

You give him an incredulous glance, eyes flipping between his face and the extra packet of sugar you don’t know when exactly was he planning to give you. “Forget about types. It's another spoonful of sugar for my coffee. Give it to me.”

In his defense, it has been years since the last time he had to think about food and its taste. Knowing that he bothered with very specific details —stupid details, might you add— means that he does care to some extent. 

You feast on your coffee and ask for a little extra time to let the caffeine sink in. He offers to carry you, but you turn him down because you just know he’s being an impatient jerk. Surely, a three minute difference won’t kill Yuichiro. 

This guy is desperate about his idiot brother. If only you had a prince charming who was as desperate to get you a burger. You haven't had meat in a long while. 

Once you’re sure Mikaela has suffered enough, you stumble back on your feet and stretch out your muscles. The pop in between your shoulder blades is inexplicably relieving. “Alright,” you say through a long yawn. “Where to?”

“We need a vehicle.” The vampire hands you a green backpack that has the provisions he collected. You guess he’s asking you to carry it. “The mall has plenty to choose from. We’ll have better chances there.”

You take the bag and swing it over your shoulders. “Oh, so you can hotwire a car?”

He’s already trekking off to the street by the time you’re done talking. Silence and a quick nod is all you get. As a result, you consider disappearing in the opposite direction, but think better of it. He’s lucky you’re not a hundred percent recovered.

And Karkodan here says you’re being a royal bitch, claiming you’re acting out on jealousy. Royally pissed, that’s what you are. 

It doesn’t help that Mikaela refuses to blurt out a word throughout the journey. You’re getting the feeling he might have sniffed out your bitterness and caught on. Not a single sentence or apology is offered even so. What’s worse is that you feel absolutely uncomfortable and awkward in this situation. Sure, Mikaela is habitually silent on most occasions, but never before have you felt the desire to sink your head in a hole and die—it’s that bad.

Guren, vampires, deadly monsters, where are you when I need you?

You don’t mean it in a literal sense, yet a thing called fate seems to think it’s funny that the next noise you hear comes from an alleyway to your right. 

Well, the term noise doesn’t quite cut it. Metal trash cans fall down like domino pieces, producing thunderous sounds loud enough to cover the whole block. It’s awfully disrupting to your eardrums and you can only imagine the damage Mikaela must be undergoing. 

Once it dies down and his senses fall back into place, he snaps his head to the right and unsheathes his blade. Similarly, you draw out your war fan, though without activating the curse. 

You follow after his steps, envying how perfectly quiet he is while you can’t even tone down the volume of your breaths. Despite the seriousness of the situation, you can’t help but think of a cat sneaking on its prey as you stare at him from behind. You do remember Yuichiro saying his eyes were once a deep blue before he turned into a full vampire. 

Focus, focus, damn it!

The shriek of a young child bursts your bubble of thought before you can try to pop it yourself. You almost don’t believe what you hear until you see a little girl squirming against the wall, looking terrified at the sight of Mikaela.

You may be used to him by now, but there’s no other creature the size of a human with eyes as bloody red as those of a vampire, and Mikaela just made himself look scarier in front of the child by accidentally aiming his sword at her throat. 

The idiot isn't even trying to compensate by smiling. You would think he’d at least try to be softer for a child who looks about ready to pass out from shock.

She’s still shaking as he lowers his sword and sheathes it back to his waist. Her eyes are wide, terror-stricken and wet with tears, and nothing seems to change when you reach Mikaela’s side to gently shove him away from the girl’s sight.

You don’t have much experience with kids. If you’re feeling your lips stretch for the first time in a long while, then you must be doing something right, or at the very least trying. 

“Hey—“ The words you’re intending to say die in your throat when an extra voice speaks in your place.

“Get away from her!” 

Turning around, you only get to flinch as the view of Mikaela’s hand hovers over your field of vision, blocking it completely until he brings his arm back to his side and opens his palm to show you the rock he just caught.

Oh, shit. I could have gotten a concussion today. 

A boy stands a short distance away from you. Quite the brave soul, you will admit. He'd probably be a goner in the presence of any other vampire that wasn’t Mikaela. 

You dodge the second rock he tosses and step away from the girl altogether. Seeing that she isn’t alone, you realize there’s no point in trying to convince these children you’re not the enemy. Hopefully, they have a group to come back to somewhere in the city. You and Mikaela have business elsewhere. 

The boy sees that you’ve made an opening and screams at the girl, “Run, Aoi!” 

She does as told and the kid follows after her, throwing a dirty look at Mikaela before disappearing down the street. 

It’s awfully silent until you clear your throat and look at him. “Well… that was rude.” Instantly, you want to smack yourself in the face. “I mean… kids, right?” 

He appears unbothered, but being addicted to staring deep into his eyes every time he looks in your direction also means that you can perceive the tiniest of differences in them, and his red irises are swirling with unhidden emotions at the moment; pain and absolute hate for what he is. 

It disappears with a blink and his neutrality is back in place, as if it was never gone to begin with. “Don’t bother,” he says. “Anyone with enough common sense knows better than to stay near an ugly vampire.” 

Did he just… 

If you thought your previous situation couldn’t get any weirder, now you’re having an awkward stare-down. Neither of you know what to say or do. It’s like you’re both waiting for the other to act first. 

Well, fuck me.

Also, where can I get a pair of glasses and a hand mirror? Apparently, being a vampire doesn’t guarantee you proper eyesight.

Chapter Text

It isn’t until you make it out of the city that you realize the air hasn't been reaching your lungs. 

With a deep intake of air, the relief that overcomes you kills off the adrenaline, and an overwhelming tiredness washes over you after a long exhale. 

Your eyelids slowly go down, body relaxing on its own accord, but you realize what's happening and your senses snap back into action. You jolt to a proper position, then rub the drowsiness off your eyes. 

Although Mikaela drives the jeep, first-hand experiences with Guren have forced the meaning of ‘caution’ down your throat. Trusting the vampire would certainly make things easier on you, but it’s safer to supervise your own protection. 

If there’s anyone alive in this world whose trust is guaranteed, that’s your own. 

There’s no denying that Shinoa’s team has good intentions. However, you didn’t tag along for any reason besides survival. Their family ties do not interest you, and it’s only a matter of time before you go your separate way. 

Only that you have no idea where. 

“You should rest,” says Mikaela, alternating his attention between you and the road. “We’re still about thirty minutes away from the house.” 

You give him an uninterested glance from the corner of your eye and look back at the window to your left, adjusting your elbow comfortably on the door. “Not tired.” Your voice is muffled by your palm on your mouth. “We slept long enough inside that sewer.”

“The state of your face says otherwise.”

“Well, of course I’m gonna look like a poorer version of Shit-zuki’s great grandfather when you didn’t give me time to wash myself or grab a change of clothes,” you huff out, unbothered about letting your irritation be known. “The mall was right there. It wouldn’t have taken me anymore than ten minutes.” 

“You can change once we get to the house.” The tone of his voice holds its usual indifference, but there’s an added speck of authority you definitely don’t appreciate. When you steal a peek at his eyes, they’re purposely focused on the road to keep their hard appearance away from you. 

Oh, yay, off to a great start. 

And, by the way, you’re fucking welcome for saving your miserable life, but, yeah, I guess it’s not that big of a deal. Yuichiro is more important, evidently.

Seriously, why? What’s the reason behind everyone’s obsession over Yuichiro? He’s a dangerous demon. Killing him would be the most logical solution, yet everyone continues risking their lives to protect his ass. You get it coming from Mikaela, since they’re brothers or whatever, but why Shinoa’s team?

Why Guren?

Even though it’s clear by now he wants to use him for selfish purposes, you still remember all of the times Guren took on the role of a caring guardian. You may not know him as well as Yuichiro does, apparently, but it’s no mystery to anyone that Guren valued his soldiers like they were family. You're sure that somewhere inside him, he still treasures Yuichiro in his own twisted way. 

You, on the other hand, were a last minute recruit to cover up for the losses. A targeted child that was bound to easily fall prey to the words of an adult.

“Go to hell, Yuichiro,” comes out in a hiss without having been processed by your brain. It catches you with the same surprise that gets Mikaela, only that you feign indifference for the sake of a cool appearance. Internally, though, you’re dreading a feud in the makings.

A long silence follows while he thinks of a reply. It’s thick, and gives you the sensation of being stuck underwater. The need to open the door and jump out feels like an urgent reflex your body has to execute. 

“Does it have something to do with that Guren guy?” he asks, questioningly calm both physically and in the way he sounds. “I don’t think being sought after for purposes like his is something to be envious about.”

He just has to catch me in a really bad mood, doesn’t he?

“Shut up, Mikaela,” you cut him off. The voice you hear from yourself is unrecognizable, maybe uncalled for, but you can't stop. “Don't play judge when it’s obvious whose side you’ll take. You don’t know the story, so it would do you good to stay out of this one. Just fawn over your lil' bro like usual while I deal with my own problems.”

He’s a little surprised, but it’s not like you have a meaningful relationship that would add brutal weight to your words. There isn’t much to feel guilty about. As a matter of fact, you probably didn’t even scratch the surface of his emotions.

“I wasn’t trying to.” He’s staying calm. A fight won't benefit the situation and he knows that well. “But you shouldn’t be feeling like this because of Guren. He’s not worth it and you should stay away from him.”

The passenger seat jerks as you slam your back into it. Your numb hand rests on your thigh. You focus on the road ahead with an angry frown and narrowed eyes. “Don’t you think I know that? It’s the reason why I’m on the run with a group of idiots. But, oh, hey, guess what? They want to play heroes and go rescue Guren.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs out, addressing the last bit of your angry spur. “It’s a stupid idea.”

“I’ll be out of here before that happens, so don’t worry if you think I want to murder Yuichiro or something. I don’t give a shit about him.” 

“Yes, I believe you,” he replies, making a simple statement that means no reassurance. 

It feels as though you’ve gone down the steps you once climbed together and are back to zero, as how it was before the night you gave him your blood for the first time.

The rational part of you claims it’s better this way, but a much weaker side wants what little you once had. Even though you don’t have a name for the ticklish feeling that appeared in your stomach whenever you and him interacted, it was still a nice form of relaxation, an escape from the world you live in. Instead of the adult you’ve been forced to act as, with Mikaela, you were able to feel like a stupid highschool girl getting nervous over a boy. 

I still think I’m right about you and the vampire, says Karkodan, but it’s nowhere near as big of a desire as what you feel for Yuichiro. 

“Now you're making shit up.”

He chuckles. “Desires don’t always have to be sexual, lassie.” 

“Stop calling me that.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot it was a thing reserved for Guren.”

“Don’t talk to me,” you growl. 

“It’s your fault for falling asleep.” 

As you appear in the familiar room of pure white, the feeling of being on endless nothingness gives your chest a small pang of anxiety. It’s a cheap move on Karkodan’s part, meant to weaken you for yet another mental battle. 

He lies a short distance away in his serpent form, a majestic sight to behold despite the fact he’s a disgusting demon. You never admit this out loud, but those patterns of white and green on his scales make him a beautiful animal. 

You cross your arms, faking a cool demeanour. “It wouldn’t kill you to let me sleep once. Are we doing this again already?”

“No.” His voice echoes off in spite of his moveless mouth. Only his forked tongue makes an appearance every now and then. “I just thought I’d let you know you’re easily edible in this mood.” 

You raise a brow, expressing your suspicion. “Okay, and why tell me this when you could have just taken over?” 

“It’s no fun if it’s this easy.”

“Spare me the bullcrap,” you huff out. 

Even without making any expressions, Karkodan seems amused. “This tough act you put on… you should already know I see past it.” He snakes in your direction, basking in the fact you aren’t moving or retaliating. “You’re a mature girl, I’ll give you that… but, inside, you’re just as lost and scared as everyone else, if not more. The reason you feel so betrayed is because you were sure you had found a safe place in Guren, isn't that right?” 

He’s already got you encased in his long body by the time your brain sparks into action, and the struggle you put up is useless against the tight squeeze he gives you.

“So?” comes out shaky. Your mask of indifference becomes harder to keep on. “Are you now going to start exploiting me with dreams about that asshole?” 

Karkodan chuckles again, and you’re disgusted by how much he appears to enjoy it. “You seem to think there’s only so little I can exploit.” He brings his head down to be at an equal eye level, purposely set on intimidating you. “Lassie, you’re a goldmine of wretched desires. You complain about your annoying teammates, but I know you yearn for their sappy bond. You think your hatred for Yuichiro is merely related to Guren, when in reality, you envy all that he has. His family. His strength and resilience. Even the vampire’s attention.” 

You figure it’s pointless to refute. The demon lurks inside the deepest corners of your mind and it’s futile to waste so much energy on keeping a stone-like expression the both of you know is not real. Your sight is blurred by some tears, which is something you hadn’t planned to let happen.

“Ah, yes, the vampire,” Karkodan muses as if remembering a thought. “You claim to not want anything to do with him, yet the thought of love entices you. You dream about getting physical with someone.” 

“Karkodan.” You heave in a breath. “If you want to take over my body, just do it.” 

Your surroundings start to spin, and your eyelids get heavier by the second. When you feel yourself fainting on top of his scales, you’re sure he’s about to get the deed done. 

Not yet. His voice has gone back inside your head. Call today’s progress a mere push, if you will. 

The coldness in the ambience drops down only a bit, but the comfort that comes from being held makes up for the lack of heat. 

When your fingers curl inwards, you feel the fabric of a shirt and your eyes snap wide open immediately after. Your shoulder blades stick back to the seat as you push off the intruder, instinctively protecting what’s left of your personal space. 

Realization dawns on you a little too late. 

“Mikaela?” you say with a shaky breath. “W-what are you doing?”

Standing on the left wing of the car with the door open, Mikaela steps back awkwardly, his arms lying stiffly to his sides. “Oh, um… I was going to wake you up, but then you started hugging me and I thought…” he trails off, but clears his throat and restarts his sentence more composed than before. “I’m sorry. We’ve already arrived.” 

You look past Mikaela and spot the house, where nothing seems out of the ordinary save for the deep silence and missing vehicles. It further confirms what you and the vampire suspected would end up happening. 

Locating Shinoa’s squad is going to be another huge pain in the ass, and with the Imperial Demon Army roaming around in search of your heads, it’ll be harder to make a thorough search while staying undetected.

Some leaves crack under Mikaela’s steps, snapping your attention back to him. He’s already a fair distance away from the car, so you hop off the seat and trot after him. 

You reach his side with an apology at the tip of your tongue. Your eyes are focused elsewhere to avoid the sight of his face, arm clinging to the other and rubbing it harshly, for lack of a better thought in your head. “Um, thanks… you could have shoved me off and you didn’t. I appreciate that.” 

“It’s not a problem.” He bears the usual calmness in his voice, but most of his attention has been placed on the house. The mixture of emotions swirling in his red irises gives you an insight into the dread he must be feeling behind the serene expression on his face. 

As you explore the house, you notice that most of the essentials are missing. It’s only an estimated guess, but, considering the whole place is still in one piece, you’d like to think Guren never made it this far, and that the team fled with enough spare time to grab some canned foods and kitchen appliances. 

“Clothes are also gone from the closet,” you say while stepping down the staircase to meet back with Mikaela, who’s checking things out in the kitchen. “Chances are they escaped unscathed. So, what’s next?”

“We move around the area.” He’s serious and determined as he closes a drawer and turns to look at you. “I’ve memorised most of their scents. It might make the search less straining on us.”

You aren’t in the mood to add anything or refute. His plan is the best you’ve got going and he’ll be doing most of the work with his magic nose, anyway. 

“Alright,” you breathe out, sounding bored and tired. “I’m guessing you’ll let me wash myself now?” 

You’re already making a beeline for the door before he can answer, and are surprised about hearing Mikaela’s steps clicking after yours not a second later. You force yourself to stay quiet in case it’s a coincidence, but it eventually becomes too obvious to keep ignoring.

“Can I help you?” You sound accusing in the way you address him.

It doesn’t slow him down. “You can’t go to the lake on your own. The Imperial Demon Army might still be around and wherever they go, vampires are sure to follow.”

“It’s only a five minute walk from here.” Your cool demeanor makes his concerns sound like mere exaggeration. You crane your head to look over your shoulder, showing a raised brow as you grab the towel and set of clothes from the sofa, which you had selected minutes prior. “You can fill up the tank while I’m gone. It will save us time. Likewise, I’ll begin packing up the essentials while you go wash up.”

“We already separated under orders of that human with pink hair and look where it got us.” It sounds like he won’t be backing down from his decision. “I’ll be a fair distance away. You don’t have to worry.”

“It’s still weird,” you huff out. “How will I know if you’re stealing a peek or not?”

“I can assure you I couldn't care less about looking at you in such a way.”

Okay, I was only half joking, but that’s another level of downright low. Karkodan, stop laughing! I swear to God…

It appears that Mikaela has caught on to your bitterness, since he decides to elaborate on his own accord. The fist he raises while clearing his throat divulges how awkward he feels about it. “Vampires don’t have those kinds of desires… sorry if I offended you.”

“S-shut up! You’re insinuating things.”

Chapter Text

Alright, okay. It’s no big deal. Just look at the sky. The meadow. Look elsewhere but him and you’ll be fine. 

“Are you good?” Mikaela asks, glancing over his shoulder in your direction, his brow perked upward. 

“Y-yes.” Your eyes speedily flick to his face, but you take them back to the sky in the next second. Your voice sounds skeptical when you ask, “Why?”

He inclines his head a little to the side. Strands of blond hair hang down and drip water on the grass. “Your face is really red.” For better or for worse, his voice has a tone of genuine innocence. 

“I’m fine.”

“But—“

“I said I’m fine!” Your brain is quick in formulating an escape. You grab the shirt from your shoulder and toss it at his face, heedless of the impulse you put into the action. “Your hair is dripping wet. How about I dry it for you?”

His attempted response is minimized to a muffled sound as you bring your hands to his hair and ruffle it to dryness. The movement is of such intensity it has him jittering to the sides. 

"Wouldn't want you to catch a cold," you blurt out, pitch escalating unusually high, almost forming a squeak.

Eventually, he slips half of his face into view, looking more curious than skeptical. "You're acting really weird," he voices with concern.

"Well, of course I'm going to act weird when you're prancing around naked!" 

His brows knit together. How he manages to stay all cute and innocent in spite of your predicament, you have no idea.

"Aren't you exaggerating?" he asks, tone leaning towards a soft chuckle. 

Well, okay, he's only bare from the waist up, but you've been having a hard time keeping your prying eyes away from his defined abdomen. What else are you supposed to do? If it's on sight your eyes are just going to do their job. He basically put himself up for display on a platter. 

Now that you've seen him shirtless, your mind has automatically declared he has got every desired attribute marked off your checklist. 

Oh, he looks fine, alright; product of all that vampire training, you suppose. The blood they drink must be nutritious. Mikaela leans more towards softer proportions, but your eyes know toned muscle when they see it, and he doesn’t fall short of them. You’ve also noticed he thins down at the waist, and there’s a certain delicacy to it that fits Mikaela, though you can’t pinpoint the source of your crazy thinking.

Earth calling to Lassie. 

Shut up, Karkodan. 

You answer Mikaela's call with a low hum that expresses an 'I'm listening'. Most of your attention, however, is being used in yet another quarrel with your demon. 

"By the way…" he says with an awkward tone. "Vampires don't catch colds."

His stare hasn't left you alone since your momentary pause and neither does he look away when you courageously glue your eyes to his. You really wish he had.

"Just…" You push out a breath of defeat and take the shirt from his head to offer it to him instead. "Put it on." 

"It's not my fault you used my shirt to dry yourself."

"I already said I was sorry."

"Then you used it again on my head."

It's uncalled for, but you flinch, which has been happening more often these past days. You've been on edge and in less control of your body movements. Even your figure of speech tends to be blemished with unnecessary stutters and lack of thought-out words. 

All is Karkodan's doing, you can only guess. That last dream of his messed with your head.

"S-so what? You just said vampires don't catch colds. I don’t see the big deal."

"We don't, but clothes still smell bad if they aren't left to dry." He grabs the shirt from your hand nonetheless and squirms the dampness out. 

"It's only until we make it back to the house."

"I honestly don't get it." His attention is focused on his handiwork, though he gives you short glances every now and then to check your expression. "But if it'll make you less uncomfortable…"

"Yes." 

When Mikaela finally puts the shirt on, your eyes close and you sigh, shoulders slumping.

Then, you inhale again, more calm than before. 

The recovered air, however, leaves your lungs in a single hitch, as if Mikaela had punched it out of you with the finger he now has pressed on your cheek. 

"I really think you're not okay." He barely reacts when you skip away like he was the embodiment of a virus. "Do you need rest?"

Your fists clench at your sides. "How many times must I tell you I'm fine!" 

Mikaela decides to amuse you. "Sure. Whatever you say."

"That's right!" you assert in the glory of your boiling face, which burns so hot you’re absentmindedly tugging at the collar of your shirt. "I know what I'm saying."

The slight crinkles at the corner of his eyes disappear alongside the half-smile that was touching his lips, replaced by a deep frown and a narrowed glare that moves to look behind you.

Your name flies from his lips with the sound of a warning, but Karkodan beats him to it a second early. 

Pulling out your weapon with practiced ease, you turn around and block the swing of a sword to your neck. 

You didn’t have enough time to fling the fan open. Instead, you keep the adversary’s weapon away from your face with your fan horizontally held in between your hands. It’s sturdy enough that you know it won’t break in half, but the vampire’s strength has you beat and the blade is slowly inching closer. 

Before you can lose your grip, Mikaela sprints forward with his inhuman speed and swings his own sword at the intruder, forcing him off you. 

Side by side, shoulders touching, you and Mikaela stand together with your weapons pointed to the vampire in front, who lands a safe distance away. You recognize the white uniform, which mimics the one Mikaela once wore. 

Just what we needed, you think, cursing your bad luck. 

"Mikaela Hyakuya." He shoves his sword in the blond’s direction. "By orders of Sanguinem's current leader, Ferid Bathory, you are to be brought back and punished for your treason." 

"Well, shit," you murmur to your companion, glancing sideways. "What now?"

"We’ll risk our position if he escapes." 

The subtext in that response is crystal clear. 

"In other words..." Once you shake your fan open, it outgrows your height by a head. “We kill him.”

You aren't sure if Mikaela's sword is capable of inflicting lethal damage to fellow vampires. Using your curse gear will be the safest bet, you decide, and charge forward without a moment’s hesitation. The need to exterminate awakes like a primal instinct you’ve kept asleep far too long. 

Mikaela is a good guy, but that doesn’t take away from the years worth of hatred you’ve been accumulating for these creatures. 

The clash of weapons mark the start of a second confrontation. Karkodan’s attentive demon eyes help you keep up with the vampire’s speedy attacks. Other than that, you aren’t bothering with borrowing from his demon energy. Your mental state isn’t at its full capacity and you’d rather not risk your chances on a regular vampire. 

The fight leans in your favor until you miss the finishing strike, precious seconds the vampire uses to swing his arm over your throat and pull you against him. His free hand clasps on your waist, and the one above moves to hold you still with the sharp end of his blade. As a consequence of the lost adrenaline, your fan shrinks back to its regular size. It’s still in your safe grasp, but the vampire has your arm locked in place. 

Just what you needed to make this day shittier: more shame. Karkodan’s array of insults aren’t helping you feel any better, once again commenting on his affected dignity.  

You're a disgrace to my power, he snarls. 

Should have thought twice before whacking my brain with your pestering. 

Mikaela stays in place, eyes sharp on your captor. He appears to be analyzing the situation, behavior you’d do well in imitating for a change. His sword rests static in his hold, aimed skyward. You can see the thin line of the blade splitting his face evenly from where you stand. 

“Hand yourself over,” says the enemy. “...or the girl dies.”

You'd rather die than be used as bait like the weak. 

"Karkodan," you whisper, tone so low the wind could have blown over it. "Activate the curse."

You better not waste my efforts, he mutters bitterly.

With the little mobility you possess, your arm twists at an uncomfortable angle and lands the spikes at the edge of your fan through the vampire’s thigh. The demonic aura eats his skin, causing enough pain that it prompts him to release you. 

Not the least bit proud of the time you’ve taken on this fight, you ask Karkodan for double the power. His intervention enhances your speed and strength, which you use to spin around, weapon aiming for his neck. 

You catch sight of a second vampire standing a few feet away and your hand freezes before the spikes can pierce through.

"She will share the same fate if you dare," he warns, vile seething through gritted teeth. "Let him go."

Your victim takes the lead in jumping away, then lands beside his companion, smirk back on his face. 

More important than your second failure, however, is the child that’s been taken hostage. 

You’ve seen that tear-stained face before, the sunflowers on her yellow dress and those widened, green eyes. You and Mikaela were the cause of that same fright only a few hours ago. She's the little girl you encountered in the city. 

"Just our luck,” you mutter under your breath, watching Mikaela as he stops at your side. His sword hangs from his hand now that the chance to attack has been robbed from you both, but his pupils have sharpened into even thinner slits. He's studying the situation, and you decide to do the same.

Their swords are sheathed, a synonym of overconfidence. They probably think you’ve already given up. The girl is being held from the throat, though you count on it not being dangerously tight because the color on her face looks normal. She’s a living rabbit in her hunter’s grasp, kicking thin air without result. Her struggles are as ineffective as those of an ant’s bite. 

"I have an idea," Mikaela reports with a volume of voice you only barely catch. Due to the heightened senses of your opponents, you figure it’s the loudest he can speak. "Can you distract them?"

"I might harm the girl in the process."

"Then make sure you don't." 

Okay to whatever the hell that means. You don't think you're getting the picture of his idea correctly, but you plan on going with your guts. There are various forms of distractions, one of which is your trusty, old taunting. 

You take a step forward and snarl, "Hey!"

Both pairs of red eyes leave Mikaela in favor of you.

"Yeah, that's right," you continue. "You better direct those pointy elf ears at me, for I have something to say to you, vampire scum, in the name of what's left of the human race. Call me your female, human version of Ferid Barney or whatever he's called, if you will. I'm the representative here."

You can feel the incredulous stare of Mikaela burning holes on your back, but victory has been achieved as far as you're concerned now that the two vampires share the same look of confusion as him. 

"Years ago, humanity lost its last McDonald’s restaurant in a battle that the vampires initiated, and as a devoted soul to all things greasy, I pledge my hatred to you all. While I have the word, I’d also like to say I’d appreciate it if you could maybe consider the blood of cows for a change? Horses? Rabbits? Surely, ours can't be that much different." Your brain is on autopilot, serving whatever ramble that comes to the plate. "Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask. What's the deal with vampire fashion? I'm telling you, those thigh high boots are too extra. How can you even bend your knees in those? Like, seriously, who the fuck tailors them? A vampire fashionista?"

"Enough!" one of the vampires sneers.

"I'm not done yet, piece of whale-shit. I just want to finish by saying: fuck you for destroying McDonalds. In the name of your sins, I will ram this fan.” You stick Karkodan out into view. “High up your ass.”

I deserve more respect than that, he grumbles.

No, you don't. Shut up. 

A syllable before the end of your speech, the girl is released and her capturer combusts into flames, matching the intensity of a car on a full tank. 

On the ground, sits the child, scared out of her wits and with a black wristband in her clutch. 

Based on the textbooks you’ve read about vampires, they need some type of protection against the sun to save themselves from burning alive.

The vampire’s potent screams must be pounding into her head, mixed with the heat of the flames so close to her skin, the poor girl is likely undergoing a traumatizing moment. 

Mikaela dashes to her side not a second later and scoops her in his arms. The precision in his action tells you he might have planned it from the start, perhaps signaling to the girl while you were stealing the show. 

Once he has jumped away, you flick your fan into action and run up to the vampire for a quick extermination. You cut off his head and watch the body disintegrate before it can touch the ground. The second one isn’t able to put up much a fight either and suffers an equal fate, bringing the commotion to a definite end at last.

You shove Karkodan away and walk over to the pair. Mikaela has set her down and you're surprised the girl has yet to run away. Instead, she's looking up at him with a sparkle in her eyes. Curiosity, perhaps. Maybe confusion. You're just glad she's staying put. That way, Mikaela won't have a reason to feel bad like last time. You still remember how awkward that was.  

Your best smile is on display as you crouch down to meet the girl's gaze. "Aoi, is it?" You recall the time her male companion called her that. "You're safe now."

It hits you as hard as it does to Mikaela when she scoots behind his leg to hide herself from your eyes. Her fingers curl into the fabric of his pants. Not that she looks scared, more so embarrassed. 

"Well, well," your tone of voice teases him. An amused brow is raised over your left eye as you get up. "Looks like someone’s taken a shine to her blond prince."

He’s visibly confused, but definitely not annoyed. He shoots the child a bashful glance from the corner of his sight and says, "She's probably overwhelmed.”

You shrug, smiling still. "Whatever you say."

"We have to leave before more vampires show up. It won't be long before they start to wonder where those two went." 

Aoi sneaks her head out and chants, "Big-ass, piece of whale shit and McDonald’s destroyers!"

Mikaela eyes you with plain disappointment and you shrug again, unable to swallow your grin.

"I already like her."

Chapter Text

"Well, do something," you mutter. 

"Why me?"

"Because she obviously likes you and might respond to what you say. I haven't had any luck thus far."  

Mikaela moves his confused stare over to the little girl on the couch. Her bare feet are propped on the cushion and she's tightly hugging her legs. Their creamy-colored skin is blemished with dirt and a few scratches that don't appear serious. 

She's, for the most part, bashful. Perhaps a bit bewildered because of what has gone down in the past hour, but she's not throwing a tantrum or crying her eyes out, much to your relief. The opposite would be a hindrance to the little game of hide-and-seek you're stuck playing with Guren, the vampires and the Imperial Demon Army. 

You nudge his arm intentionally harsh, so that it shoves him a step forward. He narrows a weak glare, but looks otherwise inclined to give it a try. You catch the slight twitch of his fingers, which hang stiffly at his sides, and it takes everything in you to keep your chuckle quiet. 

The tables have turned. Mikaela now looks like the one who's petrified of a little girl. 

When he finally raises his hand, it's to clear his throat. You almost groan out in frustration. He was the one pestering you into hurrying it up because 'Yuu needs me' and now he's wasting valuable time on senseless embarrassment. 

Mikaela takes another step forward. The girl meets his crimson eyes with genuine amounts of curiosity making hers sparkle. Her legs are still held tight to her chest, but she seems more open to interaction.

Then, to your utter disappointment, his hand falls flat on her head. The two pats he makes rival the stiffness of a robot. 

"There, there," he says with the empiest voice you have ever heard from a talking creature.

This time, you do smack your face and groan out loud, only realizing after hearing the sound of a small giggle that Aoi has been effectively charmed. 

Girls will be girls…even at eight years old. 

You sigh, but it's mostly from relief, and step forward to join Mikaela's side. The brief smile tugging at your lips is welcoming as you crouch down to be at an eye level with her. You may not have the time or patience to act vivacious, but you know better than to fault the girl for it.

Aoi seems open in the look that she returns, so you give the whole talking business another try. "Hey, you were with a boy before, right? Where is he now? We can take you to him."

Her eyes travel down to the fingers that are intertwined around her knees. The twinkle is gone from her irises, leaving an opaque shade of green. 

"He's dead." 

You blink, and your next words come out more tender than before. "Is there anyone else that you know? Friends… family?"

"No." The whisper of her fragile voice tempts to split your heart in two, but there are pressing matters to address that keep your insides composed. 

You end up patting her head as awkwardly as Mikaela, if not more. "I'm sorry about that… please give us a minute." You scurry away with the vampire's arm in your hands and stop by the staircase. Your eyes accidentally clash with Aoi’s, so you try to communicate some reassurance with a cheeky grin. "It'll just be a moment, okay? Munch on that energy bar I gave you earlier while we discuss some things."

She nods and does as told without complaints or frowns. You're grateful for her cooperativeness, considering how painfully established it is that both you and Mikaela suck at parenting. 

You turn to your companion with traces of bewilderment seared on your face. Your words are kept to whispers. "What now? We can't have a child tagging along on our suicide missions!" 

"We can't leave her behind either."

"I know that, but what do you propose we do? We can't drive around the region with a child that's easy bait to both vampires and the Imperial Demon Army." 

He ponders with his stare on the floor and eventually moves it back to meet your eyes. "Do you know of any human villages around here? Maybe we can drop her off there."

"I know there should be, but I'm completely clueless about their locations. They stay hidden from the army and vampires. Away from the chaos…"

Actually, departing for one of those villages does sound like a nice alternative to staying with Shinoa's group. 

"We can search for a village at the same time we scout for Shinoa's team," you conclude. "I have some sectors in mind that could potentially be inhabited. Who knows? Maybe we'll rejoin with our group there." 

He nods and turns away not a second later. "It's settled then. I'll go fill the tank." 

"And leave me alone with the kid?" You grab his wrist, giving it a tug that only manages to keep him in place. "I think not. We're co-parenting, mister. Not to mention she's clearly into you, which will be of much needed help." 

The playful wink of your eye makes it look as though you're joking, but, besides your slight exaggeration, you both know that the statement is true, much to Mikaela's developing embarrassment. 

He awkwardly looks off to the side, lips partially pursed. "I don't know how to care for a child." 

You huff out a noisy breath. It sounds akin to laughter. "Just so you get a bit of context, I accidentally sat on the egg I was supposed to take care of for Health Class and murdered my plant on the third day of Science Class." 

"That's not very reassuring." 

Your fist playfully collides with his shoulder as you try to laugh it out. "Hey, you can be the dad and I'll be the teenage nanny that gets paid for eating popcorn and watching television in the living room." 

He doesn't see the need to add a comment and thus settles for a simple eye-roll instead. 

"Okay, Aoi." Your tone goes back to a vibrant pitch as you make it back to the couch with Mikaela in tow. "You're coming with us. We'll find you new friends and family, so don't worry about a thing, alright?" 

She nods with a tiny smile up for display. "Alright.” Her answer communicates trust. You realize then that you and Mikaela are all she has now. 

What are the steps to dealing with a kid? Introductions? Yeah, that's a good start, I guess.

You give her your name and then present Mikaela with a thumb poking in his direction. It’s hard to tell whether she realizes he’s a vampire or not, but you skip that part of the introduction altogether for obvious reasons. 

Aoi's reaction doesn't fall short of predictable. "Mika! I like Mika! It's beautiful!" she exclaims. The couple of holes in between her teeth complement her smile in an adorable manner. 

She completely disregards yours, but alright. It's cool. You're just the underpaid nanny.

Even though Mikaela gets easily flustered by her bold declarations,  there's visible confusion in his eyes. Somehow, you have a feeling you know what he’s thinking. Self-loathing is a constant with Mikaela, after all. He must not believe that a little girl can see him with her pure eyes and still be able to smile. 

In the end, a good thing may come from all of this. It is said that children are more honest than adults, and if this girl doesn’t make out a monster whenever she looks at him, then he better believe it. 

"Well, then. I say it's about time you get a change of clothes." 

You won't be able to get her anything cuter than the dress she's wearing, but it's too filthy and torned to be of any use to her. 

You offer a hand and nod towards the staircase. "Let's go."

"Can Mika help?" She merrily throws her hand in yours as she asks, and you're already starting to feel part of Mikaela's embarrassment passing onto you.

"No can do, hun. You're a girl. He's a dude. It's general law. Now, come on."

She looks mildly disappointed, but does not refute.

There's barely anything left inside the closet and you end up designing a dress out of a giant t-shirt that was probably Kimizuki's. With a forgotten belt from a military uniform, you fasten the loose fabric to her waist. 

"I like it very much," says Aoi while giving herself a once over on the dusty mirror. Her chubby cheeks pull up with the wide smile she gives you. "Thank you!" 

You chuckle, feeling strangely shy, as shown by your hand scratching the back of your head. "No problem. I’m glad you like it." 

On the way downstairs, you spot Mikaela crossing the main door to go outside. He’s holding a red container of gasoline to his right, and by the time you notice Aoi has ditched your side, she’s already taken a hold of Mikaela’s free hand.

Damn, this girl has bigger balls than all of the boys in the team combined.

Even though Mikaela's fingers hang lifelessly in the air, he doesn't seem desperate to remove his hand, and as you catch a glimpse of his side profile, you see the beginnings of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. One that Aoi, of course, gives back.

In turn, you curve a smile yourself. 

[…]

"I spy with my little eye something…white and fluffy!"

"Clouds." 

The air of Aoi's small gasp blows on your ear. She's pressing into the back of your seat, leaning out in the opening between you and Mikaela for a better view of the road. "How are you so good at this? You've gotten all the answers right!" she tells you with genuine wonder.

"It took me years to master this ability," you answer. The seriousness in your response makes Mikaela look at you from the corner of his eye. His deadpan expression mutters 'seriously?'. "Call me sensei and I may teach you my ways, young grasshopper." 

"Yes, sensei!" The excitement makes her face shine. She sinks back into her seat and leans on the window next to her. Soft hums vibrate inside her throat as she makes up random tunes.

You were worried for nothing. Taking care of Aoi has been a breeze. Easier than taking care of an egg. A relaxing walk in the park—

"Where are we going?" Aoi sighes out. "Are we there yet? I'm tired of sitting." 

Or so it seems you thought. 

"It'll be a while, Aoi," you answer.

"I'm bored…"

"Let's play another round then." You've had enough of the game, but the options for entertainment are limited as it is. Mikaela is damn lucky to be driving, because, otherwise, you would have forced him to participate. "I'll be spying and you'll be the one guessing."

"Okay!"

"Let's see," you murmur under your breath, leaning over your legs to get a better look of the sky. "I spy with my little eye… something yellow, very bright and beautiful."

Aio jumps forward and splatters her hands on both seats. "Mika!" she exclaims with a pair of sparkly eyes situated on him. 

You can tell it still makes him uncomfortable, but he's no longer banning himself from showing tiny smiles to the girl. 

You clear your throat and look away. Your voice comes out in a murmur. "I meant the sun, but okay." 

The game continues. Even Mika participates at some point as per request of Aoi, and by the end of the hour, you're sure you have all of the landscapes memorized down to the last detail. Your patience already needs some fueling, but you find peace in knowing it could be worse. Aoi's a good kid. She’s only behaving like one. 

"I'm tired of playing."

You can't see her, yet the muffled sound makes you think she's pouting. You make sure the sigh you push out is quiet so as to not offend her. "Okay then…" you trail off, thinking with your stare glued to the ceiling. "Why don't you take a nap? We still have ways to go before we reach our destination."

"I'm not sleepy. I want to play another game."

You crane your head to meet her eyes. "Let's take a break on those for a bit." As you see the puff of her cheeks and the beginnings of a refute on her tongue, you rapidly add, "Mikaela is driving and he needs to concentrate... right?" 

He acknowledges the look you give him with a sideway glance. His red eyes then flip to Aoi and move back to the road. "Yes."

"Oh…" she trails off, but realization morphs into gleeful understanding. "Okay!"

By the power invested in me, I declare Mikaela my sacred trump card. 

Aoi falls back on her seat without further comment and the next thirty minutes or so are peacefully uneventful except for the occasional comment on Aoi's part.

On another note, your suspicions have been growing the more you steal glances at Mikaela. He's habitually quiet and his responses are always brief, but never to this extent unless there's something tormenting his mind. Right now, you're sure something’s up. His brows are knitted and he's glaring at the road. One would think he was sucking the life out of the steering wheel with how strongly his hands clutch onto it. 

When Aoi dips her head into view, you're snapped out of your thoughts and flinch in surprise. 

"I'm hungry," she whines with eyes that easily mimic a puppy's stare. 

"Already?" 

You give her an energy bar. 

"I'm thirsty," she adds ten minutes later.

Mikaela reduces the speed so you can pour water inside a plastic cup without spilling, yet Aoi drops a third of it on her seat as soon as it’s given to her. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs with notable shame.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Less than half an hour later, her voice makes another entrance. "Are we there yet?"

"No," you and Mikaela answer in harmony. Neither of you bear any ill feelings toward the little girl, but your voices sound equally worn out.

Aoi eventually calls your name, sounding bashful. Probably because she has caught on to the tiredness in both yours and Mikaela's eyes.

"Yes?" you breathe out, mindful of your tone.

"I need to pee." 

You stick the back of your head to the seat, eyes shut tight. "...okay."

"I'll stop the car," adds Mikaela with a breathiness that doesn't go unnoticed by your ears. You’re already set on confronting him as soon as the chance presents itself. 

He hits the breaks on the side of the road and you hop out of the jeep with Aoi in tow. 

"Alright then." Your words come off hoarse as you stretch out your arms. "Can you go on your own?"

Aoi nods. "Yep!"

You release a breath you didn't know you were holding and hand her some paper squares. "Okay, good. Don't go farther than those bushes. I'll be keeping an eye on you from here." Once she has trotted away, you hop back inside the car without shutting the door. Both of your legs hang at the edge of the vehicle. 

Although your body faces Aoi, your thoughts can't leave Mikaela alone. 

"Are you okay?" 

He automatically becomes guarded with the 'yes' he delivers for an answer. Your eyes glint with skepticism as you look at him from over your shoulder, but he's persistently avoiding your stare.

Your lips pry open, but Aoi's voice blesses your ears instead. 

"I'm back!"

You crane your head in her direction with the mask of a smile in place. "Good. Let's get going then."

"I need a break," adds Mikaela, still avoiding your eyes. 

"Oh, that's fine. I can take the wheel in your stead." 

The shake of his head steps over your sentence. "No, I'll drive. Just give me a few minutes." He pauses to inhale a deep breath that appears to relieve him. "You're tired too, right? Let's rest."

You would be glad was it not for the fact Mikaela has been refusing every opportunity to take a break prior to this moment. This is how you know he truly isn't fine.

"Alright," you pretend to follow along. "Whatever you say." 

Mikaela doesn't open his eyes even once in all of the time you spend with Aoi playing outside. You make sure to chase her to absolute exhaustion. The job is successfully concluded when you finally drop Aoi on the back seat, who's sound asleep. 

You run your wrist over your damp temples and tenderly close the door to ensure Aoi isn't woken up. You climb to the front of the vehicle and deflate on the seat with a long sigh of relief. 

"I'm beat, but at least the little ball of sunshine has been put to rest." You look at Mikaela when he doesn't answer back. The tension on his eyelids plus the breaths he pushes out means he's wide awake. "Hey," you whisper softly. The moment demands that you thread around it carefully. "I know you're not okay. Do you need blood again?"

The creases on his forehead multiply as he shakes his head. Not a single word or sound leaves his sealed mouth.

"It would be best that you take this chance either way… since Aoi's asleep." 

"I said I'm fine," comes out strained. 

"Yeah, right," you huff out while rolling your eyes. "Are we seriously going to have this talk again? Stop trying to repress what's simply instinctual. What's the point of holding back if you're going to end up needing double the amount later on? Sorry if I sound rude, but I just don't understand it."

"I don't know." His response has been lowered to whimpers. "I just try to do it as little as possible because I hate it so much." 

"I know you do." Your eyes match the softness of your words. You even feel tempted to reach out with your hand, but think better of it. "If you feel selfish doing it; if you can't do it for yourself, then do it for me and Aoi. You risk our safety by repressing your urges. You can't help me protect her if you're not functioning properly, okay?"

You fear the worse the longer he takes to reply, but your worries dispel when he finally turns to face you. "... okay." 

He seems skeptical about his own answer, so you unfasten the first couple of buttons on your shirt before he decides against it. Your heart pounds with nervousness. The absolute silence doesn't help you cope with the blood that's rushing to your ears. Your throat might be as parched as Mikaela's, you dare say. 

Have I always been this nervous? you ponder with a hazy mind in the makings. You were the epitome of professionalism not a second ago. 

Quite unexpectedly, you hear your name. It's the size of a whisper, but never before have you felt more inclined to heed his call. Never before have you heard your name drenched with want. You feel desired; needed, and your body suddenly pulsates because of that.

These are not normal circumstances, you tell yourself, but other than that small part of your brain, nothing else in you seems to care.

You answer his call with a pair of glossy eyes because no words manage to go past your throat. His Adam's apple bobs, and you swallow down equally hard in turn. Your eyes are locked with his in an inescapable embrace. 

"What is it?" you finally answer. It's barely audible, but his heightened senses catch the weak sound.

His blink is slow and dazy. He looks about ready to unlock the mental chains binding him to the seat. "I'm… so thirsty I can barely stand it. Please, forgive me." 

He plunges forward and bites your neck. His hands spread on your shoulders and maneuver you to the side for better reach. The position is anything but comfortable.

"Mikaela!" you whisper loudly, but not with any intention of shoving him off. You're just surprised, and your hand instinctively lands on his messy hair to pat it in case he mistakes your accidental outburst for an unwarranted scold. "Calm down," you add with a softer tone of voice. "It's okay."

The initial sting is quick to pass, and pain mutates into an inexplicable feeling of fullness. You can't find the proper words to describe it. The sensation is pleasant and you don't want it to disappear. If anything, you find yourself wanting more. 

You want him closer.

Mikaela seems to be thinking along those lines as well. He pulls you in until you’re half out of the seat. He continues to drag you forward in spite of your weak protests, but you eventually follow his silent bidding by trekking over to his side, trying to be as noiseless with your movements as possible, an effort that your yelp betrays when Mikaela's sharp pull makes you land directly on his lap. 

"M-Mikaela…" You are surprised to hear the sound of a weird plea in the way you whisper his name. The desire to cut open your vocal chords has never been stronger. 

His body is as cold as ever, but the heat that you emanate is more than enough for the two of you. He presses and pulls you closer. His hands limit your escape from behind, one on your shoulder blades and the other at the back of your head. Not that you would bother with trying to flee. 

Your chest melts into his every time you take a breath. You can't keep yourself quiet no matter how hard you try. Your bodies are pressed to the point of asphyxiation, yet your greed demands more. More touch. More skin. You feel an overwhelming need tingling inside you. Whatever your body doesn't cover, you make sure to explore with your hands. 

You touch his hair; his neck; caress his back. Your movements wear bits of shyness, but then the air of his little sigh tickles your neck, giving you the confidence to nestle further on his lap.

Holy fuck, this has no reason to feel so good. 

It wasn’t like this before. Then again, you've only let him drink your blood twice. The experiences aren't set on stone. You were skeptical and mistrustful the first time he bit your wrist, and the second time happened during a life-threatening situation.

Now, it's just you and him in a car, and the sunset flashing on the back window doesn't do anything to help your case. It sets up a damn good ambience. 

You don't remember reading anything about blood-sucking feeling this good. Even though every part of you screams for more, something in the back of your head doesn't want to go through with this again. You feel shameful about the pleasure. 

Mikaela pushes a groan out of you as he slams you against the steering wheel, hands pinning your wrists in an uncomfortable position. The horn then blasts off and wakes you out of your stupor. 

"Mikaela, you'll wake the kid!" you hiss. Your hands shoot to the headrest and you press him back to the seat with your chest. The moan you hear in his throat spurs a tremble down your spine. 

"Sensei? What's going on?" a drowsy voice slurs. "What are you doing?" 

"Aoi!" you nearly shriek. "We're, um… just sharing a friendly hug." You're lucky to be speaking to a child. Anyone else would unmask the nervous chuckle following your answer.

Aoi cocks her head to the side, showing innocence in her stare. "Friends hug like that?"

"Yep!" you run over her sentence with your answer, which goes above your normal pitch. "It's totally normal! It's just an innocent hug. No big deal!" 

"Oh…" 

She appears thoughtful for a moment.

"I wanna join the hug too!" 

"No! Wait, Aoi, hold on a minute…Ah!"

Chapter Text

Okay, I'm officially going crazy. 

If you thought clinging to Mikaela with the expertise of a stripper on her favorite pole bar was bad enough, you have now started to hear voices out of nowhere. 

Like soft whispers inside your head, they insist that the scenery you’re currently crossing by car should be ringing a bell, yet it’s as if your able pair of eyes keep telling you 'fucks no' everytime you take another glimpse at the landscapes of literally nothing but abandoned roads and endless fields of dead soil. 

You give yourself a solid smack on the head for good measure and sink further on your seat in an attempt to relax. 

Unfortunately, it only earns you Aoi's attention. 

"Are you okay, sensei?"

You dart your head toward her direction with the mask of a smile in place. "Huh? Oh, yes. I'm just a bit tired, is all. Don't worry about me. Keep enjoying yourself." 

You hope to dear God your tone was neutral on that last part because not only are you a woman with mental problems and a horny ass to boot, you've also reached incredible levels of downright immaturity. There's no other way to describe the unwarranted bitterness you’re directing at Aoi for looking so comfortable on Mikaela’s lap.

Fortunately, it seems that none of the poisonous feelings slipped through your voice, or so the smile on Aoi's face reassures you. 

"Don't worry, sensei!" she exclaims, and you can't help but look at the tiny hands that are clutching the steering wheel a little below Mikaela's bigger ones. "Just take a nap to feel better! I'll be driving safely, pinky promise!' 

You try to mimic the curve of Aoi's lips, but end up with a poor replica of her joyous expression. "Yeah, I have no doubt that you will." 

Perhaps rest is what you need… yeah. The combination of blood loss and lack of sleep may be what’s making you go crazy in the head. That would give an answer to the voices you’re suddenly hearing, though the same can't be said about the porn star you have discovered lying dormant in you. 

Actually, it's the reason why Mikaela has yet to bat an eye in your direction and thus why you pulled an involuntary all nighter. Your head didn’t stop giving you shit for the spectacle you made out of yourself yesterday.

Why is it that everytime you and Mikaela make a bit of progress there's some bullshit situation shoving you back to step number zero? 

Chances are that not even an actual couple has the amount of arguments and disagreements you have endured with the vampire throughout this weird concoction of a partnership or whatever it is you two have, though with the constant reliance for survival, the addition of a child on the way and the problems related to intimacy, you might as well smack a sign on the back of the jeep that says 'just married' and call it a day. 

And like the needy wife you just unofficially titled yourself as, time and time again has made it painfully clear that you can't stand being on bad terms with your partner for too long.

Teamwork ensures a better chance of survival , is what you'd normally say to justify your feelings, but your body doesn’t seem to be following this time around.

You have no explanation for what happened yesterday. God only knows how content you’d be if Mikaela reassured you with something along the lines of 'Hey, it's a normal reaction' but since he has become rather distant and awkward with you, it's safe to say you totally are a pervert in his book starting today onwards. 

The faster you reunite with Shinoa's group, the better you'll fare. 

It doesn't help that the echoes in your head keep bouncing against the walls of your brain, mixing in with your spur of thoughts. They feel like an instinct. A call to the unknown. A feeling that's both new and recognizable at the same time. 

Yeah, I'm definitely crazy, and tired and seemingly horny… but, hey, it's only every teenager ever.

You shuffle on your seat for a comfortable position and snuggle your cheek over the makeshift pillow you've made from your own shoulder. But before calling it an official shut eye, you stare off into the horizon of endless dry fields at the sun that's splitting the ground from the sky. 

It scatters your thoughts away from your many problems and helps you relax. 

As your lids begin to flutter, you're still conscious enough about your surroundings to notice that the vehicle runs past an old well. It’s the first object that concurs with the familiarity your brain has been repeatedly insisting on, and the sudden realization makes your body jolt forward without the predetermined thought of doing so. 

It induces a similar reaction on both Mikaela and Aoi, who look at you with an essence of wariness and surprise.

"Sensei?"

"What happened?" he adds after Aoi, gaze alternating between you and the road ahead. With the way he has perked his ears and scrunched down his brows, it's safe to assume he has lined his senses to complete focus. "Did you see something?"

You spot a house in the distance. It shines like a beacon amidst the lack of pretty much anything surrounding it, and the walls of your stomach start tickling with what feels like a warning.

Your name wears a somber version of Mikaela's voice. This could be his umpteenth time calling you, for all you know.

"Hey," he says. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

Even though Mikaela has lessened the speed of the vehicle, he's already about to drive past the abandoned house, and an instinct makes you smack your fisted hands against the door with urgency.

"Stop the car!" 

You leap out not a second after Mikaela has hit the brakes, ignoring the glare you have earned on your back for acting so brash. Poor Aoi must have gotten quite scared, but your five senses are focused on the place wide enough to call a mansion.

It looks like an expensive construction of fine caliber. Time and weather have peeled off the paint, but it is otherwise in perfect state. 

You climb the steps leading up to the porch and stop just in front of the door with an extended hand, which you notice is mildly trembling as it hovers inches above the rusty knob. Doubt keeps it still for only a couple of seconds before it is overpowered by the part of you that seeks answers. 

The door screeches as you open it, and absolute silence takes over once the noise dies down. Sunrays flash into the room, granting the light that can't seep past the closed windows. Thick layers of dust coat the furniture and the items above it in a dress of gray. For a house so big, there isn't much decoration to brag about besides the essentials that normal homes have. Everything looks like it was made of only the finest materials, nonetheless. 

The scene is still not ringing any bells, though. You don't recall ever stepping on any mansions besides what the Hiragis own, much less a place that's located right in the middle of nowhere.

You spin around with a potent swirl, briefly crouched down as if you were about to pounce on someone, when your name is spoken out loud, and then you relax upon realizing it's only Mikaela at the door. 

"You better have a good explanation for making us stop here so suddenly." He tries to keep it monotonous, but you can hear the hint of annoyance that has managed to slip. 

Dragging your eyes down, you locate the little hand that's clinging to Mikaela’s as if he was at risk of disappearing. A tight hold that doesn't hurt only because she's grasping onto it with the utmost strength of a child. When you look at her face, you find uncertainty contorting her features out of place. 

"Sensei, I don't like it here. Please, let's go back." 

Mikaela is generous enough to grant you half a minute of time to answer, but your face is expressionless and your lips are sealed, and his brows scrunch down when his patience wears out.

"Hey, what has gotten into you? You're scaring the child." You can see the peek of his sharp fangs as he asks—no, demands a reply. "With every second we waste here, Yuu and the others are moving farther away." 

He loses your attention on the part where Yuichiro is brought up. You would trade that guy to the devil for a chewed piece of gum, what makes Mikaela think you’d give a damn right now? 

You turn around to face the spacious living room. Any words blabbered by the vampire are no more than noisy murmurs thrown to the back of your head. 

Maybe he doesn't realize it in his own impatience, but this place seems like a decent stop for some rest compared to spending another night inside that jeep. 

There's a set of couches near the wall with a coffee table standing in between. And where the dim light doesn't reach, a corridor stretches out to the back, probably where the rest of the rooms reside, but you don't dare to venture further than the living room. 

Of the many cabinets that bear collectors items of expensive appearance, there's one that stands out for holding various picture portraits, and you walk straight to it in hopes that an image of the owner's face may give you a lead as to why you've been feeling so strangely about a house you know nothing about.

If there's anything tempting your patience more than the confusion you're undergoing, then it's Mikaela's endless yapping about heading back to the jeep.

"Shut up, would you?" There's hardly any malice in your petition, partly because you're much too focused on the photos and partly because speaking any louder seems unfitting for the moment and location. 

You grab the picture frame from its spot on the center and bring it closer to your face. 

It's a complete family photo. The color has worn off for the most part, but you can identify two adults—spouses, for the looks of it, sitting on the last step leading up to the porch. They're surrounded by at least fifteen kids varying from the ages of five to twelve. Though it's not everyday that you see a couple with this many children, there's nothing steering them away from an ordinary family.

You're sure there's no use for the portrait until the little girl on the male adult's lap catches your attention. You squint your eyes and bring it closer. The poor state of the picture doesn't make it easier. 

Then a chill treks down your back and into the pores of your skin when you finally find some familiarity, though it's far from what you would have ever dared to expect. 

"What the fuck?" you murmur under your breath. 

That child is you . 

You're very young in the photo, but definitely not young enough to not remember who these people are. 

Your home was someplace else, right? By the outskirts of the city you just left behind. Your mom and dad looked nothing like the couple in the picture. They died on the day of the apocalyptic breakout. And you don't have fourteen brothers and sisters.

Right?

Or do you? 

"What the fuck?!" you screech like a housewife who has just spotted a rat. When a hand suddenly perches on your shoulder, you swirl around to smack it off. The pictures fall down when your back collides with the cabinet. "Don't touch me! Get the fuck away!" 

The mixture of Aoi’s shrill cries and Mikaela’s multiple calls increase the degree of your headache to the point where you start feeling a screwdriver drilling holes on your forehead.

Your fingers curl around your ears as if they had threatened to fall off should you let them go. "Shut up!" you shriek. 

The room starts to spin. Your sobs get caught up in your throat and you lose the ability to breathe. 

Someone is shaking you from the shoulders, repeating your name one and many times like a desperate spiel to the divine gods. It drives you mad with desperation. You want solitude. You need space and silence. 

Karkodan . You've never wished for your demon as badly as you do now. Karkodan, please, tell me you know what’s happening. 

Like heck do I know , he answers not a second later, and the fact he's never been this serious only fuels your worries. But I can at least tell you that something about this place has triggered your memories out of order. 

What is that supposed to mean? 

Your partner appears in the form of a snake after a single blink of eyes, and your previous surroundings have morphed into endless depths of pure white. 

"That there are voids in the timeline of your past." The echo of his deep voice resonates across the room in spite of his sealed mouth. Only a forked tongue slips out every now and then. "There are blank spaces that weren't there before. Seems to me that your brain suffered some kind of trauma at some point and filled these voids with memories that don't add up to your present. 

"And why didn't you tell me any of this before?!" The composure you usually keep while in the presence of your annoying demon is of no importance to you at the moment. If anything, you want him to know how serious you are about the topic.

"You keep forgetting I can only see what you see." The tone of your demon's voice sounds fitting for an eye roll. "I can only tell you this much because you've awoken it yourself." 

"You're still not making any sense!"

"Since I only share your ignorance on the subject, there isn't much I can do to help even if I wanted to." He watches as you pace back and forth with a hand on your chin. It amuses him until you start cursing and weeping with the pitch of a newborn. "Oh, please, you're overreacting. Shut your trap, already." 

"Not that I would expect a demon to understand, but finding out that the past you thought you had is not really what you thought you had is a fucking big deal!" You drag your hands down your face. "Maybe that girl and I look alike by mere coincidence—oh wait, but that wouldn't explain what drew me to the house in the first place, and why I have memories that don't add up anymore. I just know something is wrong. Are the parents I thought I had even real? But I’ve been visiting their graves for years now!" 

"Are you done?"

"No."

"I wasn't even listening, so don't bother. Save your rants for someone who may care." He shuts his eyes with visible pressure and lightly shakes his head. "Damn, it's been hours and that child hasn't stopped crying. Do us all a favor and wake up, will you?"

Your brow jerks up. "Aoi?" 

"Your vampire friend is also worried." 

The night sky welcomes you back after a single blink of eyes, and you find some comfort from mindlessly staring at the mass of white sparkles. It's been a while since you last saw this many. There isn't much stargazing the city can offer because of the lights. 

Your brain catches up faster than the drowsiness you were waiting to shake off, and you sit up in a single jerk. A soft breeze cools the sweat on your temples, and after a quick scan of your surroundings, you realize you're outdoors, crammed in between some trees to avoid detection. 

"Sensei, you're awake!" Aoi celebrates a little too loudly for your comfort. You catch her in your arms as she tackles your chest. "I was so scared! Please, don't do that again!"

You move your hand down her back in soft strides and then pry her off with the same gentle motions to get a better look at her face. The bloodshot eyes are a suggestive sign of all the hours she must have cried.

"I know," you sigh, though the airy sound is anything but relieved. "I'm really sorry, Aoi."

Following your reply, a water bottle is shoved into your field of vision. You drag your eyes along the arm and eventually lock them with a pair of red irises, which can't help but show ease in spite of the emotionless appearance they're evidently trying to keep.

You accept the water bottle without much response save for the brief nod you give him as thanks. Your dominant hand struggles with the cap, for it is still shaking, and you have to use more than normal amounts of effort to twist it open. You chug down half its contents with the gracefulness of a parched homeless and then wipe the sleeve of your shirt over your mouth to get rid of the dampness. 

"How deep into the night are we?" you ask him.

"It's late."

You know better than to expect further elaboration. In synthesis, you've slept through the day, and it's hard to tell whether Mikaela is bothered by that or not. Who the heck are you to be forcing Yuichiro to wait yet another day apart from his dear brother?  The poor thing is probably bound by chains to a wall and being tortured by Shinoa’s group, or so the vampire might say with habitual exaggeration. 

"Here!" Aoi chirps with enthusiasm, breaking you out of your thoughts. "It's for you, so you can feel better!"

"Oh!" Your brain goes into overdrive in the next few seconds. "It's, um… a rock!" 

You accept the gift in your hand and inspect its shape in case there's anything special you might have missed, but nothing’s out of the ordinary. It’s just a rock.

"A rock that’s shaped like a heart!" she says, then ponders on that thought for a moment. "Kinda. Maybe… I think?"

You crack a genuine grin. "Yeah, I think I see it. Thanks, Aoi." 

Mikaela is the next to speak. He's seated across from you on a log. "She wouldn't go to sleep without making sure you woke up first." 

Cue for ‘make her go to sleep already so we can talk’.

A little oil lamp illuminates the open space that separates you from Mikaela. It's like the three of you are cloaked in a bubble of light, shielded from the darkness of the forest. The jeep isn’t in sight, so it must be parked a distance away. 

"Is that so?" You ruffle the child's hair. There's no way you can get it any messier than it already is. "Well, since I'm okay now, it's your turn to get a bit of shut eye, alright? Mikaela and I will take it from here." 

She nods. "Okay! But promise me you won't do anything scary again."

"I pinky promise you I won’t." 

Aoi dives into the only available sleeping bag and exhales a sigh that reveals she's on her way to relaxation at long last. 

Mikaela doesn't speak a word, and you figure he's either staying silent to let the child rest, or planning to hit you up with an interrogation as soon as she’s knocked out. It might be a bit of both.

You wait for her breathing to turn light and serene before striking up a conversation yourself. 

"How far are we from…?" 

You can't even bring yourself to mention that place. 

"Far enough.”

You nod mostly to yourself. Your arms are locked below your chest in an embrace that hopes to comfort you and keep the soft chill of the night at bay. Mikaela isn't saying anything else, and you can only guess he's waiting for you to take initiative.

Ever the generous kind. 

"About what happened back there..." you trail off. Your voice is airy and a bit strained. "I swear I’m just as clueless."

Still no answer, though he appears to be pondering much more than emptily staring at the oil lamp.

Eventually, you add, "Did you see the photo?"

"I did."

"And?" You pause for a moment. The saliva you swallow claws at your parched throat. "What do you think?"

"She does look a lot like you." He doesn't beat around the bush with his answer, which you can sort of appreciate. Sometimes, it's better to have the facts delivered to you straight as they are. The world doesn't normally offer anything better, either way. 

"Yeah," you huff out. "Except I have no memory of basically anything save for the fact something just clicked in my head when you coincidentally drove by that house. I know it sounds crazy, but I have this… feeling that there's more to me that I don't know yet."

"And you might be right about that. I scouted the place while Aoi waited with you in the car." Finally, he moves his stare over to you, though the seriousness it bears is anything but comforting. "It was an orphanage… or so they wanted to make you think."

"Wait, what? An orphanage?"

"But those kids were actually the test subjects of various experimentations." 

"Hold on a minute."

"One of which was the Seraph of the End." 

You gawk at him like he has grown a third eye on his forehead. Nothing comes out of your parted lips until you practically force the words out from your throat. 

"What makes you this sure?" comes out so low the wind could have carried it away.

"Because I've seen everything myself. The vampires were ordered to destroy these laboratories a couple of years ago. They were scattered across Japan, and they are the reason why the world ended in 2012. The virus that killed more than half the population was a direct result of these experimentations." 

"Okay… okay. I already knew bits and pieces about that from the time you decided to enlighten us with your knowledge."  You try to organize your thoughts in the extra pause you take, but to absolutely no avail. "I'm still trying to understand what the fuck does any of that have to do with me. As far as I knew, I had parents before the apocalypse. Nothing of what you're saying clicks. Everything’s a blur." 

"In the supposed case that you were raised there, it's possible to assume the reason behind your memory loss is linked to the experimentation that was done on you."

Well, fuck.

It's likely that Mikaela has seen your thoughts and feelings displayed on your face because it doesn't take him long to add, "It's only a guess. I could be wrong." 

"Yes, but you could also be right," you murmur. Your eyes flip around the campsite for nothing in particular. It's like you're suddenly disoriented. "You and Yuichiro were raised in one of those orphanages, right? Is that why he's part demon now?"

"And why the humans are after him." 

You feel like pulling out your hair, but you cling to the sliver of composure for Aoi's sake. "Okay, okay. Well, Guren and the Hiragis couldn’t give less of a shit about me, so maybe I'm still normal… or as normal as I can get. They'd be chasing after me like starved wolves if I had something they wanted, right?" 

"Technically, yes." 

You raise your hand to stop him from elaborating anything else. "That answer will do for now. My brain can only handle so much in one day and, to be honest, I'd rather throw this topic to the back corner while I still have that luxury."

"I advise that you don't take this so lightly. No one involved with the Hyakuya Sect is free from the consequences." 

Okay, his sincerity is no longer of much help. He doesn't seem to have even a brief concept of what sugar coating is. 

"Just think about it," he says. "You're a soldier from the Imperial Demon Army, an organization that has been messing with the Seraph gene without letting anyone know. It's not a coincidence that Yuu was recruited by that Guren person. Can you say the same about yourself?"

Well, fuck. Guren did practically give you a free pass to join the army when you first met him, and it was only less than a week later that you stopped by the doors of the Moon Demon Company like the idiot child you were. Hell, you had no clue of what his name was at the time. How you found him so easily, you have no idea. 

Was that meeting on purpose? If so, he has praisable acting skills. 

The air you take doesn't reach your lungs anymore. You move your hand, but end up unintentionally smacking yourself on the chest. "Haha, oh God, I can't breathe again. How fun." 

Some kind of look on your face must have convinced Mikaela of trekking over to your side. He scoots closer and awkwardly pats your back. It barely helps, but you can still appreciate the feeling in spite of the panic that's rising from the depths of your diaphragm.

"Hey, it's okay," he says for lack of a better thought in mind. 

You flip your head in his direction. Your nose could bump with his should you steer an inch closer. "No, don't lie to me. We both know it's definitely not okay. Everything I knew about myself was trimmed to shreds in a matter of hours, and now you're telling me there's a slim chance I could have a dorman power or monster or demon inside me. No, of course I'm not okay! In fact, I haven't felt this lost and scared since 2012!"

He pulls you in for a hug with the speed and precision only a vampire possesses, and whatever else you had intended to say douses on your tongue. The sudden surprise helps you calm down, and it’s only after the air has filled your head that you realize you had risked waking Aoi with yet another scare.

Maybe he’s only holding you like this for her sake. 

Whatever his intentions, you haven't received any form of physical comfort in a long while, so you accept it without struggle. Even though his body's as cold as ever, this gesture hits the spot just right. It's how it has always been with Mikaela. Somehow, he finds a way to give you the contact no human has ever given you before.

Your recent feelings could have something to do with that, too. 

His shoulder is... really comfortable. Much more than a pillow of feathers. 

"It's okay," he repeats, more certain of it than the first time. "Because you don't have to go through this alone. I understand you better than anyone. I have been there before." 

Something tickles the walls of your stomach. It's not the most pleasant feeling in the world, but it also makes you feel all fuzzy and warm inside. 

"What if I'm not a Hyakuya and it's just me being crazy?" 

"I would still be there for you." 

Your heart leaps to your throat. 

"Why?"

He holds you closer to his chest, to the point where not even a needle could pass through. 

"Because you're always there when I need it." His warm breaths hit the side of your head, and you feel the touch of his lips as well. "Even if you don't realize it yourself."

Chapter Text

The cold stone presses against your back the more you push into it, yet you still insist on the action despite knowing there's no way the wall will swallow you away from danger. The dress of shadows isn’t enough protection, for you hear the click of heels drawing near, straight to you. 

Screaming is not an option. Even so, there's no way a sliver of voice could get past the clog of air that's stuck in your throat. You're defenseless, frightened, still too small and inexperienced to counter the shit this world has to throw in your direction. 

Any attempt will be futile, but your instincts are ruling over with an iron fist, and they have you thrashing around. 

The clicks on the pavement come to a stop when a man appears beneath the only available street lamp. Basking under the yellow light, a pair of purple eyes stand out as his most unique feature. He's older than you, though not fully an adult yet. Incredible levels of power emanate from the dignified stance he bears, and there are threatening vibes gushing out of the blade that hangs at his waist. Sheer maturity holds his face together. 

You don't know whether to be reassured by the fact he’s human, or scared shitless because he's a stranger with a weapon. Not like you have the option of choosing what's best. 

The echoes of a voice make it into the alleyway. "Gureeen," it calls with a whiny pitch, a touch too childish, too. "Come on, Guren. Where are you? I don't think right now's the time to play hide and seek."

You figure the man in front of you must be Guren. He recoils upon hearing the sound of his name as if the call stung his ears, and the glare he throws behind his shoulder bears all of the emotions he did not show at the start.

Looking at his face, however, you realize it doesn't seem like the kind of expression one would aim at their enemy, but rather, at an exasperating friend one cares about in spite of their bullshit. 

"Ah, here you are," that childish voice of bright color speaks again, this time much clearer. "You lost the game. Can we go back now?”

"You're being too loud, Shinya. Shut up," he grunts his reply.

A head of white hair slips into the light, right beside Guren. His round eyes carry an entire ocean for irises. By appearance alone, he gives out a far more majestic aura than Guren, his only flaw being the personality not fit for his age. 

"How mean, Guren," Shinya's cheeks puff out like balloons as he whines with the energy of a child speaking to their older brother. You would have believed that to be the case if it wasn't for the striking differences between their appearances.  

"And here I thought you'd be glad to see me," he continues with a free spirit, palms raised skyward as he shrugs nonchalantly. "Considering I just saved your ass—oh!" Thin lines of brows perk up. There's genuine surprise and curiosity. The lack of a frown is rather reassuring considering the deadpan face Guren has offered. "A child. What is she doing here?" 

Nothing guarantees they could mean well, but your choices are limited as they are and you can't afford to be picky. Shinya has a sword clinging to his waist as well. You figure the pair should know a thing or two about fighting. If such is the case, then maybe they can give you protection. 

You dare to take your shot while the doubt is cast aside. "Please." Your vocal chords use up most of their energy and manage a hoarse voice. "Help me. They're after me."

With a step in your direction, Shinya bends down to initiate better eye contact. The seriousness tensing his face has transformed him into a new person. "Who's after you?" 

Your lips stay open with the words trapped in your throat. You were sure you knew, but as you're trying to remember, the fog inside your brain keeps thickening. 

Someone's after you, that much you know. The adrenaline spurred on by absolute fear runs through your veins, and you feel the cold chill of an unprotected back. You’re an open target ready to be shot. 

Question is, who wants you? And why? 

You sit up in one sharp motion with a pounding headache, the questions still fresh in your mouth. Once again, you're cold with the remnants of sweat stuck to your skin and clothes, barely rested from yesterday's events. 

Not a second after confirming you're right where you fell asleep last night and not on some random alleyway with a younger version of yourself and your superiors, you dash to your feet and scramble away from the camp, toppling over your own steps as you go. 

"What…?" you murmur one and many times with a wandering gaze. 

Guren. Shinya. Either you created younger versions of them by mere assumption, or have actually met them in the past. If so, chances are Guren has been lying to you all this time. And that your recruitment was by no means an accident. 

Have you been experimented on by him, too? The man you so deeply admired. Why are you having these dreams now? How easier would it be to be called crazy. You'd be much happier hearing you belong in a mental institute than having someone say you're speaking actual facts. 

Considering the state of the world you live in, all is very possible. You've seen demons, angels and a talking snake. What's some brainwashing added to the mix? A day at the beach sounds less probable than all of the above. 

Your lungs are starting to burn again. The air feels like fire in your throat. 

Then, you hear your name. The tender voice that dresses it holds you in place, as do the arms going around you to pull you close. 

"It's okay." Mikaela's whisper has the effect of a mother's hushed hymn to her child, and you give out on his shoulder with abandon. He stumbles back in his surprise, but immediately stabilizes with a stronger display of resolve in the way his arms hold you. He pulls you flush to his chest, forcing your legs a step forward that you take without hesitation. 

Now a tad more serene, you scan your surroundings for the first time. 

The sun outshines the paleness of a cloudless sky; it’s stuck to it like a beautiful sticker on blue paper. The soft wind slices through the silence and mixes in with the chirp of the birds. Nature itself is telling you there’s no reason to be this anxious. A new and shiny day has risen from the darkness. 

"It's okay," he repeats. A hand at the back of your head keeps your cheek pressed to his shoulder, and you get a whiff of the scent his exposed neck emanates. "It was just a dream."

Your brain activates once again. The brief moment of tranquility passes and becomes tension in your muscles. "No. I don't think it was." You take your head from his shoulder to find home in his calm gaze. "I saw a younger version of me and… of Guren, too. I think I knew him before the apocalypse, but I'm not sure. What if you're right, though? Maybe Guren does have something to do with everything that's happening to me, after all." You drop your gaze. The sadness touching your face is also making knots in your chest. "Maybe I was a failed experiment and he moved on to Yuichiro next."

The man who welcomed you in; who offered you a path toward the future. The only father figure in your teenage years. Your mentor. A good friend. He, who chanted about family and trust like a prayer to the gods, has been nothing more than a monster in disguise. The Moon Demon Company was never a home. It was a toy box. And Guren the puppeteer in control of his little toy army.

You cling to your hair like it was your only salvation. "Damn it, damn it all! Fuck him! Why can't he mind his own business and leave us alone?!" 

There's no guarantee your dream was a hundred percent accurate. But one fact you're sure of is that your meeting with Guren wasn't accidental. You feel it like an instinct surging through you in electric currents. Out of every existent being in this world, your body is less likely to betray you, and it knows something doesn't fit quite right. 

"I hate him so much, fuck! What a fucking liar. Damn him!" You hiccup through your sentence, and your safest bet is to hide behind the palms of your hands before Mikaela gets a glimpse of your uncontrolled frustration. "I'm so sick and tired of this."

Once again, Mikaela offers you a safe haven in his arms. He holds you tight, helping you hide the tears on the crook of his neck. You feel his fingers lulling you to serenity with tender strokes on the back of your head. In spite of the lack of pulse and body heat, you have never felt a touch more alive than his. 

He's quiet. You know he's not good with words, but his actions express enough.

It's a memorable moment until you become aware of the faucet your runny nose has transformed into. Panic jolts your body awake as you struggle to break free from his arms. Surprisingly, he doesn't relent. It's as though he's fighting to keep you there. 

"O-okay Mikaela, thanks. You can let go, now." The words are muffled by the skin of his neck on your lips. It's embarrassing to think he might be feeling the mimic of small kisses on a section that's rather intimate. 

Nothing as important as the nose you're trying to move away, though. 

"Mikaela…" 

"I have noticed that physical touch tends to calm you down," he explains without breaking the serene demeanor of his voice. "Don't worry. I don't mind holding you like this."

Well, only his touch works its charm if you're being particularly specific, but no way in hell will you tell him that. You already have plenty of embarrassment to deal with.

"I'm uh…" You sniff the snob back into your system to prove a point and expect that Mikaela will leap off not a second later.

He pulls you closer instead. The action is soft, but the meaning behind it knocks the air out of you. "It's fine, really,” he repeats. “I want to comfort you."

You nearly choke on your own heart. 

Oh, God. He's so wholesome. Why? 

You can't find your voice anymore, so Mikaela takes the lead again. 

"Am I making you uncomfortable? If it's not helping you, then I'll let go."

You feel the tension in your muscles multiply tenfold. "That's not it…" you trail off, feeling the heat grouping on your entire face. He’s speaking in a low volume and you find it appropriate to do the same. "I just don't feel like my usual self. It's a little embarrassing, actually. I've been jumpy, and unfocused, and panicking most of the time, and now I’m bawling my eyes out."

"I'm almost certain that's the way human emotions work." He ends the sentence with a small chuckle. 

You instinctively clutch the back of his shirt, seeking the reassurance that comes with his touch. "Yeah, well, usually, I keep all that to myself, so…” you trail off again. “I…I have never been this exposed to someone." 

There's a pause where silence reigns. For a moment, you're sure he's going to let you go, but his hold on you doesn’t waver. 

Then, much too suddenly. 

"I was terrified of Pinocchio."

"Wait, what?" You can barely get the words past the grin of your lips. Your eyes look up, glimmering when he looks away rapidly. The tiny pucker of his lips makes for the most wholesome expression. You want to forever frame it on a wall.

"It was a long time ago," he justifies, evidently regretting his lack of restraint. "I was only a kid, okay?" 

"That was so random, though," you cackle. Your arms are still clinging to his back, as are his on you. "What's the reason?" 

"I was just trying to make us even," he says. "Now I regret it."

Your best guess is that he means it as in being 'open'. Though it hardly compares to your case, the sudden revelation is as valuable as discovered treasure. 

"So like Pinocchio from the movies or the books?" you laugh. "The cartoon ones have a cute face, though, come on!" 

"I think we've had enough of this conversation."

"If you're really trying to make us even, the least you can do is elaborate a bit more."

You look behind his shoulder when a moving figure catches your attention, and you spot Aoi dashing in your direction. She scarcely gives you the time to be surprised. 

"I wanna join the hug, too!" 

… 

"Hey, Aoi."

Said child pops her head in between the front seats. Her smile is of its usual width. "Yes, sensei!" 

The curve of your lips matches hers in size, though yours is dressed under a more sinister nature. You don't detach your eyes from the front view as you answer, "What do you think of Pinocchio?" 

It earns you an immediate glance from Mikaela, who sports an expression saying 'tired of your bullshit'. You pretend like you don't notice, but the pull of your grin is a clear giveaway. 

"I love that movie!" Aoi exclaims. 

"Oh, so kids do like Pinocchio, I see," you chuckle, eyes gleaming at Mikaela. 

Although he refrains from emitting an answer, neither does he look particularly pissed. The topic is left at that, since there isn't much teasing you can exert on a victim that doesn't follow through. 

It's silent for the next half an hour or so. Even though Mikaela's earlier intervention helped you calm down, you still have a stack of sleepless nights weighing down on you. Then, there's also Mikaela who can't speak a complete sentence to save his life. 

And Aoi, well… 

"Are we there yet?" The hot feeling of her breaths on your ear can only mean she's pressed to the back of your seat. You can see her head leaning out to your right. "I'm getting bored." 

"We're close by," Mikaela answers in brief. The tall buildings of a city can be seen poking out behind small hills in the distance. 

"Why are we going there?" The innocent sound hints at childish curiosity as she leaps over to Mikaela's side to address him properly. 

"Car maintenance." 

You take notice of the small movement Aoi makes with her head. "mai-te-na…?" The confusion colors her voice as much as it does her face, and you figure it's as good a time as any to take over. Mikaela is talking with the dialect of a grown up and the syntax of a caveman. 

"He means fixing the car, Aoi." The remnants of a chuckle dress your answer in light sounds. "We need to patch up a tire and fill it with air. Driving for so long has been rough on the wheels."

True to your words, the vehicle is a ghost of its past self, worn out from all ends and tattered on some sections. Had it not been a jeep, which are designed specifically for heavy traveling, there's a chance you might have been driving with half a car. Its appeal hardly leaves anything to be desired, but besides the repairs that must be done, it’s still functioning properly. 

Once inside the city, you stay in the car as per Mikaela's request, who insisted you entertain the kid as he does the heavy work. Aoi's an interesting person to be, but at times, the age factor wears you out. 

"Oh, sensei!" Her head makes an instant appearance beside you as she signals to what appears to be a toy store in the distance. The sign on top is colorless, mistreated by time and abandonment. She's leaping on her spot, restricted only by the lack of space. "Can we go there, please?" She aims her puppy eyes at you to emphasize the next, "Pretty please?" 

You return an apologetic smile. Truly, you wish the answer could be 'yes', but the risks have already been set far too high the second you parked in the gas station. A dead city will make every movement you make shine as bright as a beacon, which either vampires, the Imperial Demon Army, monsters, or all of them combined, could catch notice of without a moment's delay. 

"I'm sorry, Aoi. We can't stay here any more than necessary."

She visibly deflates, but otherwise seems to understand. That's the vibe her small nod presents despite the pucker of her lips. She sinks on the back seat and waits in silence. Her eyes mimic yours in watching Mikaela work. 

"Sensei?" 

"Yes?" 

There's a small pause before she resumes. "Do you think Mika is cute?" 

Your eyes open wide. You nearly choke on your own spit and you don't know why. Your gaze instinctively trails after the vampire. Then, as if having worked your thoughts into order, you blink out of your daze and turn to Aoi. 

"What brought that up?"

She smiles. Not her usual smile, you notice. This one's the type of sultry look you'd get from someone like Shinoa, knowing and perceptive. Too much of it for her age, actually. 

"Do you?" she repeats, barely getting the words out through the narrow entrance of her suppressed grin. 

"I don't know." You're overly skeptical. Your eyes watch her warily as though she was a caged beast. "Do you?" 

She throws her arms skyward, fingers brushing the ceiling. "Of course I do!" Her innocence seems to be back. "It's normal for girls to think boys are cute, right? I don't think it's something bad or anything. I'm only saying he's cute!" 

"I guess…"

"Do you think he's cute, too?"

"I-I guess. " You ponder on it for a second. "Yes… ? But that's it. Like you said, it's just a thought. Nothing more."

"I'm only a kid, though. It's different for adults, I think. If you say he's cute, maybe you want to be his girlfriend!" 

Cunning little… 

You'd rather leave the topic alone so it eventually dies than to emit the famous 'just friends' line no one ever buys. You're not fully certain what you have with Mikaela can even be called 'friendship'. It's weird and it doesn't have a name, but it works. 

To your utter surprise, by the time you drive your eyes forward, Mikaela's already staring. There's no emotion shaping his face besides deep thoughtfulness, and for a brief moment, in which you feel every bit of tension compressing your muscles and bones to near detonation, you're almost sure he heard your answer with his enhanced hearing. 

A second later, his lips are calling out your name, eyes now widened, pupils turned into slits. You see that his stare runs past you to the back window, and with sudden instincts of steel, you snatch Aoi from the seat, kick the door open and fly out of the vehicle. 

It has already been crushed to bits by a Four Horseman of John when you spin your head around. You hover over Aoi and protectively pull her close to your chest. Her cries are booming in your ears, thumped only by the louder screech of the deformed creature. 

You rise from the floor with the child in your arms. Her smaller extremities are clinging to you as would a koala to its mother, and she's shaking violently. The air of her screams vibrate on the skin of your neck. 

Mikaela has unsheathed his sword. Red vines with thorns resembling those of a rose's stem cling around his wrist, prickling the skin, and the blood it draws from him sparks the equally crimson blade to life. You trust that he will handle it. Not only are you carrying Aoi, but also the lack of sleep sucked the strength out of you in that single jump you made to get out of the car. 

The one attack on Mikaela misses. He, in turn, slashes through the air with a speed your eyes can scarcely track, and he lands effortlessly behind it. A moment later, the creature has burst into pieces. Your surroundings go quiet thereafter. 

Now should be the time to call for an emergency retreat. Except there's no ride anymore and scavenging for a new one means you will have to venture further into the city. Most vehicles can be spotted near the downtown area or malls. 

"We have to move quick," says Mikaela while sheathing his sword back to his waist. He speedwalks towards you to scan your body in case of injuries and then nods to himself with a speck of relief touching his swirling irises. He checks Aoi, too. The poor girl has her face buried in your neck and isn’t showing intentions of pulling out. The echo of her cries bounce against the nearby buildings, which can only be unfavorable to the current circumstances. 

Your impatience shows in the short and hasty way you rock her. You pat her in a similar fashion. "Come on, Aoi, it's already over. Please, calm down."

Her cries don't cease to exist. She's barely taking a breath in between sobs. You glance at Mikaela whilst keeping a constant touch on her back. Your eyes scream for immediate help. 

He looks a tad awkward as he ponders with a long gaze on Aoi. In spite of the near deadpan expression, you can envision the rotating gears sparking smoke in his brain. 

He strides closer and lands a stiff hand on her head. Two pats later, Aoi's cries finally move down the scale. 

"There, there." It's evident he tries adding a soothing essence this time around, but his voice is naturally dry and empty. 

And still, it works like a charm. 

"... my God," you huff in between low breaths. 

Girls will be girls. 

You give Aoi an extra minute to calm down before setting her back on her own two feet. You crouch down to meet her eyes and smile. The side of your hand slides beneath her bloodshots eyes to dry the remnants of tears. 

"It's okay," you say. "You're safe with us."

She wipes a lid dry with her knuckles and nods. The smile tugging at her lips is faint, but real nonetheless. 

You check for injuries a final time and move up, hand ruffling her head for a brief second before you turn to Mikaela. "Now what?" 

"We hunt for the nearest car and get the hell out of here," he says back, his stare as hard as stone as he takes a step past you, marking a direction for you to follow. 

"Right." You wait for Aoi to walk after Mikaela so you can watch her from behind. She'll be under better protection then. 

You can still hear her sniffing. Although she has quieted down for the most part, she's not any less calm. It's further proof of why she shouldn't be here. You vow to protect her, but the absolute truth is that she's never truly safe, not even with capable people such as yourself and Mikaela. The battlefield is no place for a child and the faster you find a village to drop her at, the better she'll fare. 

Aoi almost runs into Mikaela after he has suddenly stopped, and your instincts fire away with complete alertness. You stiffen and take a stance of preparation for battle. 

"What is it?" With the breath you hitch, Aoi cowers away behind your legs. 

"No, no. It's nothing, I'm sorry," he answers immediately. You wait for further elaboration, but he's silent, thinking rather deeply. His stare is glued to the floor. 

"What?" you inquire a little impatiently. 

"Aoi," he refers to the child instead. "Do you want to go to the toy store?"

She skids right back to Mikaela. The air of her excited gasp accompanies her response. "Can we, really?!" 

"Yes."

You shove your hands forward in a form of gesture that begs for a pause. "Wait, wait. Weren't we supposed to, quote: 'Get the hell out of here?'"

"There's no sound or scent nearby. We're on our own."

That is all the reassurance Aoi needs. She skips on her spot and dashes towards the store. 

Mikaela keeps a watchful eye on her as you cut the distance between you short for a serious talk. 

"Um… the hell are you doing? Did you already forget what happened the last time we were in a city?" 

"I know we're risking a lot." He falls quiet for a second, as if weighing down the severity of what he just said, but he retakes his words with small bits of conviction. "... I just thought Aoi could use some time to relax. She's been through a lot."

You blink, knowing he's right. From the moment she lost the one boy taking care of her, her life has spiraled out of course. She doesn't have a family and it's not even guaranteed whether she'll be accepted into whatever village you come across. She's in constant danger, has moved from one scare to another. Her smiles and giggles are an amazing feat, actually. Any other child would have sunken into depression.

On a less important note, having some toys around could mean you won't have to continue pulling games out of your ass to entertain her. 

Mikaela can be quite the softie when he puts some will into it. It's rather charming. 

"I'll keep my senses sharp," he adds for extra reassurance, mostly directed at himself, you can tell. Making this decision has been a sacrifice to Mikaela. 

You compliment his idea with a smile. "It's okay. If it comes down to it, I'll help you out. We're in this together until the end."

Once inside the store, Mikaela steals a whiff of the air before granting Aoi the green light to do as she pleases. There is not a soul in sight save for the three of you, fortunately. 

You hand Aoi a backpack you grabbed from a pile of items by the entrance. "You can fill it to the brim with toys," you tell her. "Just make sure it's easy to carry around, so nothing too heavy, alright?" 

"Okay!" She gets lost within one of the aisles in a matter of seconds, drawing a gleeful chuckle out of you. 

Mikaela stops by your side. His eyes follow after Aoi. The tension on his face reveals he has lined his senses to absolute focus. "We can only afford five minutes at most."

You nod to state your approval. "I'll go get her when it's time to go."

You wander near the cash register while Mikaela stands guard by the door. Nothing catches your interest as much as the pile of stuffed toys you eventually spot lying on a table against the wall. One plushy in particular tempts you with mischievous intent. 

Less than a minute later, you've traveled to and from the tower of toys, over to the vampire's side. "Hey, Mikaela." 

With a quick turn of his head, he almost gets his nose buried into the pinocchio doll you shove to his face. You give life to it like a puppeteer on their best show. 

"I'm a real boy," you quote with a purposely hoarse voice. 

Mikaela sighs without much reaction. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"Oh, look, look!" you continue with the spirit of a child. The pads of your fingers close around the nose and you pull it out. The length of it nearly pokes Mikaela in the eye. 

His brows are slightly perked. "Okay, that is creepy. Stop."

You break into a fit of laughter. You love this side of Mikaela. The hidden parts of him make him a bit human. It makes you greedy for more, and you can't help but envy that Yuichiro has most likely seen it all. You want to see it, too. His childish side. His happy side. More kindness. Much more smiles. 

Like the kind he's showing right now in spite of your teasing. You feel a bit awkward, but you do not hesitate in returning the gesture. 

It's a nice exchange, a frozen moment of genuine peace that you would have loved to experience a bit longer had it not been for the engine that suddenly blares just outside of the doors, forcing you back into the state of survival you’re so tired of keeping. 

You and Mikaela spin towards the entrance simultaneously. "Shit," comes out in a chorus.

"I'll go get Aoi." He has already dashed to the back of the store before the completion of his sentence. 

Meanwhile, you take your curse gear out and cautiously trek after the doors of glass. With your back pressed to the wall, you lean out just enough to steal a peek of the movement outside. Your heart pounds with the strength to carve a hole in your chest, and you almost gasp when the leftover wind of Mikaela's speedy return blows softly on your skin and hair. Aoi is cradled in his arms, backpack hanging from his forearm. 

"What's the situation?" he asks. 

"A car has parked outside." You turn your attention to said vehicle; a black truck. The people inside are barely visible, but you know those uniforms like the creases on the palm of your hand. Those dark colors belong to the Japanese Imperial Demon Army only. 

"Oh, great," you murmur. Surely, Mikaela has seen it, too. "We're fucked."

"Let's run to the back. We can escape through one of the windows."

You fling your hand in his direction. "Wait."

It's kind of a long shot, but what if…?

A familiar mop of purple hair comes out of the passenger seat. She takes a couple of steps away from the truck, eyes wandering around with cautious aura. The head of a key pops out of her fist. Her curse gear. 

"No way," you murmur with hardly any air in your system. "It's actually her. Shinoa!"

She flinches when the door to the toy store bursts open, your presence now in plain sight. Her eyes acquire a sparkle not once seen in her as she trots in your direction. 

"You guys!" she exclaims with visible relief. "We finally found you!" 

You stop a foot away from each other. Your smile mirrors hers. Every feeling and thought is out in the air for display. It feels great to be reunited. Surviving has been a real struggle with the lack of members in your group. 

"How did you–?" 

Mikaela runs over your sentence with a question of his own. "Where's Yuu? How is he?" 

He doesn't even have the child in his arms anymore. You look over your shoulder and find Aoi hiding behind a pillar. 

Shinoa's face loses its sparkle. You can tell she doesn't want to deliver whatever news she has in store. 

"Well…" she begins. "Yuu isn't doing so well."

Chapter Text

"Mika, you came back to me. I knew you would."

A sultry undertone paints his voice in dark colors. Save for the pointy horns poking out of his head and the red eyes, there are still traces of the familiar boy left, though he’s mostly an empty carcass at this point because it’s the thing inside him that’s rotten. 

It’s a demon disguised in the body of Yuichiro. 

"He's been like this for at least an hour," Shinoa explains, her eyes trained on yours. You can tell she wants to escape the sight of Yuichiro for as long as possible. Her posture is as dignified as the pitch she's trying to keep steady, but you spot a notable crack in the mild tremble of the hands she keeps clutched behind her. "It started when he first transformed by accident while fighting off the Imperial Demon Army. Since then, he's been converting into a demon almost daily."

The creature pulls at the shackles that are keeping him seated against the wall from the wrists and ankles. Considering it’s the strength of a supernatural creature, you're surprised he has yet to split the chains in half. Shinoa must have used magic or a special talisman for that.

"Mika, please," he purrs. The name dances in a mellow tone and you feel your ears rejecting the sound. "Unshackle me so we can escape together like you always wanted. Just the two of us, I promise. These humans…" The nature of his face does a one eighty when those red eyes land a piercing glare on both you and Shinoa. There's not a trace of the sweetness that was directed at Mikaela; a look you had wanted to gag at, either way. "They've been abusing me. Please, Mika, I need you to release these chains. It hurts so much."

Your knuckles are iching to land a punch on that mouth. You know this is not Yuichiro, but that fact does not influence your desire to break some teeth. 

The demon is provoking Mikaela, and you're really skeptical about the latter's will to resist such temptations. Every human in possession of a curse gear deals with situations of similar kind on a daily basis, but vampires do not. It doesn't matter if Mikaela knows Yuichiro isn’t the one talking. If the demon hits a weak spot, there’s a possibility Mikaela could turn against you all and do the unthinkable. 

You aim a pair of wary eyes in his direction. In the time you take to study his abnormally neutral expression, scarcely any air is getting to your lungs. All of your focus has gone to your sense of sight. You're trying to locate his eyes behind the curtains of blond hair, but the angle of his head leaves no room for even the slightest peek. 

The anxiety feels real this time around. 

"Mikaela?" you call him with a sound of insecurity you didn't know your voice could possess. Even your posture communicates a similar emotion. Your fingers are nervously twitching beneath your folded arms. "... hey."

His fangs come out as he clenches his teeth. Whatever he’s thinking is anyone’s guess until the slight shift of his head pushes the dark gleam of his eyes into view. Instead of heeding your call, however, he's glaring missiles in Shinoa's direction. 

"This all happened because of the experimentation you, humans, have been doing on him." Not once have you heard a growl so potent be worn by Mikaela's usually stoic voice. "This is all your doing. And you dare to call yourselves his family."

Even though you're automatically put off by this version of Mikaela, there's notable effort placed in the tone you're trying your best to keep soothing. "Calm down. You can't go off blaming every human you see without the facts to back it up." You don't feel like he's listening. His eyes aren't facing your direction. It's a little irking, actually. "Hey," you repeat, much more authoritative than before. "Earth calling Mikaela. Are you yourself right now or–?" 

When his stare finally catches yours, it's not in the way you were expecting. An intimidating glare has transformed the shade of his irises. What used to be beautiful velvet has turned into crimson blood. A color that spells out death right to your face. 

"Shut up," he demands. "I know damn well who the enemy is. It’s the humans." 

You dismiss the unwarranted glare of despicable nature, and the growl drilling into your ears. You don't give a damn about the disrespect that under different circumstances would have disrupted the dormant beast in you. Hell, even your jealousy drops to secondary level in comparison to what is really making your blood boil. 

"You, fucking. I… " A sigh doesn't let you finish. Not that you had the words to complete your sentence. If Mikaela is reverting back to the prior version of himself and treating you like a stranger who didn't just cross half a region with him, you figure it’s only fair to return the favor. 

But you can't. And you definitely don't want to pretend it never happened, or that you don't care. 

You just want your old Mikaela back. The smiles. The laughs. Those warm hugs. Where did all of that go? 

It seems the feelings you have on your face do enough to draw his attention to you this time around, but you don't bother to return the look. Partly because you're pissed at him and partly because you don't want him to see how much his actions have truly affected you. 

That journey with him. It has definitely changed you. Your attitude. Your points of view. He taught you patience and understanding. Because of him, you've learned to embrace your emotions a bit more.

You changed nothing in him, apparently. 

And the more you dwell on it, the more you realize there's no way anything will ever come close to the importance his heart gives to Yuichiro.

Shinoa catches on to the density of the atmosphere and intervenes with a pitch that escalates unnaturally high. "It's okay, Mikaela! I understand you have many reasons to be skeptical of us, but we will prove to you that we're different. You’ll see!"

You're starting to feel like a deer in the headlights the longer his attention stays devoted only to you. Pride keeps you from detaching your glare from the wall, but a part of you finds some relief in thinking he could be reflecting about his choice of actions. 

"H-huh?" 

Then, you hear that voice, and the nature of it sounds much closer to something actual Yuichiro would say. 

"What's going on? Is it lunchtime yet?" His lashes flap like butterfly wings. A couple of extra seconds and realization smacks his face with a mixture of thoughts and memories. "Oh, I must have transformed into a demon again.”

He appears to be unaware of the people he has for an audience until he sticks his head to the wall and looks up. The long stare he stamps on Mikaela transforms the opaque green of his irises into round gems of glimmering sapphire. 

"Mika!" he exclaims. So brief, yet it communicates more than he can physically show.

As easy as it had come, Mikaela's attention leaves you for Yuichiro.

"Hey, Yuu." He's calm. Smiling, even. 

And none of that has anything to do with you. 

There's a string of fate keeping them connected. One that the highest quality of scissors can't cut. Not the strongest cursed weapon. Not even Heaven or Hell. 

You know better than to meddle with something of such caliber. 

Meanwhile, Shinoa clasps her hands together, glee marking her voice. "Welcome back, Yuu!" 

"Hey," he replies amidst chuckles. "It's good to be back."

You feel his intent stare burning holes on your back as you reach the exit, which eventually drags all pairs of eyes in your direction, and almost too easily, enough to churn your stomach into tight knots, he says, "It's so good to see you! I'm glad you're doing okay."

It takes all of your willpower to keep those middle fingers tucked inside your fists. Your lips remain sealed. 

Shinoa then adds to the conversation with, "Where are you going?" 

"... sleep."

You're out of the hut before they can question you further. The sunrays hit you square in the face, so you block the light with your hand to let your eyes get adjusted.

There are more huts scattered around, forming half a circle around you. The contrast between the city you just left behind and this lonesome village deep within the mountains is quite striking. The landscapes are grassy and full of vegetation. The wind feels fresh on your face. Much cleaner, too. It's as if you've traveled back in time to the era where native tribes were common.

Ever since the apocalypse, the human race has had no choice but to take a step back from evolution. The smart ones, at least, because the Imperial Demon Army has evidently not stopped experimenting with forbidden shit despite the warning sent by the gods who destroyed the world in 2012. 

This small group of people did well in staying away from the commotion. The city is much simpler in terms of commodities, but it can't compare to the peace that's found in the countryside. 

It’s the perfect home for Aoi to stay at. This quiet lifestyle will keep her away from danger. 

You stop to look at her from afar. She's already settled in and sharing some toys with her new peers. It’s nice to see the spark of joy alive in her eyes once again. The villagers are nice people, and they will keep her happy.

As for you and Shinoa's group, loitering around in exchange for protection turned out to be a good enough bargain for the inhabitants here. According to what Shinoa told you, creatures like the Four Horsemen of John tend to make an appearance every now and then. She never mentioned anything about having a vampire in the group, but you’re sure Yuichiro can convince the villagers on his own. 

"You made it back."

Despite having been a while since you last heard that gruffy voice, you still recognize it all too well. 

"What's up, Shit-zuki." You wave your hand casually as he draws near. "Missed me?" 

"I was having a hard time believing Makoto when he told me you were back, so I came to see for myself." 

"Yeah, well, you can't get rid of me that easily, it seems."

"It's good to have you back," he assures with a nod for bigger emphasis, though one can hardly guess what he's thinking behind the emotionless mask he carries for a face. "You've had better days, for the looks of it."

"Geez, thanks, I needed that." You walk past him, pretending to be done with him when in reality you want to avoid giving him a front row seat to the shit that is your face. "It's not like we had showers and sleeping bags and a full banquet at our disposal… of course I've had better days." You're aware of your tone. It would be easier to fault the rough journey you just concluded for impulsing your behavior, but you're really just irked at what went down with Mikaela. 

"I'm sorry," answers Kimizuki. There is regret shaping the sound of his words in ways you've never heard from him before. For a moment, you even feel kind of guilty for aiming your ill emotions at the wrong person. "It was because of my poor judgment that you got separated from us. We shouldn't have split in the first place."

You halt to display your chill expression in his direction, proving you hold no grudges for what happened. "It's okay, really. All of us should have known better. We wanted that generator so badly that we forgot to take the necessary precautions. But I'm fine. Mikaela helped me out, too."

"Doesn't seem like he helped out much," he comments. With the brow that is perked above his scrutinizing glare, one would think he's a parent judging their child for coming home late from a party. That look he's giving you, though, doesn't appear to be directed at you anymore than it is at Mikaela. 

You lean your head slightly to the side. "What do you mean?" 

He taps the side of his neck with two fingers as his only answer, and you come to realize that the fang marks must still be there, dressed in the afterglow of dry blood and irritated skin. 

When your palm lands an accidental smack on the mentioned area, you have to swallow down an instinctual whine. "Oh…" you trail off, scouting for words in your brain. "I'm fine, though."

"You look anemic."

You click your tongue. "Anemic? I think you're exaggerating a little." The scowl you have on your face isn't a hundred percent genuine, though. You know blood loss must be the reason why you've been so tired lately—besides the whole other lot of shit you’ve been dealing with, of course. 

"You're pale, tired, much, much thinner. You're moody, though that isn't anything new but still… in synthesis, you look like shit." He stalks closer to you with the nonchalance of someone who didn't just demolish you alive with a degrading speech about your appearance, and you feel tempted to smack the hand that raises above you. Your intentions freeze, however, when his open palm lands on your head with a tender pat that’s so unlike him. His lips are far from curving a smile, but the resting frown on his face is gone for the most part. "I'll cook you something. You need to eat if you want to get better. Freshen up and rest in the meantime. I'll call you once it's done."

You feel all kinds of awkward as your eyes face the far front, opened a little wider than usual. "...thank you, I guess."

Both Shinoa and Kimizuki have been welcoming after your return. Makoto wouldn't stop looking at you through the rear view mirror on the way back to ask how you were feeling. Yoichi had enough balls to tackle you into a suffocating embrace as soon as you set a foot down on the ground, and Mitsuba, despite being less physical and verbal, openly displayed her relief as well. 

They genuinely care. 

Well, they're infamous for being sugary to the point of tiring you out, what with their obsession over the concept of ‘family’ and 'friendship is magic'. 

Still, the thing is they really, really do care. As if they’ve already made you part of their family even though you've stated many times before that you're only passing by. 

It's a nice feeling you might need to stay away from. You know Karkodan is watching with keen eyes whenever a layer is peeled off from your many facades. 

For now, a break is what you need the most. 

You don’t realize you’ve been a walking conveyor of filth until you start seeing everything you forcefully scrub off your skin piling up into a mush by your feet. Already, you start envisioning a pissed-off Kimizuki bitching about the clogged drain, and despite thinking you can sweep off the mess yourself, your legs only last until you've dressed and made it to the bed before they become deadweight. 

Consciousness gives out afterwards and you stay knocked out for the next five hours to come. 

You wake up mid afternoon to the light of the setting sun on your face. The soreness has settled in on your body, not helping you feel any less tired, but if what Kimizuki said is true, then it must be an aftereffect of the missing blood cells in your body. 

Surprisingly, the embodiment of domestic services himself hasn't come up to wake you up. He either decided to let you rest, or stopped caring altogether. Your body is successfully convincing you of staying put, but a stronger sense of mindfulness for your own health eventually moves your legs out of bed. 

The entire group is seated around a bonfire, and they each stop whatever they were doing to welcome your sudden entrance. 

Shinoa takes the lead as per usual. The pull of her smile follows you on your way to one of the logs as she says, "Hey, are you feeling any better?" 

"As good as I can be," leaves you in a sigh as you plop down beside Makoto, who then scoots over to give you more space. The attention you're receiving from all pairs of eyes is a little overwhelming, but none of the stares burn as deep of a hole in your chest as the unique look of crimson color looking in your direction. 

All the more reason to gawk at the flames like they were made of silver. 

"So…" You decide to drive the scrutiny somewhere else. "What else is new?" 

"Well, there's that problem with idiot Yuu, for starters," Kimizuki intervenes with a huff. He's poking at some food with a pitchfork, which you guess will eventually go to your plate. "And also the fact that we have the most powerful organization of Japan right under our noses."

Shinoa’s elbows are propped over her thighs, keeping her hands firm on both of her cheeks. "What a way to lighten up the mood, Kimizuki," she answers with a tone that leans more towards a comical sound. "But you're right. Us being here puts the villagers in danger. We can't stay long."

You don't think of the villagers as much as you do about Aoi. Taking away her peace only hours after getting it back isn't anywhere near your wish list. The child may mourn Mikaela's absence, but she'll get over it in a day's time.

Your mind has been settled. "Let's leave tomorrow morning, then."

Kimizuki gives you a disapproving look as he hands you a plate stocked with canned proteins, rice and chopped vegetables. He props his knuckles on his waist, bearing that annoying essence of superiority he's always dead set on portraying. "Calm down, idiot. You could at least give yourself a couple of days to rest. Yoichi has been keeping watch with the eyes of his demon almost every night. The villagers are safe."

"I don't need rest." Your eyes follow him as he retreats back to his seat on the other end of the fire. "I'm fine. Stop treating me like a sick person."

"Regardless of how you feel, it's not like we can travel far while the idiot is in this state." He lands Yuichiro an expressionless glance to silently inform who he's referring to. 

Said boy merely scratches the back of his head as if embarrassed. "Yeah, sorry about that, you guys. I will do my best to train with Asuramaru and keep it under control."

"It's not your fault, Yuu," Mika steps in right after the end of the latter's sentence. He's keeping his glare focused on the fire for the most part, but the vile in his tone speaks for itself.

"But if there's something I can do about it, then it is my responsibility to try." He gives Mikaela a friendly pat on the back along with an encouraging smile. "It will all be okay because we're with family now. You'll see."

You can't have Yuichiro in a conversation without him preaching about his 'family' and 'friendship' bullshit at least once. Who the fuck introduced him to My Little Pony? You only hear that type of stuff on shows like that. 

Suddenly, the piece of broccoli has become much too interesting to eat and you're instead tossing it around the plate with your fork. 

"For now, we will stay here and offer the villagers our help in any way we can," concludes Shinoa. Her ebony eyes land on Yuichiro next. "Taking the control back from a demon can be really straining on a host both physically and mentally. That, and we also don't know what kind of demon Yuu is dealing with." She curves a smile, one that's oddly specific whenever it is directed at the boy. "I can assure you we will have your back during the process."

Yuichiro shows his pearly lines of teeth with the grin he makes. "Thanks, you guys." He gets up in one swift motion and stretches his arms skyward. A grunt leaves him as he says, "Alright then, I will go collect more wood for the fire."

The flames are notably weaker and the night isn't getting any less chilly. 

Your stare follows Yuichiro's retreat, though this time around you don't really have any ill thoughts shooting arrows at his back. You're just looking with an empty head, almost uninterestedly, even. Only when another plate is shoved into your line of vision, do you snap out of your silent ogling. 

You don't know when exactly did Kimizuki take the plate from your lap to fill it up again. Then again, your attention span hasn't been the sharpest as of lately. 

"Eat," he orders without much explanation. 

You shove it away from your face, though gently in case he mistakes your action for ungratefulness. "Thanks, but I'm already full."

"I don't remember ever asking you."

You quirk up a brow at him. "Uh… pardon? I'm in control of my own stomach, last time I checked." You're so confused your head is shaking. Your eyes express the confusion that your lips only stutter incoherently. "Besides, no one ever gets second portions. It's not fair if I only eat more than what's worth my share."

Given that Kimizuki is doing one hell of a job communicating his intentions, Shinoa saves his skin by intervening herself. "Kimizuki is just expressing concern in his own emo way," she snickers while sending a wiggle of brows in his direction. Kimizuki could have rolled his eyes to the back of his head had he tried any harder.

"You don't have to worry, though," she continues, now looking at you once again. "I actually agree with him. You need to get your strength back as soon as possible. Your cooperation is a valuable asset to the team. "

Not her as well. 

"But I'm–"

"What's wrong with her?" 

Your eyes instantaneously scoot over to Mikaela, carrying emotions you weren't even aware of feeling. The most potent one being dread. His vibrant irises flip across the group in search of answers. They then make a quick stop on yours, and he's ever so oblivious about everything that you just don't want him finding out. 

"She has lost a lot of blood, what else did you expect?" Kimizuki huffs with folded arms. "Keeping you alive has taken a toll on her body. Can't you see she's pale and tired all of the time?"

Oh my God, I want to fucking murder him. 

The stoic shell he tends to keep on his face shatters right before your eyes. He switches his attention between you and Kimizuki, as if wanting to seek confirmation from you as well. First, there's surprise, and then it morphs into pure guilt. You've never seen him be this open and vulnerable in front of many faces. 

"I'm… sorry." Even his tone has weakened, and it's like it could break should he speak any louder. 

"F-family helps each other out," adds Yoichi with a stutter. Ever the kind soul. "No matter the risks, right? I'd help anyone out and I'm sure everyone here thinks the same, so it’s okay, Mika.”

You're too busy keeping your cool together to emit an answer. Your knuckles are itching to punch Kimizuki's face. 

For better or for worse, Yuichiro's voice makes an entrance from a distance. "Hey, Mika! Help me carry these back with your superhuman strength."

Mikaela finds the perfect escape in that call and hastily gets up from his seat to give the boy some assistance. 

You also take the opportunity to drill a glare on the sole cause of this awkwardness. "You're an ass, Kimizuki. Way to go."

"I didn't say anything besides the truth.”

"It's the way you said it. Do you have even the slightest clue of how hard it was to get him to drink his fill? Mikaela never wanted to. I made him do it because he can't help it and needs the blood." You sigh, aware that you’re sounding like a lawyer in the midst of defending their most precious client. "I thought he would finally confide in others when it came to this matter, but you've just ruined all of his progress in a single night with one bullshit move. If he goes nuts with hunger in the following days, we will all know it was your fault."

You realize you're standing only because Makoto pulls you back to your seat from the wrist. "Hey," he calls. "Calm down."

You huff a hair out of your face and drag your potent glare elsewhere. The folded arms you're set on keeping awards you the look of a spoiled child on time out. 

Kimizuki isn't the least bit faced by your outburst, it seems. 

To make matters worse, Mitsuba's scoff only adds firewood to the flames. "You're all behaving like children."

You rise from the log and trek out of the campfire. "Whatever, I'm out," you mutter, mostly to yourself. With a louder tone, you add, "Goodnight."

So much for a family reunion. 

Deeper into the night, when mostly everyone has retired into their huts, you're still out in the open fields, confronting your thoughts as you stargaze. 

You’ve been so comfortable in your developing partnership with Mikaela that you nearly threw aside your initial plans, which is ditching the group when the time is right. They are but the means to another end, and definitely not the final 'sweet home' they claim to be. 

Karkodan may have been right all along. If there's anything at all rooting you to the group, it’s Mikaela. If you think about it from the mind of an adult, you're acting no different from a schoolgirl who wants to be in her crush's classroom. 

Even your mind is a mess, and you don't think it’s remotely relevant to blood loss this time around. 

You want him , Karkodan's voice echoes in your head. 

Maybe I do. 

As if under a spell, the sound of your name breaks the enchantment. Mikaela appears in front of you, flashing an authoritative look of concern your way. 

"You should be resting," he says, to which you roll your eyes. 

"Not you, too, Mikaela. I already said I'm fine."

"Of course you're not fine. You're pale and tired and sick and–" 

"Mikaela," you say again, somewhat comically to lighten up the mood. You even smack his chest with the back of your hand in a playful manner. "Don't let that bastard Shit-zuki get to you. What does he even know about health?" 

"I hadn't noticed it before, but he's right." He shakes his head, probably at some thought in the back of his head. The composure he lost at the fireplace has yet to come back. "To think that he noticed with one look and I didn't despite being by your side for so long…"

You fling your hands in a manner that expresses the need for a pause. Your eyes are wide with surprise. "Woah, woah, it's okay, Mikaela. Really, don't sweat it."

He lets some steam out with the sigh he pushes from his parted lips. His eyes close in what looks like defeat. "It's not okay… I even made you sad because of my carelessness."

You nearly choke on your own breath. "Sad? What makes you think that?" 

"I don't know," he answers genuinely. "It wouldn't be my first time doing something stupid without noticing."

Your tongue trips on its own words. You're no longer sure if he was truly being an ass before or if your feelings are nothing more than unjustified jealousy towards Yuichiro. 

Either way, he noticed you looked sad, which is not what you were going for at the start. 

"No, I–" You swallow rather loudly and drop your gaze to the ground. No words make it out and the silence gets so deep it starts ringing in your ears. 

"You didn't want me to find out," starts with the note of a question and ends like a statement. "...that you're feeling like this because I drank your blood. Why?" 

You still can't bring yourself to meet his eyes. "I…" Your lips stay sealed. Not a single answer dominates your head, and the weight of Mikaela's attention doesn't help your case. 

"You're so selfless," he sighs out. It hints at a weak rebuke, but he's otherwise not the least bit annoyed by it. 

"Except I'm not, really."

You nearly jolt when his hand curves perfectly on your left cheek. Your skin is like fire against his cool touch, and when you finally feel brave enough to welcome his gaze into your eyes, his are glowing with softness. His pupils are full moons, and they shine in stark contrast to the color of his irises. The red no longer resembles a color of blood or murder. It is the sweet red of wine and roses. 

"You are," he reassures. "You really are."

After a moment’s pause, your hand perches on the side of his face with a will of its own, and even though you’re sure he won’t flinch away from your touch, you’re definitely surprised when he further leans on your palm. 

“Do you plan on telling them about you?” he asks. 

“No, not yet.”

He nods. “I’ll stay quiet.” 

Your mind is hazy. Your heart is pounding against your chest, and the loud sound bleeds out around you both. Surprisingly, not an ounce in you gives a damn. You're just hoping he understands the words your heart is trying to convey. 

And maybe he does. You feel all of his attention solely on you. He looks at peace and emotionally bare. You do, too. 

"Mi–Mikaela, I think that I…" Your knees buckle at the last second, nerves lit on fire, and as the vampire holds you firmly to his chest, you're grateful your body stopped you from running freely with a loose mouth. After the brisk pause, your mind is finally able to catch up, and you realize how close you came to messing everything up. 

"Are you okay?" 

"Y-yeah, I, um…" You swallow down the shakiness in your voice. "I guess I'm just a bit tired."

"I can take you back to the house if you want."

You finally let loose on his chest, and your arms move around him to cling to his back with newfound confidence. "Yeah, just…" You close your eyes when his arms return the gesture. You take it as his way of telling you he doesn’t mind the contact. "Not yet."

"Okay."

You can feel the tiny shape of his smile pressing on your head.

Chapter Text

"You want me," is spoken by an impression of Mikaela's voice. "So much that you nearly confessed your feelings to me."

You don't answer. 

"I could be with you if you just asked, and you wouldn't have to feel jealous of Yuu, because I'd leave him for you."

Despite the hands that clutch together around your waist, you’re still silent and immobile. The tight hold pulls you back with a dominating thrust, bringing you into contact with the front of Mikaela's body. 

"I know you want to kiss me so badly," he whispers in your ear. "Why don't you give it a try? I won't bite."

"Shut up, Karkodan, you're doing a terrible impression just so you know."

A sinister chuckle makes his chest bounce against your back. "And yet you're still comfortably locked in my arms. Are you that desperate for attention that you'd resort to an illusion?" He makes sure to have as much of an influence in your response as possible by gently brushing his lips over the shell of your ear.

You feel the curve of his wicked, though no less charming, smile pressing on your skin. “N-no," leaves you in the form of a dreamy sigh. Your head gives out on his shoulder and your hands then raise to dive deep into his golden hair. The locks are so soft , you notice.

Following your answer and the purr Mikaela produces in turn, something shatters in the distance, like glass or porcelain, and in a single blink, the morning sun is kissing your eyes as you rise from the bed. 

Your brain is but a void filled with mist. It starts dispersing as the minutes go by, and with a sharper mind in the makings comes the realization that you almost fucked up. The years you spent keeping your demon under complete submission were nearly tossed to the garbage because of your feelings for a vampire.

Just how low have you fallen down the stairs? 

Vigorous scratching turns your hair into a wild mane. With your hands still clawing your head, you scream out to the ceiling, "Fuck you, Karkodan!" 

There's even more shuffling downstairs mixing with your growls. Either the kitchen or living room–you can’t really tell. The noise moves around in a frenzy and collides with the things in the way. 

You're almost sure it's a rat, and an abnormally giant one at that. Extermination is a must before it decides to make a nest out of the house.

You throw a proper shirt on and race down the stairs with Karkodan in your hand. No one seems to be around save for you and the rodent. Just your luck. Waking up to a tedious task wasn't how you pictured your day starting. 

You make a beeline for the noises and end up in the living room, except that instead of a rodent, you find the struggling silhouette of Mikaela in the far corner of the room. 

"Mikaela?" you say softly, not expecting to see him flinch as if his name had been shouted. "What's wrong?" 

The vampire steps back, shaking his head at what you can only guess are the thoughts in his troubled mind. "Stay away," he speaks with words the size of a whimper. His arms are outstretched, acting out as a poor shield to preserve the distance between you and him. 

Your stare trails down and stops on the shattered pieces of glass that lie on the floor in a mess of spilled water and flowers. Not too far from the broken pot, is the pedestal where you guess the flowers must have been on before Mikaela tripped over it. 

You raise your head in a flash, as if summoned by the groan he so clearly struggles to keep quiet. In spite of the face he tries to maintain neutral, both the puffs his lips can’t hold back and the unnaturally stiff pose of his body are clear giveaways of his condition. One hand clutches the middle of his chest while the other hangs stiffly on its respective side. His eyes have been aimed the furthest away from your face, but the effort of hiding isn't enough to mask the guilt and clear repulse he's feeling for himself. 

Softness immediately transforms your expression. A reassuring smile tugs at your lips softly, though you keep it light in case the gesture offends him. Mikaela tends to be rather vulnerable at times like this, after all. 

"Hey…" you say with tenderness in your voice, only to be cut off when Mikaela furiously shakes his head, denying what he hasn't even heard. At this point in the relationship, the vampire may know you so well he doesn't need to give ear to anything besides the color of your tone. "I haven't even said anything, yet,” you chuckle. 

When he shakes his head again, you start to wonder whether he's actually listening or not. If the thirst has become enough of a problem that it affects his sense of perception, then it might be worse than what you initially thought. 

You walk closer with cautious steps. To further prove your suspicions correct, he doesn't realize you're approaching him until the very moment you place a hand above the one clutching his chest. 

As expected, he shakes you off like your touch was poison and scoots backwards until the wall doesn't give him any more space to do so. The soles of his boots skate the floor in his attempt to further press against it as if the action could teletransport him outdoors. 

"I'm serious, go away!" The words trip over a fit of dry coughs. You realize the parchness must be hurting more than he’s letting on, because his next sentence is spoken in a croak. "Please… I–I can't…" His Adam's apple jumps with the saliva he swallows. He pauses for a second to recuperate and tries again. "I can't stay still. My body isn't listening to me anymore. Please, just leave."

"Do you realize what you're saying?" you rebuke while your head shifts around with the hopes that some living soul will burst through the door at any moment, but there’s absolutely no one. Not even outside the windows, either. "How can you expect me to leave when you're like this? And where the hell is Yuichiro?" 

Personal feelings aside, you know Mikaela would be far more comfortable receiving help from him. 

"He transformed again."

Well, shit. What great timing. And you guess everyone else is either helping control the demon, or busying themselves with their established routines. Having only arrived yesterday, it's fair to assume both you and Mikaela were given a free pass for the day. 

"I guess that leaves us no choice." The act of reaching up for the base of your neck is almost instinctual. "Just suck it up, Mikaela. We both know it's for the best."

He all but stays still and is already on the other side of the room before you can attempt your first step in his direction. 

"... No," he whines like a child. The arms he wraps around himself don't do much to stop the trembles of his body. "You're still healing from all of the times I drank. You've done enough. I don't want to be the monster that kills you."

"But I'm fine, really!" Bits of impatience slip through your response. You're not angry at him for caring, but you're definitely worried that letting him get away with his whims may cause far worse consequences than a simple case of anemia. "Honestly! I never feel a thing. Please, Mikaela, we've already gone over this topic many times. You know I won't ever blame you for your urges. Sooner or later, you will have to come to terms with the fact you're a vampire–"

"Stop," he croaks, though the demand is made less striking because of his strained throat. "Just… stop."

It seems he won't be accepting any other option. Question is, can he last the time it will take Yuichiro to regain consciousness? 

It is almost guaranteed he won't. 

You give him a long look, and upon realizing he's dead set on not caving in, you eventually sigh. "Okay, okay," you murmur, visibly deflated. Your attention then trails down to the broken pieces of glass. "If there's nothing else for me to do, I'll clean this mess up."

Mikaela doesn't react during the seconds of silence that you wait for any sort of acknowledgement or reply, so you come to terms with his silence and walk out to the kitchen. 

You want to tell him it isn't all that unpleasant, but a part of you knows drinking human blood is only a tiny grime of Mikaela's concerns. It’s the very nature of his race what sets him on edge. Words can’t express how much he loathes the thought of stealing someone else's life source to survive.

Though it hasn’t been fair of you to undermine his feelings, your desperation stems from the fact you care a whole lot. If there were other methods of taking away his pain, you would follow those directions in a heartbeat. 

Sadly, his reality points at something else. 

You come back less than three minutes later with a broom and a plastic bin. Mikaela is still tucked against the corner where you left him, shaking harder while every moan he contained before leaves him without a shadow of restrain. You're almost sure he isn't even aware you're back, but that aside, the absence of an act is allowing you to see how bad it truly is. He won't make it past the ten minute mark in such poor condition. 

Suddenly, an idea that is so very noble as much as it's devilish strikes you as you're picking up the larger pieces of glass. 

It's for his own good, you reassure yourself. 

Coming in a tad more impulsive than what's probably needed, you force a cut on the pad of your forefinger.

"Ouch," leaves you in a sharp breath.

 Mikaela's response is immediate. 

The thick noise of a swallow makes it all the way to your ears despite the distance separating you from him. When your head turns sideways, you notice that the warm color of wine in his eyes has changed into the dark look only a predator would give to its food. 

Added to that, the outrageous amount of blood pouring out of the small cut isn't doing much to help your case. 

It's a little unsettling, actually–how spellbound he looks. Your body is already trembling with the instinct of a warning, but you shove that feeling to the back corner of your mind and force yourself to stay in place.

You tuck a loose strand behind your ear out of nervousness and shuffle around to face him properly. The bloody finger is outstretched in his direction as an offering while you drop on your knees. "Here, lick it."

Mikaela eventually comes forth with careful strides, looking no different from a cat on the hunt as he treks to your side. You're almost sure he’s completely lost in the bloodlust, but that’s before he grabs your wrist and, instead of plunging in for a bite, nuzzles his cheek against the side of your hand. 

He lingers like that without further motion, unaware of the air he punched out of your lungs.

"You're so unfair," he rasps out. 

If you are yet to move, it's mostly because your brain has forgotten how to operate your muscles to begin with. You have to forcefully pull the words out from your throat in order to say, "I wouldn't do this for just anyone."

The softness in his gaze is dressed behind a thicker layer of lust. 

Lust for your blood, but you'd like to think that's not all there is to it. It's your eyes he's looking at, after all.

"... I know." The air of his answer tickles your finger, moments before it’s brought into the hollowness of his mouth.  

The initial sting dies after one, gentle suckle. The intimacy this action implies sparks weird sensations in your stomach and, quite suddenly, your body starts craving, practically begging and screaming, for the attention only your finger is receiving. 

Air clogs your throat when those slits he has for eyes dart up to look directly at your face, tongue still comfortably molded beneath your finger. The image he provides is far from innocent, yet so deliciously inviting. 

In the flash of a second, Mikaela tosses you to the floor with a push he barely controls. You're sure your spine will feel the consequences later, but your attention has been grabbed by his mesmerizing gaze of intense red, so dangerously close to your face that you feel the brush of his breaths on your lips. 

Just when you thought there couldn’t be more surprises, his tongue comes out and flat-out traces your cheek with a long and sensual stride, moist and slick to the touch, reeling the whisper of a gasp out of you.

Tucking your hair in might have smeared some blood on your face. You can't find a better explanation for something so out of his usually calm demeanor. 

It seems Mikaela realizes this, too, because he retracts from your face and fights off the hands you sneak around his neck to keep him in place. The position lets your eyes meet once again and you see all of the embarrassment displayed on his expression. 

"S-sorry, I don't feel like myself right now,” he stutters out, still trying to fight the hands keeping him poised.

"Because you need blood, that's why." Your right palm bends to fit the curve of his cheek. The other stays on his nape, messing around with the tip of his smaller hairs. "Listen, I know it's hard for you, much harder than it is for me or Yuichiro. You try your damn hardest to subsist without a single drop of blood and your body just won't cooperate. It reminds you of who you don't want to be."

You know you've hit a weak spot when Mikaela moves his eyes somewhere else, but the soft tug you give to his head redirects his attention back on your face.

"My point is, I think I understand you more now, and I want to apologize for being insensitive." 

Surprise widens his eyes a fraction. 

"I've been expecting you to ask us for blood, but I’ve never taken into account how terrible it makes you feel. You hate it, and I get that. That’s why I will stop waiting for you to take action on your own, and I will offer my help instead. I will stay attentive and keep count of the days; know that you have me as an ally. In return, however, you have to at least accept my help when it’s given… okay?”

Amidst the hectic pants escaping his mouth, he appears calmer. His inner turmoil has been put to rest, even if only for a short while. 

"... okay," he whispers. 

"Do you want my help right now?" 

His hesitation lasts no more than a second before he says, "... Yes."

You expose your neck to him. "Then go ahead."

He goes for your collarbone instead, an area previously untouched by his fangs, so the bite feels foreign, almost like the first time all over again. 

Instinctively, you bolt and squirm, but the press of his tongue soothes the ache in that instant. Then, as the remnants of pain are replaced with the blissful feeling you experienced last time, you circle your arms around his head to keep him there.

Sweet, sweet , pleasure. Tingles in your chest, and on the walls of your stomach, and a little below your navel. Heat everywhere, so much of it you feel yourself sweating through your clothes. 

Just like that, you realize you’re an easy prey to this new form of addiction called Mikaela Hyakuya.

Your hands are roaming down his back before you know it, dragging the tip of your nails down the soft texture of his shirt, all the way to the hem.

You feel cool skin beneath your open palms. Smooth to the touch from the hips to his shoulder blades. And since Mikaela's lips are locked tight on your skin, his response comes with the shiver that highlights his pores. 

Even though you feel the blood leaving your system in big chunks, pleasant stimulation hits every nerve in your body and lights it on fire. 

It’s heaven on earth until you do something that makes you both freeze.

Without a second to spare, dread follows the palm you send over your mouth. If you were warm before, now you’re fully combusting. 

Mikaela detaches from his spot to find a home in your gaze, mouth licked clean of blood. The slit of his eyes are now full moons on a widened stare. Meanwhile, you have no choice but to be mortified beyond belief under his weight.  

"Did you just…” He barely believes it himself. “Moan?"

And rather loudly, too. Oh, God.

It's anyone's guess what could be stirring the gears inside Mikaela's head, but if he's by any means repulsed, he doesn't show a hint of it. 

Besides lacking the means to lie your way out of this situation, your tongue is tied into a knot inside your mouth. Instead, you cower behind the protection of your hand until Mikaela sees himself obligated to move it aside. He grabs it from the wrist and pins it beside your head. 

"What do I have to do," he pronounces slowly, incredulous of his own thoughts. "...to hear that sound again?" 

Huh?

Though it feels like you just dodged a bullet, your heart is beating like crazy. Everything is just so new. Your reaction was new and unexpected. His responses are new. Somehow, it's even better than the dream Karkodan put you through. The thought is scary because, what if this isn’t real?

The smooth skin of his back feels very real, though. As does the hand holding your wrist, and the one cupping your cheek.  

He's so close you could just…

You force your stare back to his eyes, but it’s too late to hide the mistake. Surely, Mikaela has noticed you stole a peek at his lips. 

Eventually, he shakes his head, as if to clear the haze in his mind. His eyes are bare, and in that honesty they also show just how confused he is. "Your scent… it's driving me crazy."

You realize your throat is dry only after swallowing. "... I-in a good way?"  

An intimidating pause takes place before he opens his mouth again. "Yes," he rasps. "What are you doing to me? Vampires aren't supposed to–" 

You can't help it.

You lean into his mouth, lips joining in a delicate flutter, but you break away almost instantly to meet his eyes again, still close enough that you share the same air. The ghost of his touch lingers on your mouth, his taste just a tad present as well. You’re excited. Your pulse is racing like never before.

First, you stutter out his name. 

And then he's kissing you again, softly, close to a petal-like touch. The gesture has bits of insecurity and confusion. He’s clearly inexperienced. Perhaps with virgin lips before today, but you don’t mind the stillness at all. 

Feelings are getting through. The interest is shown in the longevity of the kiss. You can tell he’s trying his best with the arm that carefully treks around your waist to reciprocate the firm grasp you have on his nape. The movement is chivalrous, but also very curious.

Feeling a little bold, you prod his lower lip with the tip of your tongue, though he doesn’t offer much reaction besides the added tension in his muscles. 

By the time you realize his touch has left your lips, Mikaela is already on his knees, pulling you along to your feet. He throws a wary glance over his shoulder and says, “Someone’s coming.”

His voice breaks you out of the spell induced by lust. Your normal thoughts come back to you in a wild rampage and your face starts glowing with heat. 

From where did you get the courage to perform that entire espectacle in front of Mikaela?

Being devoured by Karkodan doesn't seem so bad anymore, you suffer mentally. Hey, buddy, you in there? Have my soul. 

Not hungry right now, he answers back without a moment's delay. You're on your own. 

Fucking bastard. 

In comes Yuichiro, who’s groaning and stretching his arms. "Hey, Mika" he yawns. "The demon has finally gone back to sleep. Told ya I'd be fine."

He's completely clueless about what he has barged into, and it doesn't help that the vampire changes into a frustrated character in a matter of seconds as if nothing ever happened. 

"That doesn't make it okay or normal, Yuu," he sighs, showing stress.

Mikaela’s either a damn good actor, or he doesn’t see it as that big of a deal. You wonder if the one kissing you was even Mikaela. Perhaps it was only a version born from the same lust that was shaking the ground beneath your feet.

"Huh?" questions Yuichiro. "Since when are we normal?" 

Touché.

Chapter Text

“Yoichi, you fucking traitor,” leaves you as an irritated murmur. 

“M-me?!”

“I didn’t think you’d be this shameless.”

“I understand you must be upset, but it’s not like I purposely planned this!”

You take your stare away from him and scoot over to the edge of the log, the furthest away from him, in a childish display of resentment. “Okay, do it, then. But talk to me again and see if I’ll give a damn.”

Yoichi startles with an open mouth. “Wait, really?!” he wails. “You’ll start ignoring me because of a—”

“Go ahead. It’s cool,” you interrupt with a thinner and more serene tone of voice, eyes glancing away with steady dignity. “I’ll get super upset with you, but it’s not like you would care in the slightest.”

His expression sullens and he looks down. Those same blue feelings give his answer a somber and defeated vibe. “Well, I guess, if it matters to you that much, then I can—”

“No,” cuts in Kimizuki to his left. His tone is stern and solid, expression just as hard behind the reflection of his rectangular glasses. “Don’t let her tyranny reign on. Can’t you see she’s abusing you?”

You lean out to fire a glare at him. “Go to hell, Shit-zuki. Yoichi can do as he pleases.”

“Destiny cannot be changed,” Shinoa joins in with her words of wisdom, sounding equally serious. “You’re only delaying the inevitable, Yoichi. Do what you have to do.”

Your eyes flip from Shinoa to the boy. “Yoichi.”

“Yoichi,” says Kimizuki. "It's either her or Shinoa."

Because of the tension Yoichi scrunches his face with, one would think he was trying to take a shit on the log. His troubled mind eventually boils to life and a sudden outburst follows. “Okay, okay! I’ve made up my mind!” he exclaims.

His hand slams over the center table and stays glued to the surface, building unnecessary anticipation the longer he takes to remove it. 

Only the flames dare to crack over the silence that surrounds the campfire. 

Then, the final verdict when he finally sits back. 

“Draw four. I choose green.”

You blink once, then twice. An extra passing second and your lips break out into a smile only a psychopath would own. “Ha, okay, wow. Fuck you, Yoichi." The lack of expression in your choice of words adds a bigger essence of bitterness to it. You lean forward and flip your hand over the deck of cards to give your single Uno card four more companions. 

So close and yet so far. You didn’t think Yoichi had it in him to defy you. It’s the reason you chose to sit beside him in the first place. Now, you’re wishing you would have sat in between Yuichiro and Makoto. Those guys suck ass at this game.

Shinoa barely waits for the end of your turn before she flings her last card on the table. "Uno!" she cries victoriously while throwing her hands over her head. 

Following the wolf-like grumble making your lips twitch, Yoichi chuckles and rubs the back of his neck, which is covered entirely by his puffy mob of brown hair. “Come on now, don’t be so angry…” He’s all shit and giggles until you show him the questionable poker face your anger is hiding behind, and the next bit of sentence comes out in a series of stammers.“... p-please? I mean, playing games should be about strengthening our bonds and freeing the mind from the troubles of the real world—"

Oh yeah, besides the giggling, he also has a habit of going off on his words like a priest when he’s insanely nervous. 

You ignore him either way, giving the guy next to him, the one who cost you your victory, your full attention. "Specially you, Shit-zuki. Go die."

"Don't take out your childish frustrations on me. You lost fair and square.”

You don’t understand where he gets the audacity to hide a sly smirk behind the many cards that have long since started to look like an actual fan in his hands. Clearly, he’s trying to find some joy in your misfortune to save what little dignity he has left from sucking absolute ass at Uno. You should know better than to follow up his provocative act.

Except you don’t. Can anyone blame you? It’s that much harder to ignore Kimizuki when he makes your blood boil all the damned time.

“Whatever, I still won four times.”

Four times razing the competition in the very game of the gods. You’re still waiting on everyone to tell you how mad impressive that is. 

"But then Yoichi beat your ass,” comments Kimizuki as if it was a passing thought. 

Sweat practically bounces off Yoichi’s temples. He immediately waves his hands in front of him to dismiss Kimizuki’s claims, fearing you might lash out on him next. "Oh, I-I wouldn't say that I beat—" 

Fortunately for him, you only glare at Kimizuki with tunnel vision. "Want me to beat your ass, huh, Shit-zuki? I warn you, though, I won't be as gentle as Yoichi."

Mitsuba throws her head back and groans at the stars in the sky. How did it go from Yuichiro and Kimizuki to you and Kimizuki? she wonders. "Ugh, go flirt somewhere else.”

When you hear her say that, looking at Mikaela is almost instinctual. You realize only afterward how trivial the concern must be to the mind of an adult. Then again, it’s been a while since you’ve stopped considering yourself one. Not since you admitted to being hopelessly lovestruck. 

You wonder if Mikaela thinks of your every move as much as you do. You find yourself looking in his direction, contemplating what he’s up to when he’s not around, spotting every little detail in what he does or how he looks like. 

Right now, you see the orange colors tattooed on one half of his pale skin, the mask of shadows dressing the other half, and the glimmer of the sapphires he carries for eyes.

You wonder if he feels the same way. Oddly enough, you have an easier time figuring out when he needs his fill of blood than identifying the changes in his conduct. You know yours has changed. For better or for worse, that’s yet to be decided. 

When your stares clash, your stomach comes alive inside you, yet Mikaela appears as though he’s looking into the eyes of just anyone else. He hasn’t become distant, per se. But he’s suspiciously normal . 

"Hey, did you really mean it when you said you wouldn't talk to me?" Poor Yoichi still drowns in his own pool of concerns, and rightfully so, because no one ends your winning streak and walks out unscathed.

From across the fire, on the other end of the log Mikaela’s sitting on, resides the oldest member of the group. "I still don't get why you're all getting so passionate about a child's game,” Makoto says, addressing your resentment. 

Child’s game? The audacity. Uno has enough destructive power to wreck families and relationships. If anything, you’ve yet to understand why it doesn’t come with an R for restricted printed on the box. 

"You say that because you keep losing every round.” One simply does not know glory until one claims victory and knows what it feels like. “Sucks to be you, Makoto."

Yuichiro steals a spot in the conversation to express his groan. He’s the one sandwiched in between Makoto and Mikaela. "I still don't get this game." 

"I never expected you would,” Kimizuki fires back. 

"[Name], please talk to me."

You don’t give Yoichi more than the side profile of your face. Besides your initial frustration, the amusement his suffering brings comes as a nice plus. 

Eventually, the commotion is brought to a halt with the clap of two hands. All heads and pairs of eyes flip toward Shinoa in perfect unison, just as a bunch of cats would when attracted to a moving toy.

“Okay, guys. We’ve had our fun,” she says with her naturally weightless voice. A bright smile is imprinted on her face, most likely from having witnessed the comical bickering that is so characteristic of the group. “It’s time we move on to a more serious topic.” She pauses briefly, then adds, “Guren.”

Disbelief shines bright in the sound of your huff. “Don’t tell me you’re all still dead set on rescuing that guy.”

“He’s family.”

You would know it’s Yuichiro even without hearing the voice that belongs to him. Of the many times you’ve found his family talk revolting, this one by far beats every other one. It must take a gifted idiot to be able to ignore facts that glimmer on plain sight. 

“He tried to kill me and Mikaela in order to get to you . Don’t you get it? He doesn’t care about anything, us, or you besides himself.”

“But he cried,” Yuichiro adds with an ever growing thick skull. “I saw it.”

You slice through the air with your hands. Visually, it looks as though you could have popped your arms off your shoulders because of the strength your indignation evokes. “Oh, for crying out loud!”

Mikaela utters his first words in a long while. “I agree with her, Yuu. Guren only wants to use you.”

“That doesn’t change the fact he’s family. Even if he wanted to use me, I’d let him.” His emerald irises run over the people that are circled around the campfire, displaying softness and affection in company of tenderly curved lips. “I’d let any of you use me, because you’re family, too.”

In the tiny gap of silence that follows, it’d be easy to believe everyone has been moved by those words. 

Such is not the case for you, of course.

“God, I'm going to barf,” your voice pierces like broken glass. 

Mika places both hands in the little space separating him from Yuichiro and leans closer to his face. “I would never use you like that, Yuu.” The two rubies in his eyes are colored shades of brighter red under the worship of the fire. His velvet voice sounds just as intense. 

God, what is he doing to me? You shake the thoughts away and train your attention on caramel-colored eyes instead. 

“Shinoa, this is stupid. Please, tell me you realize that, too.”

“Um…”

Yuichiro gets up. The Uno cards slide off his lap, forgotten by everyone but yourself, who’s aware they’re technically Aoi’s property and Yuichiro is risking they get lit up by the nearby flames while he’s in some crap about family yet again.

“Wasn’t Guren the one who brought us together?” he says. “The one who taught us what family means? Didn’t we all see him risk his life for his soldiers?”

“And then he sent the ones alive to hell,” you grumble. Despite your bold essence, you keep your eyes on the cards you have in your hands, feigning interest in the colorful designs. “How sweet of him.”

“He’s being controlled by his demon, just as I have been.”

Mikaela tugs his arm, but with pointless generosity. You would have forced him back on his ass for sure. “A problem that originated because of him,” he says, showing a hint of the frustration you’re spewing out in angry tides.

Shinoa doesn’t add anything. She’s lost in her own thoughts, thinking hard with her chin propped on the palm of her hand. Your guess is she must be equal parts divided between rationality and her obvious crush on Yuichiro. 

You might as well call it quits on the argument altogether and accept a future at the hands of the Imperial Demon Army because no one, besides Mikaela, seems to have a hint of logic to spare.

Following the silence everyone feels weighing on their shoulders, Makoto makes a poor attempt at breaking the ice by suggesting with as much casual vibes as the stance he just assumed, “Well, Guren is the only one who can give us answers at this point.”

Yes, yes , and it is exactly because Guren has the answers that you want to stay as far away from him as possible. Learning about your past will only bring you anxiety. Why search for that horrible feeling when you can escape it?

“Whatever you choose is fine with me as long as it takes me closer to my sister,” adds Kimizuki afterwards, making you twice as livid. You part your lips open to protest, but another voice beats you to it; Yoichi’s.

“Guren should know where they have Mirai locked up.”

“Yes.”

You take in a breath to stabilize your emotions. The stress has reached to a point where you feel the tears prickling the inside of your eyes and your own air clogging your throat. “Guys…”

“It only takes the reason of one person for the entire group to follow,” Mitsuba’s voice blares with seriousness. The longer she looks at you, the more you’re convinced she’s reproaching your supposed insubordination. “It’s obvious there will be nothing changing Yuu’s mind. Besides that, it is the Imperial Demon Army who has Kimizuki’s sister. That should be enough of a reason for us to support the decision.”

Shinoa gives a firm nod. Her addition seems to have contributed to a final decision. “I’d say the number of votes in favor are clear.” 

You grab immediate attention after groaning out loud. You dip your head in your palms and sigh in utter defeat. Without context, it might look like you’re exaggerating your suffering. You doubt any of them would understand either way. They don’t know the real Guren nearly as much as you do, and that is without including how little you know him, too. 

Kimizuki clicks his tongue. Without looking up, you hear the same degree of Mistuba’s disappointment. “Guren wasn’t in control when he attacked you in the city, you said so yourself. Don’t you want to save him from his demon?”

You twist your head up, enough that only one eye encounters the degrading stare hiding behind the fire reflected on his glasses. The arms he has folded in front of him give him the look of a disappointed father. The frown contorting his forehead makes you feel smaller. The only reason you insist on a cold exterior is because your swelling pride orders you to not break down. 

“Not my problem,” you answer slowly and provocatively, although much less intense than before.

“That’s low even for you,” he grumbles. “I heard he was your mentor and the closest thing to a father figure—”

A father figure, he says? The same guy who replaced you for another doll as soon as you ran out of stuffing? Kimizuki doesn’t have a fucking clue about what’s going on. None. You don’t even know what kind of experiments Guren has done on you that you now feel part of your brain missing. Instead of the dearest student, you’ve been nothing more than a property of Guren Ichinose, and that realization makes you fucking sick; it chills you to the bone and makes your breath hitch. What a waste of your life this has been.

No, Kimizuki doesn’t understand even a quarter of your suffering.

You cross the small distance between you and shove the spikes of your fan below his chin, which he raises to keep from grazing. By the end of that single movement, he freezes in place. The rest reside uncharacteristically shocked as well, enough to keep them from intervening as one normally would. 

“Do not go there, Shiho,” you growl his first name for emphasis; to show you’re serious in your anger. “Don’t pretend you know everything when you clearly don’t. Guren is a fucking traitor and he betrayed me!”

Intoxication can be the greatest cause of honesty. You’re drunk in your own spur of feelings, but are still able to stop before you reveal more than what’s worth their share. 

It only takes Yoichi another moment to bolt out of his seat and carefully push down your arm, treating you as if you were a wild beast, which at the current time may not stand far from the truth. 

Shinoa is the next to gain back her senses. She gets up and walks closer, though still respecting your personal space. Her voice shakes a bit with concern. “Then help us understand. Tell us what’s bothering you so we can support you. What happened with Guren?”

There’s no use in explaining. None of them gave a flying fuck about your opinion before your outburst, which must have been what scared them to the point of submission. Nothing’s changing their minds from going after that man. They’re sheeps desperate to go back to their shepherd. You’ve broken free of the chains, but they will stay bound at the roots for as long as they insist on sheltering the parasite Guren is so desperate to get back.

You look at Yuichiro with a glare that could burn through steel.

Family of Guren is the same as the enemy. They are not your family. 

“H-hey.” Yuichiro steps forward, reaching Shinoa’s side. Instead of the lightheartedness he intends to share, the chuckle that leaves him only shows tension. “It’s okay if you had a fight with Guren. We’ve argued more times than I can count, but that doesn't change the fact he’s one of us. Being a jerk is just part of Guren’s personality, really. That’s nothing new. Besides—”

And there goes Yuichiro showing his undying devotion to Guren. The same devotion you wish you had. No matter how much of a monster you know Guren is, there will always be a part of you wishing you had kept a fragment of the trust Yuichiro has toward Guren. There’s a chance you would be as obsessed as Yuichiro is if only Guren had shown more interest in you. 

“Shut up. Shut up! You think because he chose you as his favorite toy that you can play mediator? You don’t know anything about him! Not you, nor anyone. Not even me!”

You hate Guren, but you probably hate Yuichiro more. You know it’s unwarranted, and still, you can’t stop yourself from accepting the poison your own emotions feed you. 

Yes, come on, lassie, speaks an echo of Karkodan’s voice. It vibrates in your head with the power of church bells and makes it pound. Tell Yuichiro how you feel. Tell him how much you hate him. Give in to your selfishness.

Quiet!

He has taken everything from you. Your mentor. The spotlight. He was chosen for a Black Demon Series. And he’s taken Mikaela as well. You have every right to be pissed. 

The storm inside you pauses after the mention of that name, and a bit of clarity lets you properly see Mikaela for the first time since your outburst. Only the state of his partially widened eyes helps in making you aware of the ugly side you’ve just shown him. You did just verbally attack Yuichiro in his presence. 

You find a bit of solace, however, in noticing he looks more concerned than disgusted. He’s up on his feet, and you realize then that so is everybody else except Kimizuki.

What an unnecessary commotion. 

You shake your head, but instead of a clearer mind, you get a mess of thoughts, more dizziness and even more anger. You’re an open target as you are; a chest which Karkodan took the lid from. There isn’t much but a thin layer of resistance keeping him out. 

So you try to fool yourself, and hope it will fool him in turn.

Mikaela is a lost cause. Wherever Yuichiro goes, he will follow.

And wherever the vampire goes, Karkodan replies. You follow. 

You feel your vocal chords getting tied into knots. Don’t be dumb.

Then why are you still here? Why haven’t you left them as you said you would? Just admit it, lassie. The only reason you’ve yet to desert these fools is because of the vampire. The end of Karkodan’s tail brushes across your cheek in repetitive patterns. It’s as real as the voice only you hear echoing in your head. The touch is similar to that of a ghost, cold, though quite unlike Mikaela’s, and deprived of genuine care. Stop fighting a battle you know you can’t win. If you want to stay far from Guren, just leave them. It’s that simple. The problem is, you can’t, because your attachment to the vampire has by far exceeded our expectations. 

Someone else is calling you from a distance, but you pay no heed to it. 

Admitting to what Karkodan has listed will be the same as giving in, but denying it will make you an even bigger fool. The most you can get out of this predicament is learning from the mistake. Seeing as Karkodan has yet to take over your body, you figure there must still be a thread of sanity left to cling from.

You hear your name again, this time uttered by a chorus of different voices. The intensity pulls you out of Karkodan’s spell and back into the real world. 

As the blurriness clears, Shinoa’s round face takes shape, stealing most of the space your field of vision allows. “Hey, are you okay?” Compared to Karkodan, her voice vibrates with such genuine emotion that the contrast is sensibly notable. The hands on your shoulders, too, radiate a kind of warmth that dispels most of the effect Karkodan had instilled in you. “Take a deep breath. It’s okay. We’re here to help.”

Her generosity puts you less at ease. You can’t accept it. “I-I need… some space for myself.” You neglect her hands, although gently, and step out of the bubble of light surrounding the bonfire. 

The shadows offer you comfort and protection.

Your feet come to a halt by the edge of a cliff. You lean against the single tree that’s rooted there, poking out toward the body of contaminated water existing beneath. Your heart feels heavy, eyes just as tired, as you gaze up at the party of stars dancing in the sky. After having lived under the city lights for so long, you had forgotten what a clear night looked like. It’s unbelievably beautiful. 

You’re sitting down by the time most lights in the village have gone out, admiring the view at the same time you attempt to gather your thoughts together. The you from earlier was only a ghost of who you usually are, but you’re starting to fear perhaps that was the real you. 

There’s a sudden sound that interrupts your heavy line of thinking: steps on the grass, and they’ve already come to a stop before you can whip your head around to scare the intruder away. 

Mikaela. The tension leaves your brows in that instant and you cower away in shame, sinking further into the prickly trunk.

Oh, the lovely perks of being hopelessly infatuated. 

Sensing your embarrassment, he clarifies, “I just… came to check up on you.”

“Oh,” you whisper for lack of a better thought in mind. “I’m okay.”

“No,” he asserts, sure of what he’s saying. Your attention is immediately pulled to him in surprise. “I know you. And you’re not okay.”

You properly look at him, at the shape of his silhouette and at the tiny piece of starry sky imprinted on his eyes. You find yourself loving his long stares the more time you spend gawking at them. Red can be a beautiful color when it’s not worn by ugly monsters. Mikaela just gives it that special spark.

You retract your stare before you get any more lost in his, though when you look back at the actual sky, you start missing the one in his eyes. “Are you sure you know me? I don’t even know myself.”

“I don’t know the past you, but I think I have a good grasp on the present you.” The sound of his voice is soothing. You thought you needed solitude, but maybe you just need a moment with Mikaela. “You’re stubborn, oftentimes a little crazy. You have a strong character and you eat canned spaghetti.”

He makes you chuckle, a reaction only he could have pulled off in such hard times. “That’s superficial stuff,” you say. 

He crouches down to be at closer eye level with you, his hand on the tree. At such short distance, you can see more of the details that make his face so unique and beautiful. “You have a tendency to look off to the side when you’re angry. You aren’t very good with kids, yet you tried for Aoi because that’s the way you always are; you help others. You can be silly, a bit girly when it counts, but you keep a barrier up to show otherwise.” After a steady look at your eyes, he adds, “I could keep going.” 

Surely, he can hear how wildly your heart beats in your chest, almost to the point it hurts. Your eyes are wide, your lips parted by a thread of air. In your shock, it’s hard to get flustered over the proximity of his face.  “You’re not… disgusted by how I acted earlier?”

“Why? You were just being human.”

You get that he doesn’t own a heartbeat, but why is he so frustratingly calm? You can’t hold it in any longer. You want to know what he thinks. 

You take a leap of faith, but more than that, it is a leap of courage and downright guts. “If you know me so much, why do you think I did what I did this morning?”

Yes, you’re talking about the kiss, and it doesn’t take Mikaela more than that shy, undetailed phrasing to get what you mean. He looks off to the side right away. The darkness doesn’t let you see the thoughts reflected on his expression, unfortunately so. 

Perceiving a lack of intent to speak up, you continue with nerves of steel. “Did you really think I’d keep on pretending it didn’t happen?”

“I doubted you’d remember,” comes as his surprising answer, so unpleasantly shocking, in fact, that the indignation weighs down on your jaw, opening it wide. Mikaela then takes the hint and elaborates. “I mean, neither of us were our normal selves. I figured it must have been the bloodlust taking over.”

The creases on your forehead multiply by two. “What do you mean?”

He darts his head down. You’d like to think you would have spotted bright red in place of pale skin had there been more light. “Don’t you feel, well…” His words are slow and insecure, a shadow of the voice he once had while reverencing you. “Something along the lines of, well… pleasure… when I drink your blood?”

Oh, how insanely awkward. More so than discussing a couple of innocent kisses. Not once did you think it would get you to this topic, though you’re secretly glad to be assured the feeling is apparently normal.

“I… thought I was the weird one.” Profound thinking makes the pitch of your answer airy and light. “I’ve never had my blood taken before you, so I had no way of comparing what’s normal and what isn’t.”

“No, no, it’s supposed to be a natural reaction,” he answers quickly. “... from both ends. I don’t know much about the science behind bloodsucking, but it seems my fangs release some type of chemical that causes pleasure on humans. For vampires, it’s the blood.”

“... oh.” You don’t know what else to say. Your brain is still catching on to what he’s getting at.

“That’s why I couldn’t hold it against you,” he continues, once again staring into your eyes. They bear the look of an apology that you don't want to accept. “That wasn’t us in control.”

Now you understand. Don’t get any ideas, is what he’s politely trying to tell you. 

“And what if that was me?” comes straight out from your heart before you can swallow it down.  

Only, you wish you would have stuffed your mouth with crap in order to stay quiet, because the expression Mikaela makes tortures you more than the mind games Karkodan forces on you every night. ‘I fucked up’ is written on his face with enough clarity that you don’t need a better source of brightness to see. 

His throat sounds dry, probably from the lack of swallowing. “You don’t really mean it.”

The emotion he bears on display hurts you, yet you can’t rip your eyes from his no matter what your brain orders you to. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Your voice is weak, could be blown to extinction were you to breathe. 

“Because…” He sighs and stops to rethink his answer. At the very least, his exasperation matches yours. It would be even less reassuring to be the only one suffering. “Listen, it’s not because of who you are. You’re a beautiful person. The thing is... I’m a vampire, and my body works differently from yours. I—how do I say this…” He trails off for an extra second, but picks it up right afterwards. “I can’t experience sexual attraction. I only lust for blood. And there’s a risk that in being with a human I…” 

He doesn’t dare to finish his point and lets the silence speak in his stead. 

“Our nature is hideous,” he concludes. “That’s all there is to it. Putting you in danger is the last thing I want.”

It’s done , you note with defeat. But if any good can come out of this, you’ve at least been set free of the only leash that was keeping you tied to the group. You can finally be spared of seeing Guren and sharing the fall that will come from it. 

Deep inside, though, you still want to stay for Mikaela. 

You’ll need a bigger rejection. You need him to stomp on your heart and bury it under the soil. Only then, will you truly learn your lesson. 

“What about romantic attraction?” Your pitch shakes viciously in between the words. Not even in battle have you been this nervous.

A pause. Then a sigh.

“You need to understand I’m not a human.”

He loves Yuichiro, though. It doesn’t matter in what sense. Obviously, he’s saving himself from answering by emitting such a poor response. 

Yuichiro. Oh, how you hate him.

It’s okay. You’ll be out of here before you can do him any harm. Mikaela has set you free with his rejection. 

He says your name upon lack of an answer. He sounds worried, and it gives your mouth a bad taste. 

“Yeah… yeah, I get it,” you say, trying hard to keep your voice intact. “I was just thinking about what you said and I realized it makes sense. It was the blood-sucking. Nothing else would explain it.”

“... yeah.”

It hurts. It hurts so damn much that you’re now sure Karma is fucking real. This day couldn’t have possibly ended with your happiness. 

You wanted him to answer your feelings. You wanted him to tell you ‘stay’.

“I’m sorry,” he says instead.

Your walls of protection rise again. You turn away and look up. “I don’t need your apology. I just need space.”

You hear him shift and get up without adding a word. His steps on the grass sound aloud until they grow distant and dim.

Then, a whimper vibrates in your throat and takes center stage.

From a distance, Mikaela listens. You just know he is. 

Chapter Text

Mikaela calls out your name yet again, blatantly ignoring that you quite evidently want nothing to do with him. 

You pivot around on your heels and turn up into a narrow corridor that stretches out without end. You follow after it blindly, wishing only to get rid of his trace. “I already told you to leave me alone, goddamn!”

You've been playing this stupid game of cat and mouse for an indefinite period of time and, for whatever reason, the house only seems to grow in size the longer you sprint. The cottage should have been nowhere near as big of a place, and you should have run out of rooms after the third door, but it’s as if you suddenly transported to some gigantic mansion.

Once again, you try blocking out the name his voice so sweetly carries to your ears. It tempts you with the thought of stopping, but you bite your lip and force your legs to keep stepping one in front of the other. 

“Please, Mikaela." Your plea lacks determination. Deep inside, you know you want to see him; you want him to try harder. "Just leave me alone,” you stutter out. "I don't want you to see me like this."

In brief, you look like crap, and you’d rather fall down the stairs than let him have even a peek of the devastation he brought upon your puffy face.

It isn't long before you hear Mikaela’s swift steps catching up from behind. He's a vampire, and you should have known it wouldn't take him much effort to reach you. Any longer on this chase and he would have been toying with you.

Your feet skid to a halt, movements stilled by the arms Mikaela tightly wraps around your midsection. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, and when he speaks, you feel the breaths of his words and the tickle of his lips. 

“Then I won’t see you," he murmurs, voice muffled by your skin. "Just… hear me out, please.”

“Not that you’re giving me much of a choice to begin with." The words seethe between clenched teeth. You initially struggle, then give up in an instant. Fighting off his inhuman strength was bound to not give you any results. 

“I said some stupid things last night," he begins, jaw clenched tight; you feel the muscles trembling against your neck. "It caught me by surprise and I didn’t know how to react. My first instinct wanted to push you away because of what I am: a hideous creature, not worthy of affection, especially yours.” 

No, no, you know he's spluttering bullcrap. How many times have you talked to him? How many times have you shown him that you care? Doesn't he realize that in denying your feelings he's only hurting you? If Mikaela is as unworthy of affection as he says he is, he would have abandoned Yuichiro a long time ago. But he hasn't. Why? Because that idiot boy is of far more value than what you will ever be. 

Feed off your anger, a whisper tells you. Let it consume you.

The air feels thicker, and it’s slowly drowning you. Your eyes can somewhat distinguish it lurking around as fog tinted a light purple. For a moment, you start thinking it’s poison. 

“The truth is.” The sound Mikaela purrs makes you shiver under his touch. Not in excitement, but in fear. "I don’t want to let you go.”

“Mikaela…” His words sound empty, you notice, and they’re no different from blatant lies. There’s a possibility your actions may have guilt tripped him into behaving in this manner. You don’t want him in any way that is not reciprocated and honest. “If you’re worried that I’ll start ignoring you, I can assure you that won’t happen. I just need space.” You take a moment to swallow down the heart that is beating in your throat, and with a steadier tone, you continue, “... but don’t force yourself into being with me. That only hurts me more.”

“I’m not forcing myself.” His embrace mimics the vigor of that spoken promise. Somehow, he feels warm, but that’s maybe the temperature of your body acting up to his touch. The phrases he continuously whispers into your ear might be contributing a lot, too. “I… I want to be selfish for once… be selfish with me." 

“What are you even saying?” comes out of you as meek as the occasional struggle you display. 

“Please…" he begs, as if time was scarce and he needed to let his thoughts be known before it ended. "Be with me, please. Don’t go. Stay.”

Oh, how you have longed to hear that one word. It's as if he knows exactly what you want from him and how to pull your strings to his convenience.

“You… you want me to stay?” your voice quivers with the object of your deepest desire. That one wish. For him to just say, beg… 

“Yes. Stay, please…" He nuzzles his nose against the warmth of your neck, eyes shut tight in his desperation. His hands hold on to your waist as if his life depended on it and he squeezes you even tighter. "Stay with me and only me.”

So very tempting, but your resilience is much stronger. 

“... I-I can’t.”

Or is it? 

“Why? What’s more important than being together?" His voice is now a whine, far too cute to be legal, even more so when it's close to your ear. "Do you realize that the only one stopping us from happening is you?”

“Yuichiro wants to go after Guren, and you are following him into the trap.” Despite the effort you put into your resistance, the action of exposing your neck to him is almost instinctual. “I’m not joining your suicide mission,” you conclude. 

“Okay," he breathes. "Okay, okay, I’ll leave him.”

“What?”

“I’m choosing you." He lifts his face just enough to get his couple of red rubies into view. 

When you twist to look back, they're already offering all the embrace they can give, and once they catch your eyes in that hold, you become enraptured. 

"Don’t you get it?” he rasps, sounding desperate. "I want to be with you.”

Your tongue feels like a rock in your mouth. “But… Yuichiro and the others—” You can barely pronounce properly. 

“I want you.”

“Mikaela…”

“Do you want me?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then, choose me. Want me. Desire me.” He grabs your hand and caresses his cheek with it, letting your fingers quench their need; grace the skin and claim it as yours. “Touch me. I belong to you even if you refuse to accept me.”

“Stop.”

This… this isn't Mikaela.

“Do you have any idea of how long I’ve thought about this? How hard it was for me to just… tell you about my feelings?”

Your brows scrunch together with a mixture of fright, confusion and so, so much need. “Your… feelings?”

“Do you really trust me?”

Maybe you already knew it wasn’t Mikaela. Maybe you just wanted a body that could soothe your pain. 

You realize this, yet you still want him.

“... I do trust you.”

He cups your chin in between two fingers and pulls you closer to his face. His eyes are no longer innocent-looking. The expression is far from the one Mikaela usually wears, but you're content with the features that are a near perfect copy of the guy who owns your affections. 

“Then why are you struggling?” he tests. 

“I’m not.”

“Kiss me, then. Kiss me now and prove that I’m yours.”

You don't think twice about leaning into that smirk his lips form. The curve deepens as it comes into contact with your mouth. The touch is cold, unalive and devoid of any emotion, yet you cling to it like it will be the last meal in your life. 

You twist around and kiss him again. You peck, bite and delve deeper, an overwhelming need consuming you to the point of stupor. 

A mixture of dizziness and fatigue washes over you next, and in that moment you know you’ve officially fucked up. You were aware of the dangers, and still you couldn’t resist the urge. Kissing him has been the equivalent of a drug acting up on your body. 

You give out on the arms of a stranger, head hanging back on air. The man holding you still looks like Mikaela, but his touch feels repulsive now that the spell has cleared. 

Fucking Karkodan. 

Fighting him off is futile. Your limbs are heavier than the pressure the ambience exerts on you. 

Mikaela's hush lulls you to serenity. Even though you know it's Karkodan, the toxin was already instilled. Even though you fear his touch, it numbs you with the whispered promises of comfort. 

“She has lost control of her demon!" a voice echoes in the distance. You barely catch the words, but the color of it resembles Shinoa's tone. "Everyone, get into battle positions now! We must keep her away from the villagers!”

A new low has been reached today. 

Aoi. You hope she doesn't see you in this state.

“Come on, idiot!" you hear Kimizuki next, ever so exasperated about your stupidity. This time around, though, you can agree with his point. "Snap out of it! You’re much stronger than this!”

No, you're not. You got what was coming to you. You're the only one to blame for your selfishness. 

“She’s running away!” 

You distinguish those as Yoichi's words. 

“Where the heck is that demon taking her?!” 

Even Mitsuba is present to see your failure. 

“I know you’re still in there!"

Fucking Yuichiro. You wouldn't mind it if Karkodan snuck in a punch or two while he’s at it. 

As if on cue with those thoughts, the arms holding you down become even stronger. The more you insist on your ill thoughts, the lesser are your chances of escaping Karkodan’s trap.

"Fight it!" screams Yuichiro. It blasts in your head with the power of church bells, which means that perhaps he’s confronting Karkodan up close… ever the stubborn fool. 

"Come on! Fight it!” he repeats. 

You hear your name next, yelled by a despairing version of Mikaela's voice. 

Mikaela or Karkodan? You can't tell them apart anymore. 

“Stay with us, please.”

No, the emotion present is definitely Mikaela's, something Karkodan can only ever hope to recreate. It goes to show just how weak you are for that vampire, to the extent where Karkodan didn't have to do much to get you to break. 

Much too suddenly, a searing pain wakes up the nerves in your body and lights them on fire. You feel your skin boiling to life, melting away under the stranger's grasp. 

What is Karkodan doing? It burns so hot. The equivalent of a hundred needles pierce through your skin and drill deep into your organs. You can no longer breathe, and it’s starting to feel as though you may implode from the inside out. 

Just what the fuck is happening out there? 

Before you can pass out from agony, the heat morphs into a pair of cool and gentle arms. The touch drives away the scorching embers and replaces it with a kind of warmth only genuine emotions guarantee, the kind that Karkodan's trickery lacked. 

“I’m not letting you go," vibrates much clearer, the sound close to your ear. Puffs of air tickle you into better awareness. 

Your arms trail up to return the embrace. You clutch him from the shirt, fingers gripping the fabric tightly should life be cruel enough to pull him away. 

You only get to see some strands of blond hair grazing your cheeks before utter darkness steals a hold of your sight and shoves your head down on his shoulder. 

[...] 

The floor you wake up on is dyed a pristine white, as are the walls that stretch out infinitely to the back. You sit up, thoughts instantly scrambling with the movement, but with a hand on the crown of your head, you push past the pain and get up on your feet. 

Karkodan poses in the glory of his nonexistent throne, his long, slim body twirling into a nest beneath him. The familiar patterns of white and lime are stamped across the scales from his head to the tip of his tail, the same designs you see on your weapon whenever you pry it open. 

Normally, you’d be pissed beyond recognition, but you surprise yourself by feeling nothing of the sort. If anything, you reckon that the experience was well earned. 

“Yikes,” you emit after a lazy shrug, half a bitter smile curling your lips upwards. “Well, that just happened.”

“You don’t look upset," he notes, not a hint of emotion alive in the echo of his voice. 

“But you do," you say in turn, being able to depict him even without any change to his demeanor. It's safe to say you both got the short end of the stick on this experience. There were no winners on either side. "What exactly happened? You had me already. Did you seriously just let me go on a whim? I sometimes feel like you aren’t trying hard enough. Have you grown attached to me or something?”

“Only a human would think something so foolish.”

“Then, am I so good you can’t stay in control for longer than five minutes?"

The laugh that comes out of tightly shut lips seems so genuine it makes you feel self conscious. His beady eyes sparkle with visible superiority. “Do you seriously believe you’ve had the mental capacity to keep me under submission? Your attraction to the vampire, the discovery of your past, the jealousy, the hatred, the deep, scorching desire within you… I could have taken control of you any day had I wished to do it.”

You feel a blow to your pride, yet most of your composure remains intact. In the spectacle Karkodan forced you to undergo, most of the pent up frustration was released. Now, you only feel the residues of numbness and exhaustion. “Then why now?" you inquire while crossing your arms. An essence of skepticism burns alive in your tone. "Did you finally get bored of me or what?”

“It is not that I lack the desire to do it. I simply cannot possess you.”

A single brow curves over your eye. “You’re not making any sense.”

“There is something in you, something that is not human. A thing beyond my control. Something far more powerful than anything I have ever seen.”

You fake a row of chuckles. “Alright, Karkodan. This isn’t funny anymore.”

“For some strange reason," he continues, unaffected by your indirect mentions of 'stop'. "No one seems to have a clue about this rare gem existing within you… I wonder if Guren has anything to do with that.”

Too much information in one sitting. 

“Karkodan, I’m warning you—”

“I forged a contract with you all those years ago, unaware that this thing inside you would bound me by chains. I have been waiting, expecting, that I could someday try to have you in my grasp, but today’s failure was proof enough that I cannot." A forked tongue slips out every now and then through his moveless mouth. "Had I persisted any further and it is most likely we would have both disintegrated into oblivion. What you have inside, neither you nor I can withstand if it’s awakened.”

Is that what the sear on your skin implied? That whatever you have in you was trying to break free?

Nothing guarantees you can trust this demon.

You run a trembling hand over your head. The intention, however, is more a nervous reaction than an attempt at patting down the nest you have for hair. Your lids shut down, and when they open again, deep emotion fills your eyes to the brim. It stings at the corners. “You’re a fucking liar. You once told me you didn’t know. You told me you were as confused about all this as me!”

“I know not about your past, but of the monster residing in you. I merely deduced both subjects were correlated.”

You ball your hands into fists and stick them down on your sides. Pissed off and confused is what you’d use to describe your state of consciousness. Not the best of combinations for someone who just came out of a demon's possession. "You never told me shit about this!” Your brows are nearly pushing into your eyes.

Karkodan huffs out an air that screams superiority. “As if I’d willingly inform you of my inefficiency as a demon just to feed your overinflated ego. I am a weapon, not your friend. The responsibility of telling you is not mine to assume.”

Right, right. Only one person in this country can provide the answers you need. 

“Guren…” you sneer through gritted teeth. The biggest piece of trash out there. You mustn’t forget who the real enemy is.

Question is, do you want to know those answers?

Karkodan takes advantage of the silence to proceed. “One fact I can most definitely assure is that your meeting with Guren was not coincidental. He knows of the thing you have inside you. Why he has yet to utilize it, I’m not sure. But if you get involved in the crossfire, you would be risking that all sides of this war turn to you in search of that power.”

Suddenly, you're the main target of the war… what the fuck? 

You're incredulous about it all. You don't want to believe it. But what reason would Karkodan have to lie to you? Based on experience so far, it is likely you’ll be better off trusting a demon over Guren. 

You're nervous. Your hands are shaking noticeably hard. If you have yet to faint, it's only because you've already passed out. 

Is it possible to fall into a coma out of sheer anxiety? 

“What exactly is this power, Karkodan?" Your vocal chords can barely keep a steady hold of the words. "Why didn’t I have a clue it existed until now?" 

“It lay dormant in you before I risked triggering it when I took possession of your body." He is frozen in a single stance save for the tail that moves in slow rhythms. "Whatever you have, I am almost sure it is stronger than what Yuichiro has. The only difference is that his recklessness and naivety have awakened it sooner.”

The oxygen leaves your system in one, hefty sigh.

Is that it, then? Are you part demon like Yuichiro? The same race as him? You might as well call yourself an official Hyakuya while you’re at it. It's painfully funny how mere days ago you considered him the biggest hindrance in the group and now there’s a possibility you could be of a far worse kind than his.

Karma really does work in mysterious ways. 'You wanted attention?' it asked. 'Here you go. Now deal with the fact you're a monster.'

Though a sob clogs your throat, your eyes are kind enough to spare you the tears. You might have run out after last night's spur of cries. “I don’t know who I am anymore, Karkodan.”

“Foolish girl," he reprimands, seemingly upset at your weak state of mind. "This has always been the real you. The fact that you have yet to understand it does not change anything.”

“I still don’t get your intentions, Karkodan." You keep your stare down, too distraught to face the majestic creature of much bigger appearance. A whisper of a voice comes out when you add, "You want to save me from Guren? From this war? Why are you even trying?”

He huffs. “Don’t think too highly of yourself, lassie. My only goal has been snatched away from me. You asked and I simply delivered. What you choose to do with this information is none of my concern. The most I can receive from you now is entertainment.” 

“Do you think…" Your throat bobs with the saliva you force down. "That the monster in me could trigger another apocalypse?”

“Likely so.”

“How do I know I can trust what you’ve told me?”

“You don’t.”

Two beings of aimless existence, snatched of their purpose and forced into a whirlwind of problems they did not choose. You and Karkodan may be more alike than what he cares to admit. You know he has his own turmoils as a demon, specific ones you can relate to. 

A weak sigh communicates your surrender. There aren’t that many choices you can select from to begin with. “Okay, okay. Fine.” You summon enough courage to inch your head up, eyes scrunched and pleading for seriousness. You feel no different from a stranded child in a foreign city. "I have no one else but you, Karkodan. So, please… you don’t have to be my friend, just… all I ask is that you be a proper companion.”

Karkodan studies you in silence, admittedly intrigued by the change in your character. He notices how you barely seem like yourself in your state of despair. It's amusing if not slightly concerning. 

“Humans are such sentimental creatures," he grumbles, as if speaking to himself. "I will never understand.”

Chapter Text

“Guren.” 

You step in between the elegant double doors and close them after you. Your feet shuffle over the purple rug that feels surprisingly soft even when underneath the soles of your boots. Your eyes then skim over the fancy portraits and bookshelves, noting the elegance despite how plain the office looks as a whole. Every pattern of color is tinted a dim hue, nearly colorless. 

The man you’ve come to see is sprawled on his chair, feet leaning on the table, one on top of the other. His face is thrown back and buried beneath a piece of paper, a report, perhaps. The arms that are crossed over his chest show he has been sleeping the hours away, or at least pretending to. 

Upon lack of any elaboration from your end, Guren raises a hand to pick the bothersome report and sets it away on the table. “What are you going to whine about now?” He drops his feet to the floor, but remains seated in place. His cheek leans on a fisted hand, the elbow propped on the arm of his chair. 

“I heard you gave those newbies a Black Demon Series.” You step forward until you’ve reached the opposite end of his desk. Though you’ve come here to complain, your stance still showcases the respect you have for this man. 

He knows who you’re talking about. The infamous daredevils, plus Yoichi, that cause nothing but ruckus within the walls of the Moon Demon Company. It’s only been a little over a week since they became official members and news about their newly contracted demons scattered around fast.

He’s ever so unfazed, of course. He even sounds bored when he says, “They proved they could do it. How is that my fault?” 

“You never let me prove myself, and I’ve been part of the Vampire Extermination Unit much longer than they have.”

Finally, his expression twists into something that isn’t complete lack of carelessness. Except that instead of genuine emotion, his tiny pout only shows mockery. “Aw, but I thought you and Karkodan were best pals.”

You’re willing to ignore everything this time around for the sake of not steering away from the topic you’re dead set on addressing. 

“Why do you think I can’t do it?”

The jokes end when Guren sighs, and his face gains a more serious nature after he opens his eyes. Even his tone changes. “Come on, lassie. You had already let this topic go.”

“But then you gave, not one, but three newbies a Black Demon Series right off the bat even though I have been asking for months!”

He clicks his tongue. “Do I really have to spell it out for you again? You already know what happens to most of the candidates that attempt to wield a Black Series.”

You’ve witnessed some mishaps, also the occasional death, but none of that has been enough to scare you. If anything, it would appear the odds only scare Guren off, and he has a Black Demon Series, too. 

“Tell me what makes them special, then,” you utter through gritted teeth, struggling to keep the respect prevalent in your attitude. 

“Nothing. They passed the qualifications. That’s literally it.”

You cross your arms and steer your gaze away at some random portrait. “I would pass them too if you let me take them,” you murmur under your breath, lips puckered only slightly.

He sighs out a groan that communicates his exasperation. “What’s with your obsession? They’re such a pain in the ass to control. Trust me, you’re having the time of your life with Karkodan.”

“I want to be stronger.”

“What for?” His lips then curl into a knowing smirk. “Are you trying to impress a date?”

The heat on your face rises with the speed of a thermometer in boiling water. You stretch out your arms and press them tightly to your sides, right foot stomping the floor. “What, no! I’m trying to impress you , of course!”

His chuckle is carefree and genuine. Your words must have hit a soft spot, as you occasionally do because of the brutal honesty that often escapes you in his presence. He rises from the chair and walks around his desk. “But I’m already impressed, lassie.” He moves his hand up and lands it on your head with a few repetitive pats. “You’re always exceeding expectations.” 

You feel the embarrassment concentrating on your cheeks and hide it behind a bitter act. Your attention stays glued onto the tip of your boots as you hum. “Imagine if only you’d let me wield a black series. I bet you’d be twice as impressed.”

He purposely ruffles your head with harsh effort, so that the action stops you from talking anymore of the topic he deems utter nonsense. “Would you let that go already? I know what’s best for you, and every decision I take is always with your best interest in mind…” He pauses for an answer and upon receiving none, adds a pensive, “Got it?”

You offer nothing else besides silent pouting, cornering Guren into hitting the side of your head for that answer.

“Got it?” he repeats, this time with the aid of a warning. 

You can’t deny you find some comfort in the scene that feels so proper of a father/daughter bond. Only that, under more normal circumstances, the topic would involve parties or boys and not a conversion of demons and war. 

“Yes, Guren,” you say.

“Good.” He turns away to head back to his usual spot behind the desk. “Now stop pestering me and get out of here. I have work to do.”

As if he’d do any.

You head for the doors, but stop once your hand has curved around the knob. When you think about your relationship with Guren, you can’t help but compare it to the one he’s forming with the new kid of green eyes.

The thought makes you feel a bit bitter.

With your hand still at the door, you sneak a glance over your shoulder. “Okay, but, like, who do you like more? Me or Yuichiro?”

He makes a scowl that screams ‘are you for fucking real?’. Another sigh leaves him as he gives out on his chair. “You’re drowning in a glass of water, lassie. I don’t have favorites. Just students and soldiers.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

He rakes a hand down his face, showing exasperation. “Apples aren’t the same as pears. You can’t compare your favorite meal to your favorite dessert.”

Well thought out escape, but there’s one thing Guren missed.

“Anyone would choose dessert, obviously,” you grumble, eyes looking away in display of resentment. 

“You’re missing the point,” he groans. In only some short seconds of silence, however, he resigns with the eyelids he closes softly. “Fine, you can be the dessert,” he drags the words out like they weighed a ton on his tongue. “Happy? Now stop it with the stupid questions and get out of my sight.”

A moment in time you didn’t dare question as anything more than genuine fondness. 

Nowadays, it makes sense. Following by what Karkodan told you, it’s possible to assume he was intent on keeping you away from a Black Demon Series for reasons more selfish than what he cared to show. It’s likely he already knew what could happen should you fall for the illusions of a demon and didn’t want to risk his chances with curse gears of higher rank. 

Poor Karkodan must be feeling far more useless now, you note.

Shut your trap , he answers back. I can fucking hear you, remember?

Oops.

You slide against the windowsill and stretch out a leg against the other end. You watch the stars and the occasional villager crossing by your view to go about their business. 

It’s quiet inside the cottage. Most are either asleep or preparing for bed, maybe exchanging some last minute conversation or finishing up the last round of Uno you refused to join. 

Their generosity makes you sick. You know you’re not worthy of it, and chances are they don’t even like you that much. You hate fake actions, and you won’t accept forced hospitality, more so now that you’ve come to terms with the idea of walking a different path from theirs. 

You were spared a night worth of journeying because of the job that has been assigned to you, but you’ll take your chances tomorrow night and sneak out into the woods. Where? You don’t know, as long as it’s far away from them and the commotion they’re so intent to follow.

You’ve chosen not to meddle further into the world of demons and seraphs. You don’t have an interest in knowing what you are. 

Ignorance is bliss, or so they say. 

Soft steps click against the floor on their way to the living room and you give a quick look at who you think will be your companion for tonight’s watch.

Only that Yuichiro was the last person you expected to see.

“Hey there,” he greets, his voice unusually soft, as if he was trying to lull a wild beast. 

“Shinoa didn’t tell me you’d be keeping watch tonight.” Your voice cuts off any attempt at a peace offering he might have had. 

“I stepped in last minute. Makoto wasn’t feeling well rested.”

You turn back to the window, arms crossed. “Well… quite suddenly neither am I,” you mutter under bitter whispers. 

In spite of you not hiding your distaste, Yuichiro walks in unfazed and quietly settles on a seat a few feet away from your position. You don’t bother with talking, not even acknowledging his existence even though you can practically feel his inclination to open his mouth. 

You’ve barely made it to the three minute mark when Yuichiro’s will breaks and he says, “Are you doing alright? With… your demon, I mean.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“But you’re my fam—”

You raise your hand in his direction, pointer finger outstretched. “I swear… you say that word once and I’ll kick your ass to the curve.” Your tone carries your warning through, it seems, because Yuichiro shuts his lips tight and looks down, though not with any feelings besides deep pondering. 

You’re still studying him when a smile curves his lips up and then a tiny chuckle bleeds through. It strikes your ego, but you keep the anger hidden save for the brow you jerk up at him. 

“I used to be like that too, ya know?” he says, “I wanted nothing to do with Mika and the family he was inviting me into.”

“Don’t compare me to your immature ass.”

“But then I realized there were many things I couldn’t have done on my own,” he continues with deaf ears. His calm spirit remains unaffected. “Mika and the rest were always there to support me. My current family is, too. They don’t care what I am or how I go about things. It’s all about the bonds we’ve formed along the way and what we do to continue strengthening them.”

Your scowl twists with enough tension it has the corners of your mouth twitching. “What are you trying to get at?”

“Maybe you don’t feel like you belong because you joined us only recently; Makoto, too. I just want to make clear that we’ll be there for you guys when you need it.” He shows traces of subtle shyness, but overcomes it soon enough with a steadier gaze on yours. “So… if there’s anything troubling you, then—”

“I’m good,” you cut him off.

‘Who does he think he is?’ happens to be your initial thought process. He knows shit about you and, above everything else, you straight up just hate him. 

Then again, hating him doesn’t mean you have to disagree with everything he says, and right now he might have hit the nail on the head with expert precision. 

The poor bastard doesn’t even deserve the treatment you give him. You just can’t help it. Human emotions are such a pain in the ass to handle and you haven’t really been working to keep them controlled. 

No wonder Karkodan found you an easy feast, and even though it’s been revealed he can’t exactly take over your body, you’d be doing yourself and everyone around you a favor in showing some restraint. 

“I guess…” you murmur, unable to hold back the pout worthy of childish behavior. “Your intent is sort of appreciated.”

Yuichiro seems at a loss for words, but his true emotions are revealed in the giant grin that parts his lips so wide it forces his eyes to close. “Of course!” he exclaims.

You try to keep your sour presence alive with the tongue you click inside your mouth. “... so annoying,” you speak to yourself, though it’s evident Yuichiro hears it and gives zero fucks about it because his smile lingers.

An official end comes when you seal your mouth and look away at the window. Yuichiro gets the memo and surprises you by following through. 

The mood feels much lighter on your shoulders now. Maybe the night won’t be so long, after all. 

With Yuichiro by your side, though, thinking about the discovery of your nature is almost inevitable. He may be the only being remotely relevant to what you seem to be; the only one you can relate to. You hear Mikaela is not much different, but he hasn’t been forced to deal with such side of him yet. 

It doesn’t take long for curiosity to overpower fear and you find yourself turning to him with the question at the tip of our tongue.

Your voices mix in a same sentence. “There’s something I want to ask you.”

Brief shock transforms both of your faces into a similar expression, and the next words to come out are uttered in a perfect chorus again.  

“You go first.”

You huff outloud. “As if. You’re going first.”

Yuichiro waves his hands in front of him. “No, no, I mean it. You go—” His lips purse shut with the command of your glare. He scratches the back of his messy hair in between chuckles and resumes. “Okay, it seems I’ll go first.”

The silence that follows feels different. It’s as if Yuichiro dreads what he’s going to say next.

Once it looks like he’s gathered enough bravery, he sighs out the tension and starts. 

“It’s about Mika.” The pressure escalates to unreachable heights after the mention of that name. Of all the topics possible, you weren’t expecting to hear about the vampire, and sensing Yuichiro’s uncomfortableness only makes it worse. 

“Just… how the heck do you do it?” he asks, almost exasperatedly so. 

You scrunch your brows together. “What do you mean?”

“How do you talk ? How do you get him to cooperate? How do guys understand each other so well?” he rambles on, each question forcing a colder chill down your arms. He deflates on his chair. Never before have you seen him more open about his distress.  “... I don’t know. Maybe it’s in my head ‘coz, really, it’s not that we’re on bad terms or anything, but… those four years of not seeing each other have made it harder for me to understand him.” In the pause he makes, soft determination replaces despair on his face. “I want to, though. It’s just that I don’t see things the way he does.” 

Who would have thought Yuichiro had such worries perturbing his peace? Up until just a couple of days ago, he was still blind to everything but his concept of family. 

“You could start by listening to what he has to say for a change.” 

“Huh?” He inches his head to the side in a way that makes him look innocent and, dare you say, sort of cute. “But I do listen—”

“No, you don’t,” you sigh out. “You’re so fixated on your perfect, little world of ‘family’ and ‘friendship is power' that you fail to take into account how others view life.”

Not only for Mikaela, but also yourself. The biggest difference between points of view is experience, and Yuichiro only takes into account his own when making decisions. This is, perhaps, his most annoying trait and what sets your blood boiling.

You’re secretly glad he brought this on by himself.

“It doesn’t matter whether Mikaela’s perspective is right or wrong,” you continue. “If you care about him so much, the least you can do is give ear to what he has to say and discuss things between each other. Have you ever stopped to ask him why he doesn’t like drinking blood? Haven’t you ever wondered what exactly happened to Mikaela in those four years for him to have such views of the human race? You have heard him talk about it, we all did, but you’re always rebutting with crap about family, and power, and Guren is ‘this’ and ‘that’. Have you ever just shut up and truly listened ?”

His mouth hangs partially open, just enough for a sliver of air to pass through. He appears to be soaking up your words in the brief silence that takes place.

“I… didn’t think of it like that,” he eventually answers, his voice dim. “Have I really not been listening properly? I just thought that… with enough reassurance, he’d soon realize they’re his family, too. I just want us all to get along.”

“Then start by communicating properly… and I don’t mean forcefully drilling the word ‘family’ through to him. Trust me, his skull is too thick for that.” You huff, which makes Yuichiro chuckle. “What I mean is listening, trying to understand his perspective, and talking without it being one sided. Work together to reach a common decision.”

There’s no point in clinging onto ill feelings when you’ve already decided you’ll be leaving. If this is the only way you can offer support to Mikaela, then so be it. 

“You’re right,” he voices with newfound determination. “Wow, you really are amazing. It’s no wonder Mika likes you so much. You probably know him better than I do at this point.”

A lump grows in your throat, one that you can’t swallow down and thus reflects in your voice. “I highly doubt any of that is true.”

You haven’t seen him since Karkodan took over. You told him you wanted space and he’s been giving you more than what’s worth your share.

That sounds more like Mikaela , you note to yourself. Not the shit of a man Karkodan recreated. How were you such a fool in falling for it?

“You wanna know something?” Yuichiro interrupts your thoughts.

“No.”

“I’m… kind of jealous of you, to be honest.”

As easy as that, he steals your attention. 

“What?”

“Guren always talked about you,” he elaborates, gaze held down. “I’ll admit it had me a bit bitter at first, but as time went by I started to really want to meet you. Family of Guren is also mine, and I realized I should feel blessed to have someone like you as part of the group. Look at us now, you just helped me a lot with Mika. That’s the kind of stuff family does.” 

God, this guy talks like a priest. 

That aside, how is it that you find more things in common the longer you talk? Karma has extended his stay far too long. ‘Hah, you’ve been hating on a reflection of your own character,’ it says to mock you. 

Yuichiro continues, unaware of the turmoil washing over you in turbulent waves. “So… what I’m trying to say is… I’m sorry… for my jealousness and for not listening before. I promise that from now on I’ll be a better family member.”

Good God, now he’s apologizing? 

“Q-quit it, already.” Everything about you, from tone to body language, is meek. “You’re exaggerating.”

Guilty much? taunts Karkodan.

“Also, I agree with what you said about Mika. He really does have a thick skull, no?” Yuichiro laughs at the ceiling. You’re starting to notice every topic surrounding Mikaela shoves his emotions into clear sight. 

They’re really close. Yuichiro has no reason to feel jealousness. Evidently, whatever you once had with Mikaela is leaning towards extinction. 

“Well then,” he says, “Ask away!”

“H-huh?”

“The thing you wanted to ask me about.”

“Oh… right… that.” You’re considering the chance of skipping it altogether. 

“I promise I’ll be a good listener this time around.”

You click your tongue again. “... so annoying,” you murmur. 

“Haha, you said that twice.”

You huff out, shoulders slumped with defeat.  “The thing inside of you… what exactly is it?”

“Oh, you mean the Seraph thing?” The nature of his voice is much too lively for the topic of discussion. “I’m not so sure myself. Mika has talked about it a few times already, but, um… yeah.” He chuckles and scratches the back of his head. “I guess I’ll have to ask him again and properly listen this time.”

You roll your eyes. Meanwhile, he continues.

“I know the stuff is dangerous, but… if it’s gonna give me the power I need, I’ll take what I can get.”

Your expression scrunches with tension. A scowl twists your lips down. “Are you aware that that shit has enough capacity to destroy the world again ? It’s the reason Guren wants it. God only knows for what .”

“He gave me a family, and I’m sure he cares about it, too. I trust him. He can use me if that’s what he wants—”

You snap your fingers in his direction. “You’re already not listening, Yuichiro.”

“Oh, okay, okay, right.”

One would think of Yuichiro as nothing short of sweet bread because of his liveliness and partial immaturity, but you can’t deny he’s actually selfish to some extent. He has already made it clear he would damn the world if it means keeping his friends safe and that’s where you beg to differ. 

“I get that you care about certain people, but you can’t send the rest of the world to hell.” The sudden stress is drinking away your peace, thus you decide to leave it there. “Forget it. I’m sure you’ll hear enough from Mikaela, anyway. How did you activate the thing inside you?”

“Oh, I saw this weird vision of a trumpet in my dreams and I just grabbed it.”

You throw your head back against the frame of the window. “Ah, yes, because that explanation totally makes sense.” 

You shouldn’t have bothered. It’s evident his perspective is much too different from yours. He accepts the demon while you loathe it. 

“Is it…” You swallow the tension in your throat. “Painful?”

“Hah? No, I wouldn’t say painful. Just annoying to deal with… like when the demon takes over and stuff.”

He makes it look like it’s no big deal. How? You kind of envy that line of thinking… as with pretty much everything else revolving around him. 

“Doesn’t it make you question your humanity?” you ask. 

He dabs a finger against his cheek and ponders to the ceiling. “Well, Mika and the rest still see me as just Yuu, so no, not really.”

You hum.

Of course. How you didn’t notice the difference is beyond you. Yuichiro has lasted this long because he has support . 

You can’t really complain about the lack of yours, though, since it can’t be denied the group has offered it enough times already. 

You just don’t trust them enough to tell them. Under different circumstances, you would have spoken with Guren. Maybe even your squad. With them out of the question, you might have turned to Mika, but neither is he available. 

How much longer will you have to keep looking? Why do you have to keep looking? 

“Ah, d-don’t cry!” Yuichiro freaks out. He waves his hands before him in rapid motions, the sweat bouncing off of him. “I said something stupid again, didn’t I? You can totally hit me if you want.”

“Shut up,” you whine, then swing your feet down to stand up. “I’m not crying.”

“It’s okay, really! Family can cry to each other—OW!”

Your fist is still raised in the air should the need to punch him rises again. “Stupid Yuu, I said I’m not crying.”

In spite of the circumstances, the tiny smile on his face mimics yours. 

Chapter Text

You see a little girl whose severe injuries bind her to the ground, unable to twitch a movement or cry out for help, though it appears the circumstances are too risky to attempt any of that either way. 

“I believe the story of the world was written by the First Progenitor.”

A voice ringing more bells in your head than the words it speaks of. Lies and facades hidden behind velvety colors of presumptuous innocence. It whispers danger, hardly palpable, but it’s there. Like a spider alluring some prey to its godforsaken web.

“He is the only one who has been alive longer than I have,” he continues, perhaps addressing a person next to him. You can’t perceive anything more than sounds and it’s hard to picture a concrete image. “He who sired me, and still I haven’t got the faintest clue of what his motives are. My pursuit has lasted thousands of years already.”

“Why are you telling me this, Saito?” 

A voice that calls for familiarity and comfort, one you recognize in a much clearer sense. The meek sound of uninterest pales in comparison to the confident nature of the one called Saito, and with it, the differences in power are firmly stated.

“The information will come in handy to you sooner or later,” comes his answer. “Like it or not, Guren, you’re my pawn in this little game of cat-and-mouse I’m playing with the First. You can’t escape destiny.”

He huffs. “Destiny? What are you babbling about now?”

“My DNA runs in your veins.” The pull of Saito’s smile gives the words a different vibe. You hear his sinister nature breaking out of its shell. “Sure, only as much as what one small piece of tissue allows, but that doesn’t make me any less of your great-grandfather.”

Following hasty pacing on the grass, metal scrapes against its sheath and slices through air. A sword, you think, and it must have been Guren reacting to the insult.

“You lie,” he growls through gritted teeth. 

Saito merely chuckles. “That girl you’re protecting…” 

So many possibilities, yet an instinct in you seems to know he means you, and because your body lacks the strength to react accordingly, the feelings you would otherwise physically convey become knots squeezing every organ and bone inside. 

“You may as well keep her since she’s of no use to me anymore. Let us hope her brother proves himself a far better puppet.” 

Nightmare or memory? 

Karkodan insists it isn’t his doing, but you haven’t questioned him enough to be able to tell, mostly due to the fact you escape those images as soon as you wake up. It’s too much for your current state of mind to handle.

Whatever the case, it no longer matters. You’ve already made your choice.

You try to keep the dry leaves from breaking under your boots. It’s unlikely someone will hear anything when you’ve already made considerable distance between you and the village, but stealth happens to feel appropriate while traversing a forest alone and in the middle of the night. 

A full moon lights your path, never before have you seen it so close. The hill you’ve trekked is a few meters above solid ground, and as if reaching after a goddess, the tip of it pokes out towards the stars. 

You can’t stand around peering for long, though. Having a clearer view means you’re also at the mercy of wandering creatures. You accommodate your backpack over your shoulders and, with a steadier grip on the straps, take course in the direction opposite to the village.

Your plans are indefinite, but steering away from what is causing you physiological harm is all you desire for the time being. If there’s anything the apocalypse has taught you is that planning ahead is a waste of time. Life shoves surprises down your throat when it’s the least expected. You’re almost convinced by now that humans aren’t meant to have even a sliver of control, because every time they do, things are made worse.

Quite suddenly, sharp rustling pops your bubble of thought. You spin around with Karkodan in your hand and shove him towards the moving bush. “Show yourself.” Lest you risk waking up the entire forest, you keep the threat down to whispers. 

A small silhouette rises from the shadows, and upon further inspection, your jaw drops along with your hand. “Aoi?” you seethe through teeth, scrunching your eyes and tipping forward in disbelief. “What are you doing here?!”

Aoi, however, isn’t as wary of secrecy as you are. “If you’re leaving, I’m coming with you!” she cries. 

You hush her, desperation pushing bits of saliva through. You peer around to make sure no unwanted beings are nearby, then return your eyes to hers. “No, no, no. You can’t and you most definitely won’t .” Your voice is gruff and breathless, not to mention utterly pissed, as you grab a hold of her. “I have my own life to pursue. Yours is at the village with your new family and friends.”

She shrugs her arm off your grip. “No! I’m staying with you!”

Nevertheless, you reach out and grab her again, blind to the roughness that anger adds to your touch. “Quit being stupid. You saw with your own eyes the kind of monsters that linger around.”

She fights the pull of your hand, but it only manages as much as dragging her talons through the dirt. “I don’t want to go back!”

She’s too loud for her own good , you think without sparing a glance behind you, too busy surveying your surroundings. Inside your mind, you ask Karkodan to sharpen your senses.

Based on estimation alone, it’s safe to assume she followed you in secrecy for nearly an hour. The journey back will take precious time from your night and ruin your escape altogether. You can’t even afford to cook up a new plan, since doing so amidst her loud crying is essentially useless. 

The next time you lay eyes on her, instead of sweet Aoi, you see the brat who ruined your chances on a whim. 

“Stop that,” you order, sounding more like a mother about to ground her child. “You said you loved your caretaker and the kids that live there.”

“I like you better!”

You turn around and pull her forward. Your eyes level with hers as you come down to your knees, though instead of warmth, they show demand. “Be silent and listen to me. I’m not a mother, nor your play-buddy. I have a lot of crap on my plate right now that I don’t have time to give attention to anyone else. The life I’m choosing to live is not fit for a child, so you’re not coming and that’s final.” The effort of keeping your voice low is close to disintegrating. Fortunately for her, you’re still conscious enough about not revealing how dark and inhumane you can become in your anger. 

Aoi senses it, however. She looks down, her lips pursed, and when she speaks, her vocal chords quiver. “But...you didn’t say goodbye.” 

Realization untwists your forehead free of creases. Your fingers finally loosen around her wrist and you stay wordless in place, just looking at her.

“Aw, how very touching.”

You shove Aoi behind you and look high up at the trees, where you believe the intruding voice came from, but no one’s there. 

Your instincts deliver warning after warning. You raise Karkodan and step backwards, forcing Aoi to pace in your same direction. Your pupils flicker like the eyes of a cat on the hunt. The comparison, however, is far from accurate when you feel yourself shrinking with intimidation.

A shadow appears behind you. Even though you react fast, it still isn’t enough to secure your protégé, who is stolen from your side in the span of a second. The figure leaves you by yourself amidst trees and their shadows. 

“Aoi!” you scream, loud and unrestrained. Danger has already found you either way. 

You scramble around in search of her, working with loose arms and unsteady feet. You cry out her name in ways that could be deemed prayers to the sky. 

Cold air seeps through your throat once you spot them. “Oh, God, please, no,” you choke on the words and rid your eyes of the tears, hoping to all hope they’re deceiving you with your worst fears, but then you look back up and still see that vampire on the highest branch of a tree, child in hand, fangs through her neck. 

“Oh dear, I nearly went and killed her,” he notes as if it was no more than a passing thought. His pale lips linger near the abused spot a second too long before he pulls away. “That would have been quite the no-go.”

Her head and legs pour lifelessly from his hand. Not even a child would carry a drag doll the way this scumback holds Aoi. You can only pin your aspirations on the uncorroborated promise that she’s still alive.

Hatred pumps blood through you; it knits your brows into a contorted frown and tempts your mind with thoughts of death and torture. Flinging Karkodan open, you stride forward and swing at the tree. 

“Vampire scum!”

Currents of wind sharp enough to resemble blades cut through the trunk and bring half of the tree down. Birds fly off the crown before it touches terrain. Dirt and leaves rise like sand from the ground. 

Threads of silver tickle your cheek. A hand of thin fingers curves on your shoulder and sends its cool touch deep to your bones, giving off the sensation of electric shocks.

His cold lips meet your ear, wet with what you suppose is Aoi’s blood. That knowledge alone is enough to make your knees buckle, but the hand keeps you steady. “Tell your group of besties that we’ll be waiting for you in the city southeast from here.” You can hear a smile in his purring. The mellow air of seduction makes you think of a narcissistic psychopath. “Dare to come alone and she dies.” 

He smacks the back of your neck, and you’re knocked out cold before you have a chance to do anything more than widening your eyes. 

[...]

Murmurs and whispers guide you back to reality. When you stir, a hush quiets the noise down. 

“I think she’s awake,” you hear Shinoa say. “Give her some space to breathe.”

The spiraling images come together to form the clear sight of a ceiling. You blink once, then twice, and situate your attention onto the multitude of faces hovering close. 

Another slow blink demonstrates you’re barely assessing what’s around you.

“Do you recognize us?” Shinoa’s question overflows with concern. 

“...y-yeah.” You bring a hand to your forehead and groan under your breath. A headache stings your brain like a bunch of needles thrusted into a pincushion. “What…?”

Your memories come back to you in one go. You fight against all instincts to sit up, but the impulse comes with imbalance and you nearly toss yourself off the bed. 

“Woah, easy there, idiot.” Kimizuki comes forward and places a palm on your shoulder. “You got hit pretty badly.”

The gesture reminds you an awful lot about the cold hand that was placed on that same area not long ago. Even though you swat it away, Kimizuki doesn’t seem taken aback, either from understanding or because your current condition subtracted enough strength that one could hardly call your efforts a smack.

“Aoi…” you murmur through barely parted lips. “Vampire. Southeast from here. How much time—?”

“Hey, hey.” Shinoa tries soothing you with gentle hand motions. After witnessing how you reacted towards Kimizuki, it’s no wonder she finds it best to keep her distance. “Calm down. You’re safe now. You’re inside the hut with us.”

“He has her!” You feel the knot in your tongue loosening and the haze clearing from your mind. You yank the covers away and swing your legs off the bed. “That fucking vampire and his shit-eating grin. He stole Aoi from me!”

As you’re about to stand, Kimizuki’s hands push you back down. “Going on a rampage isn’t going to solve anything, idiot. Take a deep breath and tell us what happened.”

“I just told you—!”

“Calm down,” comes from Mikaela with the steadiness of an order. “For every second you waste freaking out, we’re giving that vampire more time to escape.” 

His scold reminds you of the bitterness you directed at Aoi. If you , who is to some degree deserving of the tone, feels foolish and misunderstood, there’s no telling what the poor child might have felt when you spoke to her in such a way.

Albeit there’s no time for regrets, pausing to think helps you cool down. You steal some seconds to properly scan your surroundings; more specifically, the faces accompanying you. The entire group is present and they’re all showcasing some level of concern save for the level-headed Mikaela. 

When you push out a long breath, he takes it as his cue to continue.

“Were you able to identify the vampire?”

You don’t have enough self-confidence to scare off his scrutinizing eyes. Instead, you keep a steady gaze on your hands and curl your fingers in, digging nails through skin. “Silver hair, red ribbon around his neck.” The muscles on your jaw protrude as you clench your teeth. “...most likely a noble. His outfit was too much.”

“Ferid,” Mikaela sighs out, visibly displeased about the situation. 

“They went to the city southeast from here,” you continue. “He told me to relay the message.”

Shinoa’s brows twitch upwards, revealing surprise. “He wants us there?” 

You nod. “As a unit or she dies.”

“It’s obviously a trap.”

You stack up the courage to aim your eyes at Mikaela. You do your best to keep your expression neutral despite having every instinct telling you to fight for Aoi’s rescue. If you lose your composure again, it’s a given Mikaela won’t offer your case a spare thought. 

“We can’t leave her with them.”

Just as Mikaela parts his lips open with what you’re sure is opposition, another’s answer cuts in.

“We won’t,” Yuichiro assists your cause, his voice poised and certain. 

His stubbornness is coming in handy for once.

“Ferid is notorious for pulling this kind of crap.” Mikaela struggles to keep a collected demeanour. Even the way he speaks shows it. He folds his arms tight to his chest and looks at his best friend warily. “You should already know from experience, Yuu, that he never loses at his own game.”

The hand waved in Mikaela’s direction dismisses his claims. Yuichiro spares him half a glance before taking it back to you. “We’ll find a way around it.” He addresses the blond, but it feels as though he’s placing most of his energy in reassuring you. “It’s not the first time vampires have tried to lure us in with human captivity.”

Hope warms your chest and gives your heart a break from the unsteady beats. 

Mikaela shakes his head. “This time is different. He’s a seventh progenitor. None of us can come close to his level of power.”

“But I bet that if I transform into a demon—”

“Do not finish that sentence, Yuu. You can’t even control it.”

The heads of those witnessing the discussion flicker back and forth between the two participants. 

“It might be different this time,” Yuichiro says with a determined look. “We won’t know unless we try.”

“It’s too risky.”

“I agree with the vampire,” Makoto interferes, stepping forward to grab some attention. “You may be capable of killing our target, but don’t forget we’ll be the ones dealing with the demon side of you once it’s done. There’s no point to any of this if we end up dying as well.”

As thick-skulled as ever, Yuichiro takes course after the door. “We’ll figure something out on our way there, then.”

Mikaela shows no restraint in his growl. “You’re being an idiot again, Yuu,” he barks.

“If it means saving her, I’ll be the biggest, most dumbest idiot in the world.”

Had you been on the opposing side, teaming up with Mikaela as it used to be, it’s a given you’d be pissed at his lack of thought process, too. But you’re on his side now, or better said, he has chosen to aid you in a fight that doesn’t concern him, one that could put his life at risk.

With this point of view in mind, you see a will of iron where you once noticed foolish stubbornness. You feel accepted and less alone, because it’s a given no one understands human flaws the way Yuichiro does.

“Why are you being so stubborn?” Mikaela stomps after him. “You don’t even know this child!”

Yuichiro pauses, then peers past his shoulder to land his green emeralds on you. “I can’t stand watching my family cry.”

You raise your hands to your cheeks on an impulse, where hot tears soak up your digits. Usually, you would feel embarrassed, weak, even. But thanks to Yuichiro, it feels natural. 

Crying is, after all, human nature. 

With a firm nod, Shinoa seems to have settled her thoughts into proper order. “Everyone, gear up. I don’t know how, but…” She looks your way, displaying silent comfort with her eyes. “We will rescue that child. It’s what we were trained for, after all.”

You dip your face in your hands and curl down. You feel relief, but also too much shame for the risks you’ll be forcing them to take. No one has even tried questioning what you were doing outside in the first place. 

“You guys...thank you.”

Everyone scatters around soon afterwards to slip into their uniforms and grab the essentials. It’s a little past midnight, you are told. Aoi’s kidnapping must have happened at ten, so she has been at the hands of the vampires for around two hours, God only knows in what type of care. 

You shove some bandages inside your backpack, a small bottle of disinfectant and the stuffed rabbit Aoi left behind the day she came over. You pull the zipper across and throw the bag over your shoulders. When you twirl around, eager to get moving, you come across Mikaela at the door.

He doesn’t say anything, just leans on the frame with his arms folded in front of him, irritation visible despite the mask of nonchalance he carries for a face. Evidently, he wants to make it clear that you’ve made him upset. 

“You can say you hate me if you want. I won’t hold it against you.” 

You’re given some spare seconds of plain staring before he opens his mouth. 

“This could have been avoided.”

“Sorry, okay?” You’re in no position to be demanding anything, that much you understand, so you keep your voice at the level of murmurs. “I didn’t know she was following me. I checked after me countless of times and-”

“No, this whole ordeal started way before that.” He sharpens his glare, where scarlet replaces what was once an inviting color of sweet wine. “I thought many things of you, but cowardice wasn’t one of them.”

You scoff. “Oh, that’s shallow coming from the guy who’s always trying to kidnap Yuichiro behind our backs.” Already, you find it hard not to refute, but with a deep intake of air, you tone down the energy in your voice. “Call me a coward all you want, but we both know these guys are as stubborn as they come and Guren is their end goal like it or not. I, personally, would rather die of natural causes than willingly throw myself at the hands of that monster. Hell, even vampires sound like a far better deal if you ask me. Regardless of everything, this is my life and I get to decide what to do with it.” 

He shakes his head with movements that are barely visible. His eyes remain sealed to yours, thin brows pushing into them from above. It’s quite easy to tell his image of you has changed for the worse. “I don't care whether you leave or not. The fact of the matter is you weren’t owning up to the problems you created in the first place and we would have been left to deal with implications that shouldn’t concern us.”

You blink slowly at him, incredulous in the way your mouth hangs partially open. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

The sarcasm he huffs out feels like a slap on your face. “For starters, you dragged us to this region under the presumptuous excuse that no one would come for us.”

“You make it sound as if I obligated you people to come here. I made a suggestion and we voted on it.”

Unwilling to listen, he continues. “What you got was a new reality you couldn’t handle, so you made up a romantic fantasy.”

“Oh, you better stop right there, Mikaela.” A barrier raises over your voice, transforming it into impenetrable stone. “You’re a vampire, in case you’ve forgotten. You know nothing about human emotions, much less my own.” 

He raises a brow. The way he looks at you feels like some form of insult. “Except you outright told me.”

You don't know why you laugh. Perhaps to salvage what’s left of your dignity. “Fuck you, Mikaela.”

“I really tried threading around the matter carefully.” An extra second of silence is enough to make the pause uncomfortably long. “...but then you started getting dramatic.”

“Excuse me?”

“I think you were trying to guilt trip me into returning your affections.”

You throw your arms over your head, eyes wide as you squat down because, really , that’s how appalled you are. “Oh my God, Mikaela!” You don’t care if anyone hears you, or if the entire village is woken up by your outburst. 

“What did you expect me to think?” His tone stays in its normal range, though it betrays the anger he physically portrays. “I tried helping you many times, but you chose to seclude yourself anyway, and instead of getting better, you somehow got worse.”

“It’s called grieving! There are many stages to it. Perhaps you should read about it!”

“Everyone was willing to lend you a hand. Getting to this point was your choice. You chose solitude. You chose to cry. You chose to bicker with everyone. You chose to stay quiet.”

“Damn you, Mikaela!”

“You let your demon take over.”

“Go to hell!”

“Everyone knew you weren't okay. Even Aoi noticed. But you were too submerged in your own selfishness to even consider that those who esteem you would naturally worry. What else did you think Aoi would do if not try to bring you back when you didn’t bother to say goodbye?”

Your fingers feel numb and weightless. The boiling indignation has finally evaporated, but it left behind a ticking time bomb of emotions at risk of detonating should he dare to prod you the wrong way. 

Mikaela sighs through his nose. “I thought you were different,” he voices softly, as if expressing bitter acceptance. “But you have reminded me that all humans are the same. Greed is in your nature.”

The coil in you snaps under pressure. 

Mikaela called you selfless more than once during the time you got to know each other, and for him to be stripping you off that title now feels like he’s leaving you naked in front of judging eyes. 

You feel miserable.

He makes you feel miserable.

“I hate you,” you mutter, pronouncing the word carefully as if talking to deaf ears. “No, I despise you with all of my being. I should have just let you die inside that fucking sewer on your own!” With the revelation comes a sudden dizziness that pushes your forehead into your hands for a moment’s pause. 

The next time you look up, there’s a slight change in the way Mikaela looks at you. It’s not the resentment you were expecting, but an expression of distant concern.

Going by the sudden surge of power making you feel all of the value you had lost for yourself, chances are you have failed to sustain Karkodan’s demonic aura.

To hell with it , you think. For once in your life, you feel safer in Karkodan’s embrace than anywhere else. You feel formidable and acceptant of your desires. There’s no moral compass holding you back. You just exist.

It feels great. You want more, so much more.

“Perhaps killing you will solve my problems, huh, Mikaela.” You pull your fan out and flick it open. A perturbing smile rips your lips apart, showing teeth in between. “Won’t you lend me a hand and die quickly?”

Just as Mikaela assumes a proper stance, Yuichiro scrambles into the room, flailing his arms around him. The confrontation must have reached downstairs. 

“Woah, whoa, hey, wait. Let’s all chill for a moment, alright?” He stands at the center of the square room, arms outstretched as he drags his stare back and forth between both pairs of eyes, which are equally red in color. 

You glower. “Don’t intervene, human.” Still your voice, except it sounds vicious and merciless. 

“Come on now,” says Yuichiro as he walks in your direction, offering you a casual look and his signature smile. “You’re our family, and you’re human, too.” 

His hand is swatted away before he can even place it on your shoulder. 

“Don’t touch me,” you sneer. 

“Your demon has got nothing on you.” 

He takes another step forward.

“I said don’t touch me!” 

Before you can finish, his pair of arms wrap around your stiff body and squeeze tight, gluing the front of your body to him. Even in your current state, you get paralized by shock, not having expected such a risky approach. 

Mikaela’s warnings become background noise once Yuichiro leans his mouth to your ear and whispers as if sharing a secret, “It’s okay to be greedy. I’m loads of greedy, too. But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It just means we’re still human despite everything.”

In his words, you hear forgiveness, because, according to Mikaela, you have quite the number of sins to atone for; you hear reassurance, because you’ve been questioning your humanity a lot as of recently; and you feel understood, because he’s imperfect as well and doesn’t judge.

The storm passes before it has a chance to fully develop. 

You feel your body gradually purifying from the demonic energy. Your shoulders fall limp and you expel the remaining tension with a long sigh. 

“We’ll get her back,” he says, “I promise.”

When you look towards the door, Mikaela is nowhere to be seen. 

Chapter Text

You chose the last row of seats, right beside the window, hoping it would spare you of questions and judging eyes, but that doesn't hold Kimizuki back. He swings his arm over the seat and twists around to land on you his pair of wary eyes. Though you can’t make out the details of his face properly, you hear ill emotion in his voice; anger and exasperation. 

"There are many cities southeast from here, so which is it?" 

Yoichi is to his left, right in front of you, aiming the beam of his flashlight towards the map Kimizuki holds in his tight grasp. 

"I don't know," you say, trying not to be affected by the desperation in his tone. You keep yours cool, essentially because any higher volume might crack it apart. You're already vulnerable as it is. "He didn't say."

Kimizuki clicks his tongue, which you feel is directed at your incompetence. "Did he give us a time limit?" 

"Didn't day either."

"Are you kidding me?" he barks. Any more twisting on his seat and he would be able to smack his forehead against yours. "Did the bastard tell you anything at all?" 

Yoichi has to hold him back, though he hardly gets the job done. Up close and personal, you're able to see the bags under Kimizuki's eyes more clearly. He's evidently angry, and he's taking it out on you, but beneath it all, you know he's beyond worried for Aoi's safety. Maybe, you think, maybe she reminds him of his sister. 

Knowing this, you accept your role as the receiver of his frustrations. It’s the least form of atonement you can offer for now. 

"Sorry," you mumble, averting your eyes towards the window because keeping your gaze on him any longer would be risking he sees the tears coating your eyes. "I know nothing else."

"Well, you could have asked him!" 

"I was knocked out."

Just as he opens his mouth, the van runs over what feels like a deep crater on the road. It makes everyone on board wince, the jerk so rough you feel it reach your bones. 

It doubles on Kimizuki, who gets his head smashed into the ceiling.

He kind of deserves it, but you aren't in any position to comment on his behavior the way you tend to, not that the desire is there, either. 

Storms of pink color transfer their glare over to the driver's seat. Kimizuki holds a hand to his head, words right beneath a growl. "Hey, watch your driving. There are passengers here." 

Mikaela looks back through the rear view mirror with passive, red eyes. His expression hides behind a questionable poker face. "Not my fault the streets haven't had any maintenance since 2012," he says rather calmly, making it sound as if he was in the middle of a casual exchange. 

"All the more reason to drive carefully," Kimizuki seethes through gritted teeth. "Some of us are actually made of human bones and flesh."

Mikaela's eyes narrow, the movement no more than a flutter, and it is only visible because of how bright his irises shine in contrast to the darkness. 

Yuichiro turns back towards Kimizuki. He's frowning lightly; could pass for a pout, actually. "Hey, don't be rude to Mika. He's trying really hard."

The map crumples inside Kimizuki's fists. "Oh, I'm sorry." He's anything but discreet about his sarcasm. "How about you try reading this goddamned map in complete darkness and while the car is moving?" 

Yuichiro stretches out his arm. "Sure, pass it to me."

Kimizuki jerks, incredulous about the answer he got in return. He stutters for words, insults, perhaps, but ends up relenting and tosses the map at him. "Doubt your tiny brain will be able to comprehend it," he mutters. 

"Yeah? Watch me." Yuichiro faces the front view once again and sinks into his seat, map open as gets into a murmured conversation with the vampire. 

Mitsuba resides on the second row, right behind the driver's seat. With her arms crossed over her chest, she doesn't bother with turning around and just tosses out into the air, "Cool your jets, Kimizuki. It's 2:00 a.m and I don't feel like dealing with your crap."

He grasps onto the seat in front of him and leans ahead to aim a widened glare on the blonde girl. "My crap? I don't see anyone else questioning where we're going or how we'll go about it. I don't suppose you have a plan up your sleeve, huh?" 

Beside you, Shinoa tries to get a word in, but Yoichi steals the chance from her without realizing. He chuckles lightly, the habit of his that indicates he's nervous. "Let's all calm down a bit."

Makoto huffs, arms crossed as well. He looks at the pink head beside him. "Though I don't condemn losing your cool, I agree with you. Seems to me like you all have yet to realize we're willingly driving towards a vampire noble."

"About time you realize," Mikaela mutters, looking back through the rear view mirror once again. "I told you from the start this was a trap."

"But," Makoto continues, peering with hard eyes at the blond. "I would rather be found dead than have to live with the thought that I refused to help someone in need. What I mean to say is: we need to be smart about this."

"We won't come unscathed from this," Mikaela mutters, loud enough for everyone to hear. You believe he even gives you a second worth of his glance before taking it back to the road. "I guarantee it. Ferid is not to be messed with. You're all putting Yuu's life at risk."

Mitsuba huffs out a breath, her head inclined downwards. "Geez, can you be any more selfish?" she mutters lowly, as if afraid of speaking her mind despite the tough act. "There's an eight year old's life on the line and all you think about are your personal feelings?" 

"He's a vampire," replies Makoto. "What else did you expect? He won't understand compassion."

Just as Shinoa parts her lips, Yuichiro swirls to the back. His brows are furrowed inwards, eyes swirling with emotion. One would think he was the one being called out. "Guys, stop it. This isn't fair."

No one has directed a word your way, but there isn't much to be said for you to know that they all see the same root to the problem. Just the fact you don't form part in the conversation somehow makes it clear. You're witnessing the consequences of your choices from a front row seat. If the group’s ties weaken after this, you would be to blame. 

"Who's to say the vampires didn't trace us because we have one of their own kind with us?" Makoto's answer is followed up by the impact of Yuichiro's fist on the backrest. 

"Mika is not to blame for this."

"Then whose fault is it?" asks Kimizuki, implying the obvious, though it receives no answer, for better or worse. 

Not long after, Makoto turns back to face you. There's determination on his expression, unwillingness to continue beating around the bush. "Tell us, why were you out without reporting it to anyone? Past curfew, no less. We may be somewhere remote, but that doesn't make it free of danger."

Your presence shrinks to near nothingness. Everyone else's towers above your own. Only Makoto holds eye contact, but it’s as if all of the heads have suddenly grown a pair of eyes where there should only be hair. You feel like a priest before a crowd of displeased followers. 

"I'm not obligated to say." The palm of your hand muffles the sound and you look away immediately after. 

You're being held between a rock and a hard place, yet your pride and stubbornness somehow come through in the end. 

No one will stand by you, you know that well, so your instincts have started acting on autopilot, because part of being human means you won't admit defeat no matter how clear the facts may be against you. 

Human nature is despicable like that, or perhaps it's just you who's despicable. 

Whatever speck of neutrality Makoto bothered enough to preserve extinguishes without a trace, now replaced by unhitched irritation. "We're putting our lives at risk here. Technically, you pretty much are obligated to tell us, and your reasons better be worth it."

You refuse to give Makoto a peek into your bloodshot eyes, but he appears to take it as further uncooperation and growls under his breath. 

Shinoa has had enough of everyone's bullshit. She claps twice, demanding attention and silence, then states firmly, "Guys, stop it. I understand we're all a little on edge here, but let's focus on seeing our mission through to the end first. Anything else will be discussed afterwards."

When Makoto turns back around, silence starts reigning within the van. It is denser than mist, louder than the buzzing of flies. Now that the real voices have dimmed, it is time for the ones inside your head to take center stage. They tell you how badly you've failed, how selfish you are, gifting you with an extra dose of unease. 

Pride kept you distanced, but you were never really alone. Not once. Solitude isn't the same as desiring longer periods of personal space than those around you. 

True loneliness is absolute darkness. It is the deprivation of any chance, to be given up on. True loneliness is a cold shoulder, the absence of late night talks and Uno games; that which leaves you meek and bendable, unvalued, and it comes with feeling your absolute worst because suddenly you matter less and there's nothing you can do but to accept it as well-earned punishment.

You didn’t know true loneliness before today. 

Suddenly, you want Mikaela to hold you like he hasn't done in a very long while. You're supposed to be angry, and perhaps you still are, but you crave his touch even more so. He was your only pillar. You were able to stay pieced together because he was there. Now you're completely alone. 

You should save the rest of your thoughts for Aoi, though. You need to think around her, and of a plan to rescue her. 

If she's still alive, that is.

No, don't think like that. 

Your eyes flicker to Shinoa, who says your name with sweet tenderness, the kind you weren't expecting from anyone any time soon. 

You keep your head angled the opposite way for the sake of not showing how broken you feel. 

She continues in whispers, so as to keep the conversation between you both. "We haven't known you for long. You joined us only recently, after all, but it's an unspoken policy of ours that any member is immediate family. We have tried doing our best to include you, Makoto and Mikaela, and maybe we haven't done such a perfect job…"

"What are you getting at, Shinoa?" Your voice is heavy, dense with the tears you're keeping in your throat. 

"I understand if there were ever times where you felt like you couldn't confide in us." Her brows scrunch into a worried frown. "But now, more than anything, I want to know what’s going on in your head. Not only for Aoi's sake, but yours, too."

The sigh you release indicates your surrender. It's the least you can give back for her compassion. "Okay," you whisper, sniffing. "What do you want to know?"

She curves a tiny smile. "I don't want to make it an interrogation. I just want to listen and understand, because I'm sure you had your reasons."

"You might be disappointed." As you notice that her determination not once wavers, your reluctance falters completely, and with another sigh, you continue. "Where to even start? To put it simply, my own convenience is the only reason I'm even with you today. I needed teammates with powerful curse gears, and Guren seemed to have enough faith in your strength. But I never really liked any of you. I spoke crap about your liability and functionality as a group. I didn't think those three…" You nod to the front, implying Yoichi, Kimizuki and Yuichiro. You don't even care if any of them hear you. "...deserved a Black Demon Series. I didn't want any part in your family ties. My goal was to leave as soon as I deemed you disposable and that's what I was doing."

There isn't much you can make out from Shinoa's face besides deep pondering. You expected her to judge, tell you to get off the van, but she's retaining her cool. 

"Okay, and what do you think about us now?" she says suddenly, catching you off guard with her open stare of maroon color. 

"Huh?" 

"You said all of that in past tense. Have your opinions on us changed then?"

"Um…" You missed that detail, but you suppose she's right. "Well, yeah, but don't you get what I'm trying to get at? What I've done proves I'm a hypocrite."

"You thought of us a certain way until you got to know us. Most humans do that."

You ponder to the ceiling, then drive your stare back to hers. "...that doesn't make it okay, though."

"Maybe not, but it doesn't really affect me because I know the kind of person that you really are."

You stare at her long and hard, showing incredulousness in the way your lips stutter for an answer. Here she is, looking like you didn't just tell her how much you hated them. 

"Maybe you didn't hear me quite clearly, Shinoa," you say, rather deadpan. 

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" She is finally less composed, though not because of anger or frustration, rather, from wanting to get her point across. "Whatever you thought before, whatever happened, I forgive you. I really don't care. You're one us. Your reasons for joining our group don't take away from the battles we've faced together, the hardships, the table games late at night around the campfire, the meals you made for us on multiple occasions. You are one of us until you choose not to be, and if you make a mistake, what the hell? We all have at some point, and we will probably continue to fuck up many times more."

You’re at a loss for words.

Forgiveness. Is that all you needed? Thanks to Shinoa, you feel like the weight of your mistakes has been partially lifted off your shoulders. The relief is amazing, almost enough to compare to a drug you can't help but want more of.

Then come the tears at long last, and just like Shinoa's forgiveness, they take another burden off your system. 

Crying isn't weakness, you realize. It is healing, and it purifies the body of what it doesn't need. 

"Shinoa…" You dip your head into your hands and sigh. "I'm sorry. I fucked up."

If she has forgiven you, you feel it appropriate you voice the apology. Even if the order is all over the place. 

You feel her hand on your shoulder. She just rests it there, accompanying you through your breakthrough. The others have probably caught on by now, but they leave the job to Shinoa for the time being. 

"I just don't want to see Guren again." Your mouth goes loose on its own. Little by little, you unload the baggage to the ears your squad leader has so kindly offered you. You raise your head and wipe a few leftover drops from your cheeks. "He's hiding things from me. Bad things. Shinoa, I'm…I’m scared of him and of what he has to say to me. Frankly, I don't want to know. There's just so much stuff, so much crap he has done to us all. He's a monster. I refuse to see him ever again. Please, don't make me."

"Okay, okay," she soothes, evidently not used to such a side of you. All things considered, though, she seems glad to have gotten through to you. "There's still a lot I don't understand, but we can figure it out once we rescue Aoi. We will talk about it then, okay? I promise."

You're aware of how much of a mess you are, but you don't care at the moment. You nod, feeling quite thankful. "I don't think I deserve this much from you."

"Don't be silly," she chuckles, and leaves it at that. Her hand drops back to her side and she looks to the front, a short smile curving her lips at the edges. "I'm glad we had this talk."

You nod, feeling content despite the lingering puffiness of your face.

You look to the front as well, and your eyes immediately find the back of Mikaela's head. You think of how soft his blond locks were in between your fingers when you had the luxury of touching him. The single thought creates a cadence of old ones that spiral you down a road of memories. 

They make you smile, but the pang in your chest tells you that maybe they shouldn't provoke such emotions. 

You can't make out how you feel about him anymore. 

"Say, Shinoa," you call casually, wary of keeping your tone down. "How do you deal with stuff like feelings and lust?" 

You're an open book. No longer ashamed of anything. Shinoa has seen you crumble, and now that you're pieced back into place, some girl talk seems like the least embarrassing topic one can discuss. 

Shinoa doesn't think the same, it appears. Her cheeks flare out of their pale color as she stutters out incoherent sounds, trying to find her words. "What?" she whispers loudly, then drastically drops the volume. "Oh, I-I, um…" With a single blink, newfound realization twists her expression into one of surprise. She looks at Mikaela, then you. "Wait, does that mean you…?"

You don't bother to hide the truth from your expression. "Isn't it obvious?" 

She chuckles, somewhat nervously. "Not really. Both you and Mikaela are really hard to read." She thinks for a second. "A lot of things do make sense now that you've mentioned it, though. So…does he feel the same?" 

You only huff through your nose. 

"I take it things didn't go well?" 

"...it's complicated." You throw your head back, eyes on the ceiling, and sigh out loud. "Not like we're in the right circumstances to try anything, anyway." 

She nods slowly, seeming disappointed herself, though just a bit. "To answer your question, I just try everyday to block those thoughts and feelings. It requires a lot of willpower, though."

You hum lazily. "Haven't you tried forgetting about Yuichiro?" 

Her lips part with a light hearted chuckle. "Things would be much more simple if it was that easy."

"...guess so."

The next round of silence makes the hairs on your neck rise. Something is odd about Shinoa this time. You can somehow tell her usual personality is about to come back. 

She slumps over you, hand on her forehead for dramatic effect. Sighing out, she chants, "Oh, whatever will we do about our unrequited romances. Such poor maidens that we are…with no other choice but to bring our lechery to bed with us."

You playfully shove her off. "Lay off, will you?" Your words reflect the smile you have on your face. 

You share a discreet fit of giggles, but it doesn't get to last very long. Soon afterwards, the van stops abruptly, sending everyone on board off their seats. 

"Yuu, you idiot!" barks Mikaela before Kimizuki can cuss at him for the action. "You were holding the map upside down!" 

"Eh?!" 

The passengers in the back deflate, not really surprised given that it's Yuichiro, but very much disappointed. 

Kimizuki smacks his forehead and sighs. "Even the little faith I placed in you was overdoing it."

Mitsuba, being the closest to the navigator's seat, plunges forward to hit Yuichiro on the head. "How does one get so stupid? Must be a talent for sure."

The blood drops to your feet when you realize that: "Wait, does that mean we've driven in the opposite direction? Are we that much farther away?" 

Mikaela flings his arm onto the backrest of the adjacent seat between him and Yuichiro, twisting around to scan the group properly. His red eyes connect with yours for the first time since you hopped in. They bear no ill emotion, just absolute neutrality, as if you didn't know each other enough to make it anything else. "I was already going southeast before he was given the map. I took a few wrong turns at most, but it'll cost us some time to find the right path again."

You grab onto the row of seats in front of you and maneuver your way out of the vehicle. "I'll go take a look." Out of everyone, you know the region the most, after all. 

You flip Yoichi's flashlight on and search around for any familiar landscapes. The most you take are a couple of steps around the vehicle, wary of not getting too far.

In spite of the darkness, you spot the highest mountain the region has to offer. It's quite far already, and the village is on the other side, so it's safe to bet you're a fair distance into the journey. 

Can astronomy help you locate southeast? You wouldn't know either way. It's kind of a long shot, but if you continue driving, then maybe you'll have a better chance of knowing where you are. 

Classical bickering welcomes you back into the van. If you didn't know better, you would think they'd be about to declare mutiny on Yuichiro. 

"Come on, guys," he chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. "Gimme a break."

You grab onto the frame of the entrance, not quite making it inside. "It's okay, Yuu. You haven't slept at all, I get it." You steer your gaze over the rest of your comrades. "Neither one of you have. I'll take the wheel. I know the area best, so it should only take me a short while to locate where we are."

Mikaela intervines. "You don't look much better yourself. I'll drive. Just give me the directions."

It's official. He really doesn't have much emotion to spare. A normal man wouldn't have invited the person who threatened him with death over to share the same space and air. 

Then again, it would do you good to learn a thing or two about placing emotions aside during missions. Right. You have to get to Aoi in the most efficient manner possible, and if such involves sitting for long hours beside Mikaela, then so be it. 

Following your nod of approval, Yuichiro hops down from the passenger's seat. He gives your shoulder an encouraging pat and climbs to the back, sliding the door shut after him. 

You're the last one to get in before the engine rattles to life. Immediately, you're off. 

While Mikaela drives, you scan your surroundings with the help of Yoichi's flashlight, though you limit its use to avoid dragging unwanted attention to the vehicle. 

A surprising bunch of many miles and turns later, managed by your indications, it would seem you've made it back to the correct path. If your navigation skills are correct, going onwards should only be a matter of driving straight in the same direction. 

Rays of sunlight are beginning to poke out from behind the horizon. There isn't much you can do but pray to the entities that they bless the vampire who kidnapped Aoi with some bits of extra patience. 

You try to sleep the remaining hours away, since you will definitely need all the rest you can get. Your mind, however, is racing like never before and it doesn’t let you catch the bliss that comes with unconsciousness. 

Maybe receiving some answers from Mikaela will give you less questions to worry about, but how do you start talking to someone you threatened with murder not so long ago? 

"...sorry," you murmur into the palm of your hand, which holds your head from the chin. You keep your eyes on the window to your side, feeling the sting of what might soon be a sunny day. 

Silence stretches out for so long you think he won't answer. You've almost forgotten you ever said something in the first place by the time he replies with, "Me, too."

You expect him to say something else, but he doesn't come through in the end, and the silence that begins turns out to be the annoying kind once again, not the peaceful one. 

It doesn't help that everyone in the back is dead asleep. You really envy them. 

"He wouldn't…" You swallow, afraid to voice the thought out loud. "...kill Aoi, right?" 

His eyes are fixed on the road as he sighs. "Honestly, I don't know. One can never tell with that creep."

The complete opposite of reassuring, great. 

"But he wants us there," you try to justify, because if he won't give you concrete answers, you might as well try creating the ones you wish to hear. "If he kills her, he loses us."

"Ferid doesn't bargain. He just tricks his prey into thinking he will."

Those pretty lips would fare better shut. What were you even thinking? Mikaela has never been one to sugarcoat things. 

"That bad, huh?" you breathe out, your voice shaking. 

You catch him clutching the steering wheel from the corner of your sight. When you move your stare upward, you see the protruded lines on his jaw. 

"He's a monster," he mutters. One deeper look at his face and you're almost sure he's reminiscing. "We're really risking a lot by coming all the way here."

"Why does he want Yuichiro?" 

"Understanding that deranged mind of his is beyond me. Could be as simple as finding personal indulgence out of others' misery." There's a pause in which he wonders whether to speak the next bit of his thoughts or not, but it seems he eventually settles on telling you. "He found personal enjoyment out of murdering my brothers and sisters in front of my eyes."

It's the first time he has ever brought his past into conversation. Actually, you have never even bothered to question it. You just figured he wouldn't have relented any information. 

"I'm sorry." 

"I'm over it," he answers. This time around, though, you can't tell if his indifference is real. "But Yuu most likely isn't, and any emotional imbalance could trigger a transformation. If Ferid has yet to kill Aoi, there's a chance he's waiting for a crowd to do it."

"Then we should sneak up on him and steal Aoi before he notices."

It's foolish, you realize. But Mikaela isn't being reassuring, per se. You need to help yourself if he won't. 

"...so gullible," he says under his breath. "I got my family killed with that exact thinking. Yuu was stolen from me and I got turned into a vampire. Put two and two together."

You finally lose your cool. "Okay, okay, I get it, alright? I fucked up. I'm stupid and selfish and I fucked everything up. If anyone dies today, it'll be the sin winning me a place in hell." Your voice breaks with the weight of your last sentence, a sob coming to life in between. You wait in silence for the emotions to pass, but the tears only flow more freely the longer you sit there without any comfort. 

Again, you feel stupid. You turn your head away from possible inspection and push out a shaky breath through parted lips. "Sorry, I shouldn't be crying, I know. Just…ignore me."

The last thing to ever die is hope. As long as it has yet to happen, you can keep on believing Aoi will be fine, and that she will return home safely. 

But what if destiny has already decided its course? Maybe Karma wants you to finally learn your lesson. If Aoi is dead, would that have been her destiny? Or something you made happen? Is there any prayer that could change anything at all? 

You don't know what scares you more. Losing Aoi or knowing that you were the cause of it for the rest of your life.

The next breath you take could rival the cry of a dying animal. Your hand clamps over your mouth with a resounding slap and you turn away entirely from Mikaela, unable to say anything. 

Briefly a minute later, gentle fingers start threading through your hair. The touch is so light you doubt it's even there. It must have taken him a lot of pondering to make his move.

"I should have chosen my words more carefully," he whispers, confirming that you aren’t imagining the touch. "Sorry."

You don't come out from hiding, but you welcome the touch, and Mikaela must be sensing that. He keeps it going for a short while, his fingers becoming progressively purposeful in their stroking. 

How is it that such a small action holds the power to soothe you like this? Maybe you've dropped your standards way too low for this guy. 

When he takes his hand away, yours races after it. You don't look back, fearful of rejection at the feeling of his intent eyes on you, but then his slim fingers weave in between yours, holding your hand tight, and you release a breath through your nose you weren't aware of keeping in. 

He doesn't let go for the rest of the ride, even as your palm starts sweating. He gifts you with tender glances every now and then, and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze when it seems you're about to cry again. 

You dare to expose your face to the light only after your tears have completely dried. You look at the front view and gasp a quiet breath. 

This has got to be it. There's no other city in the southeast part of the region big enough to be of any relevance. Ferid must have meant this very place. 

"We're here."

Chapter Text

One could hear a pin drop in this silence. 

Instead, you have Yuichiro monkeying around the front desk, picking up things at random and spinning on the chair. 

Even in dire times, he has the audacity to get bored when the waiting time gets too long. Meanwhile, you feel like you might throw up butterflies at any moment; reason why you're crouched on the floor with your knees hiked up to your chest. 

You kind of envy that mentality. Then again, his tranquility could be a product of gullibility. There's a big gap between being positive and lacking proper thought process, and you're almost certain Yuichiro's resolve is fueled by the latter. 

Following the hurried click of heels against the floor, Yoichi and Mikaela emerge from the staircase. As the only ones in the group with perfect eyesight, Mikaela with his vampire abilities and Yoichi because of his demon's eyes, they were on lookout at the rooftop of the building. 

Yuichiro discards the chair to trot in the vampire's direction. The rest of you leave your spots as well and circle around the newcomers, eager for a favorable report. 

Mikaela's nod is stiff, his voice faint in stating, "We found him."

Ferid Bathory. 

Yoichi takes on the word, giving the rest of his peers a quick rundown with his eyes. "He's waiting at the public school."

The downtown area is a long strip. About six miles of distance, or so Kimizuki estimated after a quick study of the map. You made a stop in an office building located near the start. The school is at the other end. 

You don't realize how tight you've kept your jaw until the urge to speak parts your mouth. Through mild shakiness, you murmur, "And Aoi?" 

"I didn't see her there. Ferid's just standing on a pole by himself." Yoichi looks worried about how you might react to the information, thus further elaborates, "She must be inside the school, I'm sure. Ferid wouldn't want it to be easy for us."

Your shoulders drop with the sigh you let out. "So no reports on her condition?" 

The absence of an answer states enough.

Kimizuki takes a step further. "How many vampires?" The dry tone of his voice means he expects the worst. 

"...just him," murmurs Yoichi, looking down. He doesn't know if that qualifies as good news or bad ones. Ferid could easily rival an entire fleet of vampires depending on his rank. 

Everyone seems surprised, save for Yuichiro who clicks his tongue in what appears to be strengthened confidence . He's the only spirited soul amongst the group. "Bastard's cocky, I see. It'll be his downfall!" 

Mikaela glares in his direction. "Don't underestimate him, Yuu."

With both hands on his waist, he tilts his head to the side and pouts. "The way I see it, he's underestimating us." He says it so innocently. It's no wonder Mikaela calls it quits with a sigh. Debating with an idiot is the equivalent of talking to a wall, after all. 

He turns to the others instead, perhaps hoping he'll get his logic through to the rest if not Yuichiro. "Ferid's a seventh progenitor."

Makoto flinches, his eyes wide. "You're kidding! How can we be sure he doesn't already know we're here?" 

"He seems nonchalant."

Kimizuki huffs at Yoichi's guess. His eyes hold a hard stare behind his glasses. "Could easily be an act to draw us in."

Mitsuba's concerns are fairly visible despite her closed eyes. You can tell she’s camouflaging a nervous tick behind folded arms. "He purposely chose an open field. It will be impossible to get close undetected." Even her voice appears to differ from the usual monotone grey. 

"I doubt he'd need his eyes to know where we are," Makoto states matter of factly, who's then followed by Mikaela's nod of approval. 

"We don't know what his motives are either."

And in case anyone has forgotten already, you note with wariness. "Don't forget we have a child hostage also."

You realize the odds stack further against you with every point that's brought into the conversation. The flame in you dims along with those of your comrades. 

Mitsuba looks beside her. "What do you propose, squad leader?" 

Yuichiro butts in before Shinoa can emit a sound. He steps forward, fists raised in display of encouragement. A grin covers half of his face. "Come on, guys. The answer's simple. We go there, beat his ass and rescue Aoi."

While Kimizuki takes care of punching his apparently empty skull, the rest of you deliver tired glares in his direction. It's not even surprising anymore, just overwhelmingly appalling. 

Makoto pushes a noisy sigh. “Didn’t you hear anything of what we just said?”

“Yuu, you’re an idiot," states Mikaela, deadpan. 

Kimizuki shakes his hand free of the slight prickle. “...so stupid," he mutters. 

Then follows Mitsuba, shaking her head. “Where did you leave your brain?” 

"Guys–!” Yuichiro is hushed from his developing rampage. You have your index finger in front of your lips. Makoto and Shinoa are the other two mimicking the pose. 

After everyone has calmed down, Yoichi takes the word, a smile resting comfortably on his face. "Is ambushing him our only option, though? What if he only wants to talk?" 

Yoichi. Ever the kind soul. 

Mikaela is there to refute instantly, however. "Ferid isn't the type to discuss things in a civilized manner. He must have some ulterior motive behind this supposed bargain."

The conversation isn't getting anyone anywhere. You've been trying your best to stay patient, but the truth is you might easily double Yuichiro in recklessness at the moment. You just want to get going already. Aoi's life depends on how well you manage the time. 

Looking to the front, past the two girls, you spot an entrance to the underground subway. It's a square cabin with walls of glass containing the staircase within. 

Can vampire senses reach below ground as well? you wonder. 

Meanwhile, the conversation continues under Shinoa's control. Her thin voice is poised and dignified, and it raises in volume to match the tone of a proper leader. "Whatever our decision, it has to be centered around saving the child. Confronting Ferid should be secondary." She makes a brief pause, then adds, "...if not avoidable."

Makoto has his arms crossed, hip slightly tilted on one side. His demon weapon is attached to his back. You wonder if the thing is heavy. Not all of you were lucky in choosing weapons that can shrink to the size of a key. 

"I say the most we can get out of a fight with a seventh progenitor," he begins. "is two minutes at best, and that is if we're all involved."

That doesn't sound promising, but you still wonder: could mere minutes be enough for you to get inside the school and snatch Aoi? Karkodan could help in heightening your physical abilities. 

"Maybe we can work with that," you conclude out loud. 

Makoto quirks his brow while looking at you, showing skepticism. "What do you mean?" 

Shinoa, however, looks hopeful. "Do you have a plan?" 

"Nothing short of crazy, I'll give you that," you warn, yet Yuichiro perks up, growing an inch higher in his excitement. 

“We like crazy," he reassures. 

“No one asked you." Kimizuki lands a jab on his ribs, but the action isn't nearly as strong as the previous punch.

Enough with the bickering, you decide. Time to get the strategizer in you out of its shell. It's not a feature you used on a daily basis, since the hassle was generally left to the leader of your squad, but you can set up your brain to cook something when the circumstances demand it. 

“I was thinking the subway train goes right past the school." You point to the front, and their gazes follow. "We could use the tunnels to cross to the other side undetected.”

Makoto hums, sounding unsure. “What's the point of sneaking up on him if he'll know our position as soon as we step back out?" 

You curve the edge of your lip into a stiff smile, mainly because you're still unsure of your own thought process and your idea won’t be considered if you lack the confidence to back it up. "He would," you agree, "...unless there's a team keeping him distracted at his post."

Kimizuki leans forward, looking at you through a narrowed stare that isn't shy of communicating his doubts. His arms are crossed, appearing to display authority over you. "And you're sure two minutes is all you'd need to run into a school you've never been on, figure out your way across the hallways, guess which room the child is in, calm down her possible temper tantrum, snatch her and go back out without being detected?"

What a fucking pessimist. But you can't throw caution to the wind either. You're talking about endangering multiple lives in your name, and you need to live up to that request by getting results. 

Better to avoid thinking too much on that or else you'll chicken out before reaching the first stage. 

“Maybe you can stretch it out an extra two minutes?” Pitch jumping a bit high, you shrink into your shoulders and curve a nervous smile, but Kimizuki isn't the least bit swooned. 

“You make it sound like it’s a Four Horseman of John who we’re about to battle. How would we even know if you’ve made it in and out successfully?”

“Shinoa brought stopwatches," You glance at the mentioned girl for confirmation. She returns a nod, thus you continue, "We can set an exact time before splitting and act upon it.”

“What about after you’ve rescued her? We’d need a way to know you’ve succeeded, so we can retreat.”

“Yoichi can be our eyes from above.”

A moment of silence takes center stage, in which attempting to read their thoughts is no easy feat. Only Mikaela is outwardly suggestive of his disapproval, but that is to be expected. 

"We're not putting Yuu through such risks."

In retaliation, Yuichiro whips his head to the side, showing a weak scowl. "That's not for you to decide."

His lack of cooperation only triggers a nerve in Mikaela. "There's a chance he planned this so he can get to us two. It wouldn't be the first time."

Shinoa nods and starts talking before Yuichiro can get to his first complaint. "He's right. If it’s true that the vampires are keen on getting rid of the seraphs, then Ferid could be planning on killing Yuu for all we know.”

Yuichiro groans towards the ceiling, mouth hanging wide open. “Not you, too, Shinoa.”

"If he stays behind," says Makoto. "We'd be down three members. Two of them with a Black Demon Series. I don't think we can pull off a distraction with half the team."

Kimizuki sighs, looking just about done with the ineffectual arguing. "His demon isn't stable yet. Getting into any kind of battle could trigger a transformation."

"Oh, right," murmurs Makoto, rubbing the back of his head. "There's that also." 

Yuichiro growls again, as would a kid who has been denied playtime. Quite suddenly, however, an idea strikes him, one that’s worthy of a smart-ass smile, so he seems to think. "Alright, so you guys don't want me in battle and I don't want to stay behind doing nothing." He walks out of the circle and scoots in between you and Makoto to throw his arm over your shoulders. The sudden tug into his side makes you go stiff. "I'll go with her, then. How about that?" 

“No," comes Mikaela's dry reply. 

“I wasn’t asking you, Mika." He offers you one of his bright grins, playfully rocking you against him in what seems like encouragement. "My teammate here gets to decide if she wants me on board or not.”

Any kind of answer is a double edged sword. You can't believe Yuichiro put you on the spot like that. It's clear Mikaela would rather have him stay, but everyone here should already know the chances of him sprinting off on his own are ridiculously high. He will fare better by your side, following your every decision. Surely, Mikaela thinks the same, right? 

"I guess it's not a problem," you answer, though your tone of voice sounds unsure. 

Yuichiro is either oblivious to your ever-growing tension or merely feigns it. He's just happy to have a secured role in the mission. "Cool! It's settled then."

Shinoa doesn't seem to have any objections there. Two claps announce she has reached a final decision. "Get your supplements and gear ready, everybody. We'll be starting soon."

They're all far from eager, but the food on the table is scarce. Your plan is the only scrap left, and although stiff bread tastes terrible, it's better than starving to death. 

Kimizuki is giving the map a final once over with Yoichi by his side. 

A gut feeling tells you he's trying to formulate a last minute alternative and falling short of brain juice. 

The girls are fumbling with the bags in search of what you think are the stopwatches you mentioned. Hopefully, they're inside, because if not, the plan is essentially ruined. 

Makoto is leaning against the wall, thinking to himself, it appears. His stare is glued to the arms he keeps folded over his chest. 

You pass them all to head towards Mikaela. He's pacing around in a controlled frenzy, only stopping when you've gotten considerably closer. His expression is hard to read, though if you had to make a guess, it's like he wants to be angry at you, but knows it'd be inconsiderate to do so. 

With a deep intake of breath, you take the first word. "I'll make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. He'll be safe with me, I mean it."

He looks twice as tired after closing his eyes. The sigh that escapes him doesn't make a sound. "You've told me more than once that you wouldn't concern yourself with Yuu in any way, so why the sudden change?"

He calls you out in the calmest, most subtle of ways, but that doesn't stop the sting from hurting so damn much. 

You also hate that he's right. You haven't been the least bit shy about antagonizing Yuichiro in the past, and it just so happens you vented out the larger portion of your frustrations in front of Mikaela. Not once did he offer a reaction. Then again, it was naive of you to think he wouldn't consider it displeasing. 

You're at a loss for words. "Well, I-I did, but…" 

“How do you expect me to trust you now? I’d rather tie him up to a pillar.”

On an impulse, you grab his sleeve before he can walk away. Except that when you do get his attention once again, no words make it past the stutter of your lips. 

You keep your head down, immersed in the white floor tiles rather than the intense stare you feel on your forehead. 

Get it together, you tell yourself. 

“I-I…" You swallow. The action is perceptible to your ears, and most certainly his. "I will place his life before my own," you whisper, just for him to hear. Looking up, you add with the most conviction you've ever shown to anyone, "I swear it.”

A flicker of something flashes through his eyes, but it's gone before you can even guess what it meant. He opts for staring at you long and hard instead. Not quite a glare, but neither soft enough to call it an innocent glance.

A couple of seconds more and he shrugs his arm free. Just like with his prior actions, it's a strange mix of passive-aggressiveness. "My answer is still no. I'll try to convince him of staying."

He's off before the emotions inside you can get reflected on your face. It's better like that, though, since he's no longer deserving of witnessing your moments of weakness. 

Hearing approaching footsteps from behind, you breathe out the poisonous feelings and manage a neutral look once again. You turn to Shinoa and wave. 

“You okay?” she asks. The scene must have been witnessed by everyone else. 

"I'm good.”

She nods, not really convinced, but the situation calls for different priorities. Her arm stretches towards you, item in hand. “Here’s your stopwatch. Kimizuki says crossing the subway should take around twenty minutes trotting, but for argument's sake, let's set the time to thirty minutes. I know it's a lot, but my team could use it to strategize a more stable attack.”

"Got it." You take the stopwatch and stuff it in a breast pocket. 

Her face is placid, almost encouraging. She appears to believe in your last minute fluke even though it will take her a step away from death's door. 

“I’m sorry, Shinoa," you murmur, voice almost breaking in the process. 

She smacks your shoulder, intending to shake you out of it. “Hey, lighten up. Your plan is great. Plus, we got competent people on our side." She pokes her chest with her thumb and tilts her chin up. "Led by the most gorgeous and wise leader this world has to offer.” 

"Not to mention the smallest," comments an extra voice. 

Yuichiro walks in on you both, chilling with his hands inside the pockets of his army pants. You're the only member whose uniform was completely wrecked in one of your many struggles against death. Mikaela is in casual clothes as well, but his white outfit is intact, put away in the hut back at the village. He probably hates carrying anything that associates him with his race. 

Yuichiro curves another grin and points behind him with his thumb. "Ya ready to go?"

Beside you, Shinoa blushes a bit. She should really be thankful Yuichiro is denser than oil.

You shake the random thoughts off and look back at him. "Mikaela said he'd tie you to a pillar to get you to stay."

"Ah, that sounds a lot like Mika," he chuckles. "But if push comes to shove, you'd get me out, right?" 

Shinoa walks out, probably because she feels misplaced in the conversation. You'll be grouping once more before departure either way.

Back to the boy of black hair. 

"Are you kidding me? I'd rather keep all of my limbs intact, thank you very much."

He looks genuinely confused. One would think he'd be aware of the high pedestal Mikaela has him on. How infuriating. 

“Hah? Don’t be ridiculous," comes his answer. "He’d smack me twice before hurting a hair on your head.” 

You have no idea where that came from, but the information isn’t anything recent to Yuichiro, it seems. Before you can come up with a question, he's already looking past his shoulder. 

"Oh, the guys are rounding up. Let's go."

On your way there, Mikaela trots up to Yuichiro, muttering something or another in furious whispers, just for him to hear, not that you'd bother with prying either way. 

"Yuu–" 

"Not a word, Mika."

They both stop to argue while you continue walking ahead, leaving them behind. Their opinions clashing is nothing new, and Yuichiro always ends up getting the last word in without suffering any repercussions. Mikaela's anger, on top of being weak at heart for his best friend, usually lasts him a maximum of twenty minutes. 

"Alright," you address the group. "You guys ready?" 

Makoto yet again sighs, though he looks far more composed and acceptant of his duty. "As ready as we can be." He peers up to the ceiling. His vocal chords shake with a low rumble of complaint. "I still haven't got the faintest clue on how we'll approach the target, though."

Shinoa's grin displays confidence. "We'll have thirty minutes to cook something up. I'm sure we can do it."

"Maybe try using the field as coverage," you propose. Scavenging inside your mind, you remember some of Guren's teachings on sneak attacks. "Extermination isn’t the main goal either way. Blow up the parking lot to create rubble and dust. It won’t be enough to stop him, but it might give you a spare second or two to attempt another strike.”

Makoto nods. “We'll keep that in mind.”

Meanwhile, the bickering keeps stretching and Mitsuba uses up her last drop of patience tolerating it. “Are you two done fighting over there? We’re waiting on you!”

Mikaela would have probably ignored it altogether if Yuichiro hadn't walked off on his own. Two seconds after, he follows. 

“Okay," states Shinoa, giving the group a once over, then stopping on you. "We set the timer to thirty minutes in three, two, one." 

Both stopwatches are clicked into action with synchronized timing. They're working perfectly fine and already counting down the seconds. 

Shinoa catches the group's attention with the finger she raises, meaning she's about to speak and expects to be thoroughly heard. "So, just to make sure we're on the same page here. We'll take action in exactly thirty minutes. Shinoa squad will keep the vampire noble busy, while [Name] and Yuu rescue Aoi from the back. Yuu, keep an eye out for other vampires. Her focus will be Aoi, so make sure you watch her back."

"Got it."

"Yoichi will be on higher levels doing the same. Once the objective has been achieved, he'll shoot an arrow at the noble and we make a break for it."

"Right!"

She looks at you. "Please, try to keep it under four minutes."

"Understood."

Yuichiro nods. “That’s that on that, then. Let’s go.” He snatches your wrist and drags you out of the building, denying Mikaela the chance of protesting further. 

That doesn't mean you feel his intense gaze on you any less. What's more stressful is that you don't know what to make of it. 

Shinoa's squad steps out right after you, but they go straight ahead while you and Yuichiro head down the stairs and into the subway station. 

It's awfully silent between you two. The most you hear are your own steps and the occasional sigh of boredom from Yuichiro. You hardly have any spare room to feel awkward, though. Your mind is flooded once again with thoughts of Mikaela. 

While you pass through the turnstile in silence, Yuichiro hops over a broken one, once again behaving like a child. You don't even spare him a glance.

“I heard your conversation with Mika by the way." He runs up to you and decelerates to match your pace. If he ever bothered to pay attention to his surroundings, he would have noticed the change in your expression. "Thanks for worrying about me and stuff, but I don’t need protection.”

Ah, so he did see that. How embarrassing. 

“I had to say it or else he wouldn’t have let it go." You shrug, trying your damn hardest to appear unaffected. "Not like it matters. Clearly, he doesn’t trust me.”

You walk side by side past rows of chairs and abandoned rooms. There are entrances leading up to the restrooms and the lost-and-found. There could be interesting things there, but time is limited as it is. Aoi is your only priority. 

“I think he does," comments Yuichiro, as if the topic was anything casual. His eyes don't stray far from the front. "It’s actually thanks to you, I think, that he has regained some faith in the human race.”

Your scoff wears a sarcastic approach. "Your generosity is insulting. I'm sure you heard a lot of the things we said to each other last night. He doesn't trust me. In fact, it seems he was disappointed to realize I'm just like every other human out there."

"There's nothing bad with being human. Mika was born like one, actually."

You kick a flyer out of your way. "Yeah, well. Tell that to him."

“Family fights all of the time. I’m sure he didn’t mean most of what he said. It’s like when he says he wants to wriggle my neck, but never actually does it.”

When you aim your poker-face his way, he's already showing you his goofy smile. “That’s a stupid comparrison," you state without a hint of emotion in your tone, not that it stops him from laughing. 

You step down into one of the tunnels with Yuichiro following a step behind you, then steer north, which trails in the direction of the school. You can only hope the next station won't be too far off from the actual campus. 

With that possible setback in mind, you start trotting, and your companion joins you not a second later, flashlight in hand. You turn yours on as well. 

Your steps and those of Yuichiro bounce against the walls of the tunnel. Looking up, you notice the occasional crack extending down to terrain, but besides that, the construction appears fairly intact. As for the rails, they're hardly visible underneath the weed. The longer blades prickle you through your pants. 

Six minutes in, says the stopwatch. You hope to dear God that Ferid is a patient one. 

What if he already knows you'll be trying something? What if he expects you to? 

There's no point in questioning that now. The plan is already underway. 

You try to busy your mind with anything else, and end up coming back to Yuichiro's first comment. 

I don't need protection, he said. Bullcrap. Not only does stupidity get him into twice as much trouble, he has powers that are sought after for purposes that could fatally harm the world a second time. 

You still think killing him would be the easier way out, but it’s not an option you'd choose if given the chance. Regardless of his many faults, you've come to appreciate all the good he has, which overshadows the bad. 

That's not to say you're already best friends forever. You can admit to liking him when he's not preaching his family crap or doing some Yuichiro-styled lunacy. He has potential as a soldier, has given you a hand on multiple occasions already. His actions usually come from a kind place.

You can understand why his group has come to care deeply about him. 

The reason behind your promise leans more on the selfish side, however. Sure, you don't want Yuichiro to die, but you only went to the extreme of devoting your life for none other than Mikaela. 

“I just want him to be happy," you whisper a tad breathless. You don't know if he heard you, so the next portion of your sentence comes out louder. “...and if keeping you alive is what it’ll take, then you’ll just have to deal with my ass until we’re done, like it or not.”

Yuichiro is caught off guard for a moment, but a grin takes over immediately after. “Thanks. I’m glad he can depend on you. I know you’ve been helping a lot with his thirst. For a moment, I thought he’d stay a lone wolf forever." He looks up to reminisce, smile somehow twice as bright. Such is the kind of effect Mikaela has on Yuichiro. "The Mika from the past used to be much more friendly, but I can’t blame him for having his doubts. I left him for so long with the vampires–oh, wait, now that I think about it, he was still a lone wolf back then, trying to do everything on his own, never letting us in on the burden." He clicks his tongue, though looks far from angry, just acceptant. "That Mika. I guess some things just don’t change."

If by 'friendly Mika', he means that Mikaela used to generally behave the way he now only shows in the face of Yuichiro, boy, you would have loved to meet him then. 

This calmer version of Mikaela still charms you, of course. You just wish he'd let you see, even if just a glimpse, of his brighter character. Not once have you heard his laugh or witnessed a full-on smile. 

It's so hard to stay clear of jealousy. 

"Sorry," says Yuichiro, snapping you out of your thoughts. Your lack of response may have given him the wrong idea. "I think I rambled too much.”

“No," you cut him off instantly. "I actually liked hearing a bit more about him.”

The glimmer comes back to his eyes. Comparing them to emeralds is quite fitting. “Oh, I can tell you tons of stuff! You’ll get a kick out of this one. He had this strange pinocchio-phobia when we were kids.”

Oh, how could you forget about that tiny, yet very important detail. Things have been so tense lately, but that journey you made with Mikaela and Aoi had a lot of memorable moments. 

“He totally still has it," you chuckle, looking down to the floor as you remember. "...couldn't handle the pinocchio doll I shoved to his face."

Yuichiro fires a cackle towards the ceiling. “Oh, man, I would have paid to see that!”

“I should have taken it home. It would have been a fine repellent to keep him off your back."

You both share a laugh. 

"We should definitely go back to grab it after this mission's over. 

His comment pulls your lips back into a straight line. At it again with the gullible positivity. 

“You seem confident we’ll come out of this unscathed.”

“Of course!" he states like it was only the obvious. "They have Mika on their side and he’s crazy strong! Makoto, too. Shinoa and Mitsuba are tough in their own right, and Yoichi will be watching their backs. As for Kimizuki, well…" He rolls his eyes. "I guess he’s alright. We just gotta head inside that school, grab Aoi and it’ll all be done.”

“Ah, fuck." You smack your forehead on an impulse. "Only now am I starting to think that, even if this plan goes smoothly, there's just no way we'll outrun the bloodsucker. Fuck, fuck."

This mission is done for. You're all going to–

“Once we leave Aoi somewhere safe, we’ll head over to help them escape." He sticks out his thumb, doing his best to encourage you. "I believe in this team. Guren put us together for a reason. He has done his best to train us and he gave us powerful cursed gears.”

Right, your mind has been busy enough as it is with the thought of Aoi, Mikaela and this stupid plan of yours, you almost forgot about Guren and the fact you're an awaking monster, according to Karkodan. 

“How can you even say his name while smiling? Guren betrayed us. He traded us over for a dose of demon power. He experimented on you, on Kimizuki’s sister and–” You stop yourself right before 'me' can slip through. You breathe in and retake the sentence from a different direction. “Why do you want to save him? And you better give me a reason other than his crocodile tears.”

“They were real, I promise!”

You scoff. “Spare me the bullcrap.” 

“You really think he’d fake everything he has done for us? Come on! Guren can’t be that good of an actor."

For once, there's truth in that statement. You were keen enough in discovering a few of your birthday gifts before the due date and Guren could never come up with a proper lie to throw you off. 

By the time you come out of that memory, Yuichiro is already well underway into one of his. 

"I remember he used to come over to my room when I was a kid. My nightmares were constant back then, and he'd stay until I fell asleep. Oh! He also got me a birthday cake once. Granted, it was a girl's cake with pink frosting…" 

That's actually amusing.

"But you get the point," he continues. "He didn't have to bother with those things. Guren cares a lot about you, yeah?" 

A question you would wish to have answered. Just as Yuichiro says, he did a lot of things for you, too, but under what motives? Hunters lure baby deers in with a mother's cry. Mouse traps attract rodents with cheese. Guren could have been doing the same. You were kids for God's sake, none of you knew better. 

Bitterness seeps through your teeth as you mutter, "Beats me."

“Come on! He obviously does. He spoke a lot about you, couldn’t go a day without bragging about how well he’d trained you.”

That's recent news to you, but you're already over your one-sided fight for Guren's approval. 

"Whatever you say won't change the fact he has chosen a path that endangers us all."

“Don't you want to ask him why, though?" He keeps his eyes to the front instead of returning the glance you offer his way. "To be honest, I’m really curious about what he’s thinking, and if he has really become our enemy, then at least we’d know why. But, for now, I say nothing is certain.”

He makes a fair point, one you've been refusing to acknowledge for so long. Guren could have the answers. He might know what you are and how it went down. Were you born a monster? Or were you made into one? If so, by who? Is it someone he knows? Did he approve of it? 

Why are you getting new memories shoved into your brain? Are they the real ones? Or a side effect of the experimentation? 

Who are you? 

A gut feeling says you'd be better off not knowing. You just want to be the you of your previous reality. Getting any and all suspicions confirmed would mean that the image you've built for yourself over the years might as well have been a dream. Your world could expand to new territories you don't feel mature enough to cross. 

You want to go back to simpler times. When you were just an irrelevant human fighting vampires, watching the world slowly fall back into chaos from the back row.

A jitter shakes you to the core. Your heart sinks into your stomach. Living feels like such a hassle, such a scary thing. Why are you even here? To be someone else's tool? Is that all there is to it? If your life had more meaning than that, you would have been born in a better time period. 

Fuck, this feeling is awful. It's like a pit I can't climb out of. 

You're completely breathless coming out of the tunnel, though you're not sure if it's the run itself or your developing anxiety. 

With your hand over your heart, you stop against a wall and slide down. Yuichiro is over in the next moment, looking down at you with concern in his eyes. 

The stopwatch marks twenty-four minutes. Six more to go. Enough time to calm yourself. 

“Hey," Yuichiro says all of a sudden. "Can you guess what Mika’s favorite food was?”

One way or another, he caught on. He might not understand your worries in full detail, but it isn't hard to pinpoint Guren as the primary cause. 

You still appreciate the effort. Mikaela is a recurring topic you both seem to naturally bond over. 

“Have never given it any thought.” Your voice is still recovering stability. Having no idea, you say whatever comes to mind. "Instant ramen?”

“Curry.”

“That so? Kinda hard to make nowadays." Too bad. Charming him with curry is out of the question then. "Say..." Red sapphires are beautiful, but you wonder, "How blue were his eyes?”

“Super, duper blue, like…" He stretches out his arms, looking up to the ceiling for emphasis. "Bluer than the sky and ocean combined.”

That sounds nice.

Your arm slips down to rest loosely on your thigh. Your heart beats to a calmer tune. “Did he ever laugh?”

“A whole lot!" He crouches down to address you better. The glee Mikaela sparks in his eyes is unparalleled to any other emotion he owns. "Not gonna lie, it used to annoy me most of the time, but now I wish he did it a bit more."

Oh, so he does stifle a laugh every now and then in front of Yuichiro. That makes you happy. Laughing is good medicine for the soul, and Mikaela happens to be a very broken one. 

“I’m glad he found you again," you're able to say in all truthfulness. "He would have stayed lost without you.”

He scratches the back of his head and chuckles. The action messes up some strands of hair. You're almost tempted to pat them down, but you'll both be getting wild manes once the plan sets into motion, anyway. 

You check the time. “Three minutes to go. Let's get ready.”

Yuichiro helps you back on your feet and you sprint side by side towards the exit, jumping over the turnstiles and going up the stairs. You need to see how far the station is from the school. 

Not even half a mile. Perfect. You'll just wait by the entrance until the stopwatch rings. 

Aoi is only a short distance away. 

I'm coming for you. 

"By the way," grunts Yuichiro. He's stretching his arms over his head and squatting to the floor. His method of preparation, you can only guess. "You and Mika better solve things between each other after this. I don't think I can handle another day of him being all moody."

You busy yourself by inspecting the spikes on your weapon. “You give me too much credit.” 

“Yeah?" He gives you a new kind of grin, one that leans more on the mischievous side. It almost reminds you of Shinoa's, which is rather scary. "I'm sure he wouldn't write the name of just anyone on the sand." He speaks so proudly, one would think he was Mikaela's personal wingman. "Caught him writing yours, you see, and he didn't even realize it until I brought it up."

You're at a loss for words, which only appears to encourage him further. 

"He's also almost always looking your way when you don't notice. Oh…" His expression morphs into one of realization. "But don't tell him I told you. He’d wriggle my neck this time for sure if he found out.” 

Somehow, you manage to keep everything about you deadpan. Nothing but pure acting, though. 

“I did not need to hear this a minute before going into battle.”

He chuckles again. 

You roll your eyes, then shake the thoughts off. "Okay enough about that. Time to concentrate."

"Right."

In thirty seconds, you'll be gambling your life and those of your teammates, and whatever the outcome will be yours to bear. 

Chapter Text

Time is up.

You restart the stopwatch and shove it inside the back pocket of your pants.

Four minutes is the extent of what you'll be working with.

"Let's go," sounds breathless coming from your lips. You are yet to move, but the adrenaline has shot up hand-in-hand with your anxiety. Like a fever, it numbs your body of every sensation but the sickening turmoil in your gut.

Yuichiro tries smacking the tension off you with his hand on your shoulder. "It'll be okay," he reassures, sheer determination transforming his eyes. You’re certain he feels you shaking under his palm.

"Right," you whisper, and sprint off soon after, trusting that Yuichiro will follow closely from behind.

There are construction sites on opposing ends of the street. The buildings don’t have any walls, just steel beams marking the outline. The machinery and materials are still there, and since they occupy the entire block, you’re guessing a mall might have been in the makings before the apocalypse shut everything down.

You almost lose your footing for not looking up front. Your knees buckle as you run, but you fight to keep your legs stretched and your feet on the floor.

Getting closer to campus, you start to question the absence of all and any sound. Did Shinoa's squad even hear the alarm go off? Was there a major setback already?

What if Ferid butchered them the second they stepped on the field?

You feel the blood dropping to your feet, most likely leaving your face with less color on it. There's no warning arrow from Yoichi either, so calling for an emergency retreat on your own would be risky.

You’ll just have to keep pushing forward and trust their abilities. Yuichiro seems to think the default is that they are fine.

You wish you had his mindset, because worrying sick isn't doing any favors to your concentration.

It's still quiet as you come to a stop in front of the metal fence that surrounds the school's backyard. Everything around you looks desolated and peaceful. You can hear the faint whistle of some birds and feel the occasional breeze on your face, which makes you aware of the sweat that's already coming together on your neck.

You test the door with a light push. Right away, the creek it produces makes you retreat your hand on an impulse. It wasn't anything too loud, but considering the very stilled atmosphere, any sound could stick out like a sore thumb.

You whip your head to look behind your shoulder. "Yuu," you whisper, and he immediately catches on.

"Right." He stops beside you and bends forward, hands coming together in a form of leverage for you to step on. He pushes up against the weight of your booted heel and propels you to the edge of the fence.

You scramble one leg at a time to the other side and jump down, crouching as you land to lessen the noise. You look behind you and say, "Don't do anything stupid, I mean it.” Your narrowed eyes tell him to obey, so he delivers a firm nod.

Satisfied, you head off towards the main building.

It's still too quiet. What on earth is happening over there?

The playground is packed with areas of entertainment. A set of swings, slides, a couple of sandboxes, beams, monkeybars. The cruel years have left them colorless and rusty.

You push the back doors at a snail's pace. Fortunately, they don't make nearly as much sound as the fence did, and upon scurrying inside, you stumble into a three-way intersection.

The hallway on your left is packed with lockers. They look rusty and old. Some of them lie flat on the floor. There are also many doors, which you assume to be the classrooms amongst other areas.

A second pathway stretches out before you, containing the main entrance and other rooms.

To your right, you spot the staircase.

Shit. Kimizuki was right. Where do I even begin?

You're tempted to check on your teammates, but the small possibility of tarnishing the mission stops that reckless desire dead in its tracks.

You decide to start off the search on the second floor.

Three minutes in , you note while glancing at the stopwatch. You might have to take up a little extra time, after all. But how much can you afford? Aoi could be anywhere in the building.

You arrive into a single hallway with many doors on both sides and decide to step into every class by order of appearance. You're quick on your feet, but also mindful of keeping your sounds to a minimum.

"Aoi," you whisper in case she happens to be hiding.

No one ever answers back.

The classrooms are packed with desks and chairs, scattered in every direction and coated in sheets of filth. They’re as rusty and old as the lockers outside.

The old pictures and drawings on the bulletin boards catch your eye for a second. How silly of you to get emotional over it, but they serve as a reminder of the life and joy that once filled this place, and of the children who could potentially be dead.

Moving along, you find the computer room, a supply storage, and the teacher's lounge. Every room is empty and you're starting to get desperate.

Thirty seconds remain. You turn off the stopwatch before it blares with its lousy ring.

Damn. How much longer can you be here? Nothing seems to be happening outside. What’s going on? Do you have the all-clear to continue?

You can't keep ignoring the questions. You need answers.

You walk into another room and realize it’s the principal's office. There are a couple of shelves, books scattered on the floor, a couch, some decorations and the main desk with two chairs in front.

You go straight for the window and crouch down just enough to get your eyes into view.

Holy fuck.

The vampire noble is there, posing like a drag queen on six inch heels. Everything about him screams extra. His outfit, the long hair of platinum color, even the obnoxious ribbon holding it together.

He’s in the midst of a conversation with Mikaela, and you note that their behaviors are polar opposites. Ferid seems relaxed and rather welcoming, at least from your perspective, while Mikaela is closed off and serious in nature, more so than his average self.

Even from where you stand, Ferid’s annoying voice makes it through the window. The sound is velvety, spoken in a near seducing manner, and for all the wrong reasons.

What a creep.

They're the only ones standing in the parking lot. The rest of the squad is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps they changed tactics? Mikaela's passive distraction seems to be doing the trick so far. He could even snatch some useful information out of Ferid if performed with caution.

"Sensei!"

You snap your neck around and come into visual contact with widened, green eyes.

At first, you feel ecstatic.

Then, you remember her call wasn't in any way discreet.

You can't afford to check for injuries, can't afford a warm welcome either. You can only confirm that, by the time you look back to the front, both pairs of red eyes have already spotted you, one filled with dread, the other looking far too amused for your liking. Him smiling only makes it worse, because it could mean he expected this to happen.

Fuck. That's your cue to get the hell out.

"Sensei!" She runs out of the bathroom, and you meet her in the middle to snatch her off the floor.

Behind you, the commotion has already begun.

You were, indeed, asking for it.

Your comrades are putting their lives on the line so you can get out. Their retreat depends on how fast you leave the building.

Your limbs have become toothpicks, though. Aoi keeps slipping from your arms like she was made of butter and your legs won't stop buckling. You're breathless, agitated and drunk on the purest form of adrenaline. Your body will surely collapse if you run out of it before the conclusion of this mission.

Having seven lives on your shoulders weighs a fuck ton.

You reach the end of the hall and speed down the stairs, jumping three at a time and toppling out of balance as a result.

Your knees crash on the floor, and the combination of yours and Aoi’s bodyweight proves to be too much for them to bear. It sparks an electric shock of pain that shakes you from head to toe.

Clenching your teeth, you push past it and get back up.

An explosion shakes the floor. In the distance, you hear the battle cries of your friends.

Aoi grips you tighter through it all, her face buried in the crook of your neck. She feels so fragile in your arms, a product of Ferid's assault, no doubt.

Now that you think about it, Aoi wasn’t tied to a chair or locked inside the bathroom. She had free will to roam around the school and attempt to escape.

You debate between two options. Ferid either trusts his senses, or he has more vampires keeping watch from afar.

No time to dwell on the possibility, however. You’ll cross that bridge when you get there.

Storming out through the doors, you notice that Yuichiro has already sprang open the one on the fence so that you may go straight through without slowing down.

"Aoi,” you call. The name wears more breath than voice. "Did you happen to see any other vampires around?"

She shakes her head. For now, that's good news.

"You got her!" exclaims Yuichiro, watching you go past him and joining you on the race.

"Yeah," you answer. "Did you see if Yoichi shot the retreat arrow?"

He hums an excited sound.

With that out of the way, you can pass Aoi on to Yuichiro and leave him the task of hurrying straight for the truck. Meanwhile, you'll join the rest and aid them however possible.

And if he even thinks about complaining over that set-up, you’ll just have to smack some sense back into him. The team had a point, after all. He could transform mid-battle and ruin everything.

"Watch out!" you hear Yuichiro call out. He flings his arm to stop you in your tracks, and you unceremoniously crash into it, heels skating the cement.

A billboard collapses on the street only a short distance away. The ground shakes, rubble flies over your head, and Aoi starts screeching, her arms curling even tighter around you. The mix of everything gives you an instant headache.

Someone's hand clasps on your shoulder, definitely not Yuichiro's, as he's in front of you.

"Where do you think you're going?"

A stranger's voice.

Your breaths get caught up in your throat. You spin around with Yuichiro and scramble away in a hurry.

Ah, shit, so Ferid did bring some company.

The fancy attire can only mean he’s a vampire noble as well. His hair is split in two colors. Soft wine for his bangs, and black from the crown of his head down to the end of his braid.

He doesn’t react to Yuichiro unsheathing his sword. A passive expression looks forever seared on his face. He appears unbothered, and one might even say friendly, but something about him feels terribly wrong. You know a murderer when you see one.

"What the fuck do you want with us?!" You're on your last reserves of composure. The appearance of a second noble doesn't give you any hope to cling from. "Leave us alone!"

"Ferid has the answer to that," he says. Your outburst hasn't affected him in any way, it appears. His composure and demeanor are still intact. "I'm only here to escort you–"

He dodges Yuichiro’s sword in the nick of time. “Oh, what’s this?” A placid smile edges to his lips, but you don’t know what to make of it. He’s really hard to read.

Yuichiro swings another attack and gets him to step further back. "Hurry," he whispers to you, eyes fixed on the vampire. "Get Aoi out of here."

It only takes you a second longer to nod. You don’t want to leave Yuichiro to fend off against a vampire noble on his own, but neither can you be of help with Aoi in your arms.

"Don't do anything stupid until I come back."

He smirks. "Wouldn't dream of it."

It's evident the vampire lets you run off. Aoi isn't the actual target, and he probably knows you'll come back to assist your teammate.

That’s good news for Aoi.

And since he mentioned wanting to take you to Ferid, there’s a high chance he won’t kill Yuichiro from the get-go.

Swords clash behind you, urging you to run faster. Regardless of your enemy’s intentions, Yuichiro could still get seriously hurt, or worse. He could shift into his demon-self.

There’s no telling what's happening on the other side of the school either. The plan has suffered major blows and you'll have to start improvising.

You stop a few feet away from the station’s entrance. Aoi is clinging to your chest like a koala, and you have to forcefully pry her off. “Listen to me, Aoi,” you talk loudly, hoping that she hears you over her endless weeping. You cup her face in both of your hands and make visual contact with her puffy eyes. "Please listen to me carefully. Go straight down those stairs, you see?" You nod off in said direction, and her stare follows. She seems about ready to refute, so you continue. "Listen to me. Go to the station and hide inside one of the restroom stalls. Do not come out of there. Do not make a noise. I don't want you answering to anyone unless it's my voice."

She shakes her head. "I don't want to go," she wails, and pushes forward to hug you.

You return the gesture, but only for a second. You need her to realize how serious you are about your orders. "I have to help my friend. We will come back to get you, I promise. But until then, stay inside the stall, do you understand?"

No answer.

"Aoi, please." You rock her from the shoulders. "Tell me you understand."

"I understand," she mumbles through tears.

"Good. Now, go." You twist her around, giving an encouraging push from behind. "I'll watch you from here. Please, hurry, Aoi."

She does as told and sprints as fast as her legs can carry her, not daring to look back.

You're already off in the opposite direction before she's fully down the stairs. You can't afford to wait another minute. Yuichiro needs you.

You promised Mikaela you would protect him.

The battle, if one could even call it that, is essentially composed of the vampire noble toying with your teammate. You don’t know his rank, but he's definitely one of the tougher ones. If Yuichiro is yet to lose, it's only because the vampire has chosen it that way.

Your help will only give the spider a second leg, but it’s still missing its other six and there isn’t much you can accomplish without them.

Then again, calling it quits isn't an option either.

"Yuu!" Your voice cracks, adrenaline at its peak. You pry Karkodan off your waist and swing to the front. Your fan grows mid-movement, releasing sharp currents of wind.

Yuichiro ducks in time to avoid getting hit.

So does the vampire, unfortunately. But you get him to back away at the very least.

"Good to see you're still alive," you breathe, stopping beside Yuichiro, giant fan on your shoulder.

He directs a quick glance your way and smirks. "Same back at ya. Ready to tear this vampire to shreds?"

"Not sure that's a luxury we can afford, but I'm ready to try."

"That's good enough for me." He bends his knees into what looks like a fighting stance, sword wielded in front of him. "Asuramaru, lend me your strength.”

Demon aura starts oozing through him not a second later. That means his partner has heeded the call.

You eye the vampire once again. He's dusting off his shoulder, as if saying without words that your efforts fell short of everything. A smile is still relaxing on his face, further pissing you off.

"Tell me something," he says from afar. "You knew this was a trap, so why did you come? Why try in a fight you obviously won’t win?"

Your upper lip twitches. Leave it to a vampire to not understand the basics of human decency.

To your left, Yuichiro scoffs, except he's the most serious you've ever seen him. "Because we don't abandon a fellow human, much less one from our family."

The vampire rubs the back of his head and sighs. "I should have seen that one coming. My bad for asking.”

"Enough with the chit-chat," fires back Yuichiro, ever the impatient one. "Let's get on with it. I need to get back to the rest of my family and help them."

"Karkodan," you whisper under your breath. "Haven't heard from you in a while. Are you still with me?"

Yes, he answers. No more, no less.

You kind of sympathize with his predicament. He hasn't been the same since his failed attempt at possessing you. Poor thing. You dare say you might even pity him.

Shut the fuck up, he barks, voice rattling inside your head. I'm fine and I don't need anything from you. Is your annoying ass going to ask for power or what?

There's my cute, little snake bestie. Yes, please.

He only grunts.

You're surprised it wasn't the usual growl, though. Someone appears to be getting soft.

I will kill you, he adds.

Nevertheless, demon aura starts surging through you, enhancing your physical condition.

"Okay," you murmur, then flip your gaze towards Yuichiro. "There aren't many tactics we can practice on our own. A simpler version of 'fire and movement' will have to do for now."

His face doesn't give you anything to go by, thus you curve a brow back at him. Your voice sounds skeptical when saying, "You do know what that means, right?"

Still no answer.

"God! Did Guren teach you anything at all?!"

He stretches the arm that's holding his sword and signals to it with his other hand. "He taught me how to fight."

You click your tongue, exasperated. "I doubt it. For starters, your stance burns my eyes and your swordsmanship is sloppy beyond saving. Have you seen the way you swing? You look like a kid playing with a stick in the backyard."

From the other end of the field, the vampire nods. "I agree. Not killing you has been unnecessarily difficult."

Yuichiro shoves an accusing finger in his direction, a scowl on his face. "Oh, shut up! I doubt you know better!"

"Actually, I do."

"Says who?!"

"An actual swordsman." He smiles, signaling to himself. "Unlike you."

Shades of bright red rise across Yuichiro’s face like a thermometer in boiling water. He stomps the floor with his heel and growls at the sky. “Shut up! This isn’t funny!”

What has this fight turned into?

The vampire sighs. "Just hand yourselves over. Ferid is likely to be done on his side, anyway. We don't plan on killing you."

His offer is rather tempting, because, unlike Yuichiro, you know when to separate realism from positivity, and winning is not in your deck of cards at the moment.

"Like hell we will!" says Yuichiro.

Why even bother with this idiot?

The vampire tilts his head to the side, looking slightly confused. "Huh, it appears you're as stupid as everyone says you are."

You sigh, looking to your side. "Yuu–"

"I'm done talking!" Just as you predicted, he sprints off without another word, growling an exaggerated battle cry.

"God," you draw out, long and slow. There’s no other option now that he has decided to initiate. You take Karkodan off your shoulder and follow after him.

You didn't even discuss a tactic. What a pain. You have no choice but to work around Yuichiro’s movements and come up with something on-the-go.

Long range is what you’re best at, so you’ll cover your partner’s weak points from afar. Should push come to shove, however, you can assist him in close-range combat just as fine. Guren taught you versatility with your weapon, which is something you’re thankful about to this very day.

'Make it yours,' he used to say.

Whatever could have happened when he took Yuichiro under his wing? The boy barely knows his terms and technique. It's appalling. Not to mention worrisome. The weight of this fight might as well rest on your shoulders.

You watch as Yuichiro rattles his sword at his target, skipping from side to side in search of a weak spot. His stamina and power are commendable, that much you'll admit, but the vampire made a valid point. Excluding the heightened senses and physical condition, his skill with the blade is far superior.

You walk around the pair, keeping your eyes sharp. Your foe isn't paying you much regard, though it's safe to assume he'd have no problem blocking whatever attack coming his way, regardless of where he's facing.

Yuichiro leaps back to make safe distance and raises his weapon skyward. "Asuramaru!"

Multiple swords appear around him. They redirect and rocket towards the vampire on Yuichiro's command.

A small window, you realize. Timing the direction of the vampire’s jump just right might give you the chance to catch him mid-air.

You focus your senses, still your movements, and peer with attention. You even will your heart to steady its beats.

The vampire crouches an inch, but you notice he leans most of his weight on his left leg. If he's going to Yuichiro's peripheral, then chances are he will only use enough impulse to hop a little above the flying swords.

Got him.

You send a hurricane of wind towards the targeted spot, just in time to welcome the vampire upon arrival. He's initially caught off guard, but recovers in an instant and dodges again.

He's too fast.

A soft blow of wind hits you from behind. On instinct, you jump away and turn, scream stuck in your throat.

The vampire is right in front of you with a scratch the size of a papercut on his cheek.

"You got more brain than your friend, I'll say that much." His wound has healed by the end of that sentence. "But it's still not nearly enough."

You manage a curt grin."Fucking vampires," you sigh out. What else can you even say? You close your fan and have it shrink to its regular size. In holding it horizontally, arm outstretched, you mark your intent to battle.

"Ah," exhales the vampire, sounding curious even though the expression on his face remains the same. "You know tessenjutsu, then?"

The martial art of the Japanese war fan. This vampire knows his terms well. You started off as a potential swordsman, but then chose Karkodan on a whim and Guren had to commence your training from step zero once again. He wasn’t too pleased about it initially, but you ended up as one of the few soldiers in the military with two martial arts in the bag and that’s definitely a win on your side.

You doubt you can do much to impress a vampire noble, however. Much less on your own.

Shoving those thoughts aside, you ready your fan and run after him.

Much too suddenly, an attack in front of your feet prevents you from carrying out your attempt. Razor-sharp crescents of red color smash into the pavement, digging a small crater between you and your opponent.

You look up, knowing it wasn't him. That blow came from your left.

"What the fuck?" You exchange glances with the vampire for a brief second, then steer towards the direction of the attack.

Ah, shit.

Another vampire, and a noble at that. What kind of circus is this?

Yuichiro stops beside you to join in on the staring, making it a trio of stupefied beings. It doesn't look like good news to the vampire of braided hair, meaning you might as well be utterly fucked, too.

You look at him. "So, um, you wouldn't happen to know him, right?"

"He isn't supposed to be here." He sighs, sheathing his sword away. "Ah well, this plan is done for. Give Ferid my best regards."

Your eyes shoot wide open. "Wait, what?"

To think you were starting to feel safe in his apparent care. The fight wasn't even anything serious given that he was holding back. You had your hopes pinned on the promise that no one would get hurt, but with the apparition of this new vampire, you don't know where your odds stand anymore.

"Fuck," you sneer.

"Crowley Eusford." The newcomer walks forward, stopping a little more than at an arm's reach from the three of you. Neither you or Yuichiro dare to move a muscle. "What is the meaning of this? Why are you so far from Sanguinem and upon orders of who?"

He's as pale as most vampires out there, but unlike Crowley, this one keeps a steady scowl on his face. As for the attire, it differs from the style you generally see vampires wearing. The fabric is blue, and it has golden buttons.

"I have come here representing the progenitor council," he continues.

“Fuck,” you whisper under your breath. It seems you’ve gotten caught in a crossfire.

"They have not heard of your queen in a while and…" His stare lands on you with the speed and precision of a fired arrow. "Are these new toys of yours?"

Crowley rubs the back of his head. He looks composed for the most part, but it appears he's of lesser rank than the other vampire and thus won't dare to defy him.

"You might want to ask Ferid that," he answers.

"Ah, yes. The lunatic." He turns his head, if only slightly. His stare goes past the school. "I'm guessing he's onto some crazy antic once again…with you following as his pet, of course. The council won't be pleased, regardless of whatever it is."

Crowley doesn't look affected.

"I could, however, turn a partially blind eye." He looks at you with a predator’s glint in his red eyes, then edges a finger towards your cheek. "...in exchange for a taste."

The situation only keeps on worsening.

"Drinking directly from humans is forbidden, though," Crowley tries saving it, you can tell. For what reason exactly? You have no idea there.

"As much as it is to take any kind of action without informing the council, yes." He stops to glance at Crowley. "Why don't you tell me what Ferid's up to? Something doesn't smell right. This place is much too remote to hold any business we would otherwise be aware of."

He shrugs. "You could always ask him."

"I think I will." He surprises you with a sudden grip on your neck. Your heart leaps to your throat. You feel it pulsing against the palm of his hand. "After I've had a sip."

Karkodan slips from your fingers in that moment, so you try clawing at his skin instead, but to no avail. He must barely feel a thing.

"Hey!" Yuichiro reacts instantly. He unsheathes his sword and swings at the vampire, but gets caught from his wrist. The exerted pressure makes him drop Asuramaru, too.

In spite of his occupied hands and the struggle both of you present, the vampire is far from bothered. You're mere child's play to him. Not even Crowley has the guts to stand up to him.

You kick him in the stomach. Nothing. You reach out after his face, but can't quite get further than his cape. In a desperate attempt at salvation, you resort to spitting at him.

He only tightens his grip.

You're losing air, and Yuichiro's desperate screams aren't helping you stay calm. They only feed your ever-growing headache.

"You'll learn your place," he says, voice quiet and monotone. "Human trash."

In the speed of a second, however, you're released. You land on your knees and retch, hacking your lungs out. The air stumbles in and out of you in a frenzy.

When you tilt your head up, tears blur your vision, but you still see him. Yuichiro was tossed to the other side of the street like a rag doll.

The vampire attacked something in the distance.

What are the chances of encountering another noble? you dread in silence. Your work is already cut out for you with three of them as it stands.

In between weaker coughs and intakes of air, you look off to the side, eyes widening in an instant.

Oh, how you wish it had been a fourth noble instead.

"Aoi!" Your vocal cords come to life, gruff, but resounding. "Why the fuck are you here?!"

The vampire must have swung his blade upon hearing Aoi’s movements. Fortunately, it looks like he didn’t hit her.

She's hiding behind a square pile of cement bags, which tower a bit above her height. She pokes her head out again, mimicking the look of distress you have in your eyes. "It was too dark down there!" she cries. "I didn't want to go alone!"

You fucked up. You should have known better than to run off without first ensuring she made it fully inside. Hell, you could have afforded to sacrifice an extra minute to leave her at the damned bathroom stall, but you fucked up.

Now, she's exposed and far out of your reach. You doubt your legs can carry you over to her. You barely even feel them. The leftover adrenaline has dried out.

You’re helpless yourself, and what a terrifying thing it is to realize Aoi’s safety no longer depends on you. The small grain of control you had over fate is now gone. Her future became uncertain the moment she came back up those stairs.

You really fucked up.

"More toys, Crowley? Not that I'm a fan of premature blood by any means," says the noble, sounding bored. He then gives Crowley half a glance. "Just what kind of business are you both meddling in?"

A sharp sound pulls every pair of eyes skyward. You come to notice there’s a dent on the steel beams, consequence of the red crescents the vampire fired with his sword.

Slowly, the construction edges out of place.

Your legs shoot up, strength miraculously recovered. "Aoi, run!" you scream out all of the air and voice in your body. The sound is sore, but it resonates throughout the block as if you were speaking behind a megaphone. "Run, now! What are you waiting for?!"

The factual side of your brain tells you it's physically impossible to get to her before the steel beams lose footing, but you'll be damned if you don't try.

Aoi races off, encouraged by the sight of you catapulting at full speed towards her.

Never before have you prayed so devotedly.

Please, please. I'll do anything in exchange for her life!

You get smacked down from behind. Your forehead hits the cement, yet you hardly feel any pain. "Fucking get off me!" you growl, glaring blades and daggers over your shoulder. "I will take your organs out and cook them in a fire if you don't let go!"

With a grip on your nape, the vampire shoves you face-first to the floor. "Silence."

"Sensei!" Aoi screeches her lungs out. The word breaks and quivers, as if her voice couldn't handle the weight.

Legs squashed, arms trapped beneath you in a painful contortion, you can only afford to flick your pupils towards her. "Run," you choke out.

The vampire bites hard on your neck, then clamps a hand over your mouth to stop your screams. You feel violated. There’s no pleasure or comfort. You only know pain and disgust. Your blood leaves you in big chunks, and it’s nothing like what you were used to feeling before.

You wear your heart in your throat. You can only watch and continue praying inside your head.

Someone is screaming, but your ears perceive it as background noise. Yuichiro, perhaps? You can't really tell.

The steel beams fall behind her, raising rubble and dirt. It shakes the ground and leaves an after-ring in your ears. The dust doesn't let you see anything, and those seconds of waiting feel eternal.

You squeeze your fists so hard your nails start prickling the skin.

Then, a sigh of relief as Aoi emerges into view.

"Sensei!" she cries, sick with worry.

I’m okay, you try to tell her with your eyes. It's just a little blood-loss.

You feel so much relief the bite doesn’t even hurt you anymore.

However, in that moment, another sound resonates from above, and steel beams are already falling when you look up. They detached from the arm of a tower crane.

"Sensei!" she calls again, unaware of what's above her.

You witness the collapse through a blurry vision. The produced sound is as loud and piercing as a thunderstorm. More dust and rubble rises. The ground shakes beneath you, then the half-constructed buildings nearby topple over as well, creating double the amount of everything.

The fangs leave your neck, replaced instead with another tight grip around it. He hasn't killed you, but never before have you felt so empty of blood. If you're yet to faint, it's only because you're driven by the need to see Aoi emerge alive.

You peer, feeling like the rest of your body is made out of jelly, even your mouth.

The dust finally clears.

You suck in a breath and choke on it. You hear a scream in the distance, faint against the overbearing ringing in your ears. A chill starts at your chest and spreads down to the last toe and cell in your body, shaking you whole.

As soon as that feeling comes, it's gone. Your flame extinguishes, and your prayers silence.

Her arm lies amidst the rubble, soaking in the blood that got squeezed out of her.

Like a juice pouch in a kid's hand, you think while holding down the urge to barf.

It's the only reminder that she was ever there. The grueling parts hide underneath the pile of steel beams, yet your brain sees it as the most graphic scene you've ever witnessed.

The longer you stare, the less you feel.

You hear faint cries, except they're not yours. You may still be hearing Aoi's voice inside your head.

Kids aren't supposed to die. They're young and innocent, and with so much to live for. Death should have no business getting near them.

The impossible has become possible because your choices led you to this moment.

You've failed. You tried until the last second, using all reserves of power and energy in you, and still failed.

What's left after this?

"He's an experiment!"

The noises come together again, forming coherent words.

"What is this, Crowley?" growls the vampire. "You've been messing with the seraphs behind the council's back?"

Only then you realize there's no one on top of you anymore.

You struggle to stand and end up toppling down. The bruises on your knees make the slight bump feel like you've crash-landed from a two-story building.

Looking up, your eyes widen.

Yuichiro has transformed and is currently wrecking everything around him with mindless attacks.

Aoi's death must have triggered him.

Right, right. What's left after this? you were asking. Well, for one, making sure Yuichiro makes it out of here in one piece, however possible.

Easier said than done, though.

He's currently in an all-out battle of blades with the vampire. They appear to be evenly matched now that he has gotten a new rush of demon power, though you wish he was more conscious about his surroundings. At the pace it’s going, you'll risk meeting Aoi's end if you stay seated in place.

Maybe it's what you deserve?

You shake your head. No, you can't afford to think like that. Yuichiro needs you, and so does the team.

That being said, if only you could feel your legs in the first place.

Your eyes flip towards the guy called Crowley. He has yet to move from the spot where you last engaged. "Can't you do anything to stop him?" you sneer through gritted teeth, unable to ignore your grudges. He's a vampire noble, and he didn't move a muscle to save Aoi. "I thought you wanted Yuichiro alive. He might die if this keeps up."

His face is clear of thoughts and emotions when he looks back at you. "I assist Ferid, but not if it endangers my life. Disobeying the council usually calls for eternal punishment. I'm not risking it."

That does sound awful, but still…

You click your tongue, moving your head away. "Coward."

"Your words will have no effect on me, so don't waste your breath."

From the corner of your sight, you catch moving figures. "Yuu!" comes in unison as they run to the scene.

Mikaela is the fastest amongst them.

You realize you've failed him to his face. Then again, failing has been a constant these days. You're just glad they're okay.

Is that Ferid accompanying them? The blood loss must be making you hallucinate.

Your legs haven't regained any mobility. You'll have to leave the rest to them, shameful as that decision may be.

A second later, they're stopped in their tracks when Yuichiro fires an accidental attack in front of their feet.

Such action triggers a collapse on the other construction site. Steel beams topple over the machinery and piles of other materials. Debris flies all over the place, raising dirt from the ground.

Shinoa's team jumps away in time to avoid the bigger portion of the crumbling, but the new obstacle will make them take longer to arrive. Damn.

Following an ear-splitting cry of pain, you whip your head back to the sky in search of your teammate.

The vampire is pulling his sword out of Yuichiro’s abdomen before you can even react. You watch as the front of his shirt sucks greedily on his blood. It appears the blade went straight through him.

Anyone else would have already died. But this is Yuichiro, who's more demon than human. Maybe he can survive this.

His eyes roll up, then he crashes to the ground, knocked out of consciousness.

He can't be dead. You refuse to believe it, and that alone gives you a reason to continue fighting beyond your limits.

You snatch Karkodan from the floor and struggle to your feet. "Give me power," you say through your teeth.

You're in no condition to fight, he answers back.

"Does it look like I care?" You watch Mikaela emerge from your peripheral, Shinoa and the rest following closely from behind. They look worse for wear, no different from you or Yuichiro. Their own fight must have drained a lot out of them, yet they're still going.

You can't fall behind.

"Come on, Karkodan. Didn't you hear me the first time? Give me your power."

I already did.

"Well, I don't feel a thing!" you growl.

Because your body has reached its limit.

You start running with your wobbly legs to prove him wrong. "Then give me more!"

Your teammates join the fight against the vampire, but they don't last long fending off against his attacks. One at a time, they're defeated and kicked off the field. Most don't even get the first hit in.

Only Mikaela stands. You have to help him.

"Karkodan!"

I've already given you a lot, he grunts. I need your desires if you want even more.

You watch Mikaela's arm get chopped off. The one holding his sword. He's defenseless now, and so is Yuichiro. You're the only one still standing.

The weight of everyone's future once again rests on your shoulders. It’s still overbearing, but your knees don't buckle underneath the pressure anymore.

Have them, Karkodan. All of them. You know I hate Guren. No, I actually despise him. He ruined everything in my life. I wish I could be normal. I wish I hadn't joined the army. I wish I'd have chosen to escape instead of joining this team of idiots. Then, I wouldn't have met Mikaela and fallen for him. I wouldn't have met Aoi, and I wouldn't have to be feeling this way.

You accept that Mikaela was right all along. You're selfish in your own ways, not much different from Guren. Despising him makes you a hypocrite.

I don't want to be strong. For once, I want to be weak. I want to disappear.

The remaining chains unlock, releasing demon aura through your being. A gush of power heightens your senses, your physical state, and blocks out your emotions. You've become one with Karkodan.

Your fan is of regular size as it clashes with the vampire's weapon, holding up against it like yours was a worthy blade.

"You humans are out of your mind," he sneers. "You brought upon us the end of the world and now you intend to do it again? Haven't you learned your lesson? This boy is already forsaken."

You block a swing to your chest and deliver one back. "We're not involved by choice," you say, breathless, and plunge the spikes of your fan at his face, only to have him dodge again. "We're just trying to save our asses here."

He raises the blade over his head, and as it flies down, you smack it off with a strike on his wrist.

The timing was precise, and Karkodan's demon energy made it hard for the vampire to resist the pain. It was a lucky fluke, but you don't waste time feeling surprised. In that same moment, you swing up and puncture his left eye.

A small window is open to go for the head. The battle will be over if you lop it off with Karkodan's curse.

However, you miss your shot as the vampire ducks. He then sneaks his hand in while you're unbalanced and grabs your neck.

The grip is unyielding, and he wastes no time in shoving you over Yuichiro. "Human trash. I will execute you and your seraph friend." His blade is about to cut through the air in your direction, intending to pierce through you both at the same time.

You're out of options. Fueled by Mikaela's distant calls, you stretch out your arms to make as much distance as possible between you and Yuichiro.

You'll be his shield if you have to. It's not over until you've taken your last breath.

You watch the blade come out through your chest, yet, surprisingly, you feel nothing. Your blood starts oozing out of you in concerning quantities. It drips onto Yuichiro's shirt and merges with the red of his own fluids.

The most you feel is dread, because the tip of the blade has impaled him despite your efforts.

Even a normal human could survive the hit. It’s not that big of a deal for someone like him. You're just bothered by the fact your last sacrifice couldn't amount to anything more. You would have been happy sparing him of further injuries.

You think you hear your name in the distance, faint and muffled. Your vision gets blurry and you stop tasting the blood on your lips.

Ironically, the first seeds of pain sprout without mercy, and you start feeling the agony that's expected to come from a sword going through your chest.

You collapse on top of Yuichiro as the blade is drawn out of you, head landing on his chest. There, you can hear his heartbeat. The serenity of its movement is soothing, and you're swarmed with immediate relief.

You've kept your promise, however lame.

A moment later, the vampire's head smashes into the concrete, a little too close to your face for comfort. His eyes are wide, and his mouth agape.

"It seems you were too distracted to pay me any mind," a voice sings to the headless vampire.

He sounds exactly like Ferid.

You thought you'd be angry, but it's like the ability to feel emotions has been sucked out of you. Maybe because death makes everything seem so minuscule.

Your eyes begin to flutter. Sighing feels painful, yet oddly comforting.

If you were to describe your death with a single word, it would be bittersweet.

Your body starts to shut down.

Still, you think before it's officially over. Fuck you, Ferid Bathory.

Chapter Text

You had no expectations. Your death could only go one way or the other, and you told yourself many times throughout your life that you'd worry about crossing that bridge when you got there.

However, pain and tiredness feels much too earthly. One would think those sensations would end at death, but apparently such is not the case. Is this your punishment, perhaps? To suffer eternally? You aren't feeling peace by any means. 

"I could live for thousands of years and still never understand humans."

Not God, or the Devil. You know that voice like you know your favorite hobby, so opening your eyes to the sight of an endless, white void isn't anything surprising, much less new. 

"Oh, hey buddy," you slur, tone of voice hoarse. The words are razor-sharp against the walls of your throat. "I thought I'd already be a goner." 

"You're most definitely close."

You're like a starfish splattered on solid ground, except there's no visible surface underneath you. Only nothingness. This is Karkodan's dimension, no doubt. 

Part of you feels a tad underwhelmed. 

You twist your head to the side, holding in a wince. Your joints could rival the flexibility of a ninety year old man right now. With every passing second and sensation, you're more certain that you've yet to die. 

Your demon snake lies ahead with the unwavering dignity of a King on his throne. He's coiled in on himself, and hissing his forked tongue at you every now and then. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

"Say, Karkodan," you whisper with an air of thoughtfulness. "What will happen to me? Do you know? I've basically made a pact with the devil in exchange for power."

You've asked that, yet you don't seem to care anymore than he does. You're dying. Nothing's stopping that. Getting scared would only be a waste of energy. One can only delay the inevitable and, in your case, it has stretched out long enough already. 

Counting sheep was always a hassle. Your insomnia made the numbers grow to outrageous quantities and you still wouldn't get a wink of sleep. Then, there was also the natural competitor in you trying to surpass a higher number every time. The game doesn't have an end, or at least it didn't in your particular case. You only stopped because it got boring or became too much. 

It's different now that you've chosen to count your breaths. Thousands of them have been taken throughout your life and only these last ones seem to be the most exhilarating. How many are there left? How high or low of a number will you reach? This time around, there's a promised 'means to an end' pushing you to complete the game. 

Every passing second leaves you feeling more empty, but also less heavy, which is how you come to realize that the biggest, most harming weight on your shoulders was ever that of life itself. 

You hum. "This isn't as bad as people make it out to be. I don't think I've ever felt this peaceful."

"You're running away," Karkodan comments like it was only a passing thought. "Of course you would feel uneasy peace."

You can't help but roll your eyes. As always, a royal asshole, even during your last moments. "Oh, I'm so very sorry I'm following nature's good will. Death is inevitable, Karkodan. There's literally nothing I can do about it."

His beady eyes look past you, tempting your stare to follow in the same direction. 

Something akin to a sphere of yellow lights floats in place a distance away from where you lay. The brightness makes you squint your eyes, soon after prompting you to steer your head away. 

"What's that?"

"Your second chance."

You land your eyes on him, brows furrowed. "Huh?" 

"The monster in you seems close to waking." The reminder drives your peace to extinction. Jitters start at your core and travel to the last hair and finger in your body. "My influence must have triggered it. Your fatal wound could be healed should you choose to embrace it."

You gawk at him, mouth stuttering with an influx of questions. Cheat death, is he for real? He's actually suggesting you become a monster? At what cost? And why is he bothering to tell you this? Doesn't he want you dead, too? In the end you settle with, "Didn't you say it could ultimately destroy me?" 

"You're already dying. Compared to that, the risk is irrelevant." He looks at you longer, studying your expression, which you're sure is nothing short of incredulous. "I might be able to help keep it under control."

And you thought you'd seen and heard it all… 

"That's...surprisingly generous, Karkodan." You don't even try to hide the sound of skepticism coming off your words. "But you wouldn't benefit at all from that situation. You can't even possess me."

"And since when do you give a damn about my comfort?" 

You shrug, but even that causes you pain. Your body is running on its last reserves of fuel. "I'm just saying you have no reason to help me." You pause for an extra second, then add, "unless there's a catch you're not telling me about."

"I couldn't care less whether you live or die. I'm just exposing your options in an unbiased manner. What you choose to do is of no concern or relevance to me."

The neutral sound of his voice is somewhat convincing. 

"As tempting as it sounds, Karkodan," you chuckle softly, unabashed about showing sarcasm. "I don't think it'd be a good idea to play God with my own life. Humans have already tried, and look what went down. Death comes with living. It's part of being human."

What's done is done. You've played your part, however poorly, and it's time to pass on the baton to your very capable comrades. Your last drop of contribution will be staying dead so they don't have to deal with another seraph in the makings. 

"This is the right choice," you reassure out loud. 

"But you were never really human, were you now?"

What is the deal with this prick? If he's starting an argument for old time's sake, he'll be disappointed to know you're not in the spirits to follow through. 

Really, why do you have to spend your last moments with him of all beings?

"I am as long as I don't choose whatever that thing is." 

"That thing is already you ," he asserts, sounding absolutely sure of himself. For a second, you even dare to think he sounds a tad angry. "It has always been you."

"It's been dormant. I'm still human."

"You're blind and you don't even realize it." There's no question, he's clearly riled up. It's like he wants a reaction from you and is upset at the lack of result. "You thought I was the one who needed pity? How about redirecting some of that for yourself."

You won't give it to him. Your peace will stay undeterred. You know you're making the right choice, something a demon couldn't hope to understand. 

"I'm not blind to anything, Karkodan. Stop pestering." The words wear a sound of drunken stupor. The tidal waves are still calmly oscillating. 

"You have a habit of escaping when shit gets rough. This is the reason why you refuse to confront Guren, and the reason why you're choosing death in such a pathetic manner." 

"I'm not about to endanger everything I know and care about over some personal vendetta. I always thought the world would be safer without Yuichiro around, and as it turns out, the same has applied to me." You sigh, eyes closing. "Figures," comes out muttered. "but that's what I get for running my mouth without a filter. If my ignorance is the price to pay for everyone else's safety, then so be it."

"Except you don't give a fuck about the world or everyone else." 

Your jaw drops. 

How fucking dare he? Only a few years inside your head and suddenly he thinks he commands the entire rodeo? Demons can't even understand human emotion. 

You were already considering the possibility of talking to that moron Guren. You didn't choose to die on a whim. Yuichiro needed you, and your promise to Mikaela demanded that you act fast. Sure, it stemmed from selfish reasons initially , but it would have been even worse to break a promise. Between you and Yuichiro, Mikaela needs him more. This was your ultimate act of selflessness. 

Besides, who are you to continue living while Aoi stays behind on account of a mistake that you made? Sharing her fate is only fair. 

"You're lying to yourself."

"Karkodan, stop it." Your voice is stern, hanging on its last hinges of serenity. "Why do you keep on pushing? If you don't want me to die, then just swallow your pride and say it."

He huffs. "Don't flatter yourself. Die a stupid death for all I care, but don't go around masking it as the ultimate act of sacrifice to make yourself feel better." 

You flinch. 

"It's fucking annoying the shit out me," he continues barking. "Your reasons are just excuses. You're not dying because you feel like you have to. You've just given up. You're still running away from your problems."

You stutter for words. "I'm not–" 

"Damn right you are. You're running away from Aoi. You want to escape the guilt. Carrying her memory for hell knows how long would be such a hassle, isn't that right? No one wants to live the rest of their life mourning a child." 

That sounds awful. Absolutely disgusting . Yet why does it sound like something you'd be fully capable of thinking?

You give him the reaction you're sure he seeks in the hopes that he’ll shut up. You make a scowl; show him your anger; let the tears build in your eyes, yet it's not enough to make him stop. 

"You don't want to confront Guren, or Mikaela, or the squad. You don't want to be told you're not human even though you already know you're not, and you don't want to deal with the burden of being a monster." He scoffs a half-hearted laugh, one filled with absolute malice. "Gosh, lassie, you have every excuse to die and none of them are a noble cause by any means."

You grit your teeth. The tension spreading through your muscles gives you double the pain. "Okay, fine. I'm running away from my responsibilities. I'm selfish, cowardly and a monster. I'd rather die ignorant and, clearly, I don't care about Aoi enough." You whip your head to show him the tears staining your cheeks. Maybe that'll give him some sense of satisfaction. "Is that what you wanted me to admit? Are you happy now?" 

If he had humanly features, you're sure he would have rolled his eyes. "As I said, do whatever you want. Just stop fooling yourself into thinking you're dying in the name of the world. Your death is nothing special. We both know you could have done better."

The anger sucks itself back in, replaced instead with shock. 

It sounds like even Karkodan has more faith in you than you do yourself. You hadn't considered the possibility of getting a better death than this. Actually, you were perfectly okay with it. 

Was it lame? Going out in a fight against a noble vampire seems like a decent deal. At least you didn't meet your demise falling down the stairs like that drunken soldier once upon a time. 

But running away concluded in Aoi's death. It endangered your comrades and led you to your end as well. There's literally nothing to take away from this mission. Perhaps only a life lesson that won't be of use to you because you're choosing yet again to run away in the face of an opportunity. 

Fuck. Is Karkodan actually right? 

Peering up, you find that he's gone from his spot. You've been left alone to your thoughts. Either that, or he has finally given up on you. 

You feel your soul escaping you, yet why is it that this time around a pang of dread ignites in your chest? You actually wish you had more time to further explore your new thoughts. 

Dealing with the aftermath of the battle, your comrades, Mikaela; crying for Aoi, mourning her, regretting a lot of things; then confronting Guren and what you are; what you could become later on. 

Put under that perspective, you'd much rather meet your end...and maybe that's a good enough reason to keep on living. It means that the issues making you feel this way aren't resolved. You regret a lot of things, and they can't be fixed, but you have a chance to save future you from regretting more. 

That tiny flame of hope becomes the final push driving you to crawl your way over to the floating rays of light. Your bones ache. Your muscles cramp. The wound in your chest rubs painfully against the floor. You can only drag yourself forward with your arms, hurrying on absolute adrenaline. 

You still haven't fully decided if this is what you truly want. All you know is that there won't be time to think it over once you're officially gone. 

"You said you'd help hold it back, right?" you say through gritted teeth, sounding breathless. Your eyes stay focused on your destination. It's what keeps you going despite the pain. "Karkodan?" 

No answer. You'll just have to trust that he will. This was his idea, after all. 

You're at an arm's reach from the blinding sphere, tilting your head away, eyes scrunched shut, you stretch out your arm and wiggle your fingers until you steal a stroke.

It's like you're willingly touching flames. They sting and burn, urging you to retract your hand on an impulse, but the thing won't let go. Instead, it starts sucking you in, ever so slowly eating up your hand and going up your forearm. 

You want to scream. It hurts a fuck ton. And to think getting impaled through the chest was the worst kind of pain you had felt. This tops it. 

You won't be able to take it. 

Just as you start becoming acceptant of the outcome, a pair of little arms wrap around your torso, and a body worthy of their size presses into you from behind. 

Looking over your shoulder, you clash stares with the red eyes of a child who couldn't possibly be older than ten. Those round cheeks are proof of his youth. Bangs of black color fall over a single eye, and the rest of his hair reaches his shoulders.

"Demons aren't supposed to feel emotions, much less desires, and yet...despite not having any memories, I know I've only ever wanted to be acknowledged." The voice embodies his young appearance. He glares at you, except the sight is anything but intimidating. "You chose me, and you trained to wield me properly."

Karkodan?!

His hold tightens and he starts fighting the pull of the sphere. Slowly, it stops sucking you in. "Vampires and cursed weapons alike have learned to fear and respect me since then. We've shown them my worth. Do you understand what I'm saying, idiot? You're not dumb enough that I need to spell it our for you, right?" 

You can't help it. Your mouth is ajar. "Oh my god, you're so cute."

"Go to fucking hell!" 

[…] 

One breath sucks your soul back in and you wake up to the sight of a white ceiling. Your body's desperately trying to refill with air, but every pant resembles a stab on your abdomen. Sweat trickles down your temples as if you had just finished a marathon. Your clothes are damp and stuck to your skin. You feel gross, not to mention absolutely parched. 

You look to the side and spot a nightstand right beside your bed. Without a moment's hesitation, you reach out for the glass of water, or so you initially try. 

Your dominant hand is deadweight on the mattress, wrapped in bandages from the fingertips to the point just before your elbow. You can only hope the damage isn't irreversible, though with how numb it feels, it'd be best that you keep your expectations low. 

It's not even the painless kind of numb. Your muscles are practically dead, but that isn't stopping the sensation of having an entire army of ants marching and biting from the inside of your skin. Maybe you slept on it? 

Your lips and throat are still dry, so you attempt contorting to the best of your current capabilities and extend your able arm towards the glass. 

You barely tap it with your longest finger. The minimal effort you have to put in is enough to make you wince. It's as if gravity was fighting to keep you pressed to the bed. Your body has never been in a worse state. 

Leaning a little further, teeth sunk on your bottom lip, you make one last stretch and tip the glass off the nightstand. 

It crashes on the floor, the sound piercing your ears.

"Fuck…" Only a whisper of a curse, and still it claws the walls of your throat as if you had screamed your lungs out at a concert. 

Three minutes since coming back from the dead and you're off to an underwhelming start already. 

"Guys!" comes from the door by your feet. You needn't even check to know it's Yoichi. "She's awake!"

With both hands on either side of the entrance, the boy looks down the hallway, inviting the rest of the crew in with frantic nods in your direction. 

Shinoa barges past Yoichi, nearly knocking him off balance in her excitement. She splatters her hands beside you at the edge of the bed and leans after your face. "Oh, thank goodness. How are you feeling? Do you recognize us? Can you tell me your name? How old are you?" 

You stutter for words, but even those insignificant sounds make your throat itch in uncomfortable ways. What was the first question again? 

"Don't overwhelm her, Shinoa." In comes Kimizuki, arms folded over his chest. You instantly notice that the left lense of his glasses is cracked through the middle. "She has just woken up."

You struggle to say, "Water." You barely even sound like yourself. 

Yoichi flinches into action. "Right! I'll go get some right now!" He almost rams into Mikaela on his way out. 

Red eyes turn soft upon meeting yours. There's barely any change to his expression, but you know him well enough to catch the tiny differences. His muscles seem to relax. He lets out a quiet breath through his nose and curves his mouth at the tips. You notice he looks tired. 

Suddenly, the damned butterflies start flapping their razor-sharp wings inside your stomach. It's more uncomfortable than flattering, really. You're nervous for many reasons. 

He steps forward and reaches the same spot as Shinoa from the opposing side. "What is the last thing you remember?" Though his tone is clear of any intense emotion, you hear the same relief that's plastered on his current expression. 

"I got pierced through the chest." You instinctively grab your throat. Not only does it hurt, but you also sound like a dying animal. 

Mikaela's nod expresses understanding. "And after that?" 

Well, with the exception of everything that happened inside your head with Karkodan...

"Nothing else." 

Another voice joins in on the exchange. "I don't know how else to say this, but…" Looking up, you find Makoto leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. A bandage circles around his forehead and goes to the back of his head. "To put it bluntly, you should be dead."

Kimizuki clicks his tongue. He's leaning against the wall next to the entrance. "What part of 'don't overwhelm her' did you not get?" 

You wave it off. "It's fine. I already figured as much." As you sit up, Yoichi enters with Mitsuba following from behind. You nod to express your gratitude, then down the liquid in an instant. Despite being at room temperature, it cools and soothes your throat in ways no frozen drink ever has. The relief feels amazing. You can finally breathe normally again. 

And to think poor Mikaela goes through something similar, perhaps even worse, every three to five days.

"Something abnormal happened as you were dying," Makoto continues. "Your skin started to sear. It's like you were burning alive, and then, suddenly, you weren't, and your wounds had healed." The pause he makes builds up tension. Everyone's eyes are settled on him. "Now, it was nothing like Yuichiro, but…it made me think."

"Makoto," says Shinoa with the essence of a warning. "First, she needs rest."

"It's alright, Shinoa." You curve a weak smile, trying your best to portray reassurance. This next bit of your sentence is hard to say, but you realize it's time they know. "I'm not normal you guys, and I haven't been for a while."

"Wha…" Shinoa is flabbergasted. Surely, the entire group is. You only focus on her, though, since she's one of the only ones you've established the base of a relationship with. You feel more safe under the scrutiny of her widened stare.

Makoto's eyes narrow. He finally steps fully into the room. His towering presence makes you feel so small and insignificant. "You have a lot of explaining to do," he mutters. "Preferably now if you're able to."

"I have no clue as to what I am exactly." You look down at your uninjured hand, noticing it's shaking slightly. The steadiness in your voice wavers also. You understand you were in the wrong regarding most things, but opening up about this topic minutes after a near death experience is still nerve wracking. Where to even start? "On the days we got separated, I discovered things about my past I had no idea existed, and my life started spiraling out of control since then."

"What things?" Makoto demands, voice more stern than ever before. He's like a father scolding his daughter for coming home late. 

Your heartbeat speeds up. You try exhaling out the tension through shaky breaths, but to no avail. "Memories, people, places I didn't think I had been to before." 

"And you're telling us you didn't feel anything odd about you? Not once?" More than a question, it's a statement of his skepticism. 

You shake your head in confirmation. "Not from what I remember. The day Karkodan tried possessing me is the first time it got triggered, and we both found out that neither one of us could withstand it. Going by Yuichiro's personal experience, I can only assume Guren has something to do with that as well." You flinch, eyes widening. "Oh God, where's Yuichiro?" 

Kimizuki takes the word. "He's fine. He's been knocked out, just like you."

"Don't steer away from the subject." All pairs of eyes direct their judging stares at Makoto for saying that, but he looks back, undeterred and willing to bring his point across. "She could be part of the reason why we're in this giant mess to begin with. Haven't you all thought about that? We've been risking our lives from day one trying to protect Yuichiro and now it turns out we've had another one here all along. "

Shinoa turns around to fully face him. "Makoto, calm down."

Mikaela also glares in his direction. "This is not her fault." 

Nothing deters Makoto, though. He's really upset. "It was her responsibility to tell us." Brown eyes land their piercing stare on sapphire red. "...as much as it was yours. Personal matters be damned. We all had a right to know. This little show of pretending to be on our side is getting old, vampire. Is there a particular reason why you want to keep the seraphs to yourself?" Makoto's the embodiment of a viper. His words seep venom. 

An old instinct in you suddenly awakens again. "Shut your mouth, Makoto. If you have more to say, say it to my face, not his."

His glare darts back to you with the precision and speed of a fired bullet. You actually have to make an effort in order not to flinch. "Oh, there's a lot I want to say to you," he seethes. 

Yoichi's nervous chuckle passes through the argument. "We really shouldn't fight right now–" 

"Hey, if you want to kick me out, be my guest," you fight back, mustering up a glare you no longer feel confident enough to wear. 

"It would be irresponsible of us to do so. We don't know what you're capable of, or if the enemy wants you in any way." He scoffs a sound akin to disgusted sarcasm. The treatment one would give to a lowly creature. "No. We're stuck with you."

Shinoa tries saving it. "We have not heard the full story yet." Her voice is so light the wind could blow over and easily mute it. 

"If she cared at all about this team, she would have spoken sooner." Makoto rakes his fingers through his scalp. Finally, he loses the last grain of composure. "For fuck's sake! We walked straight into the enemy's trap for her! Have you all forgotten she was well on her way to deserting us before Aoi got captured?" 

The absence of a comment reveals the thoughts of your teammates loud and clear. They agree. The effort never came equally both ways. You weren't trying to like them or be liked. 

Still, it's hard to stay quiet while someone is attacking you, even when that person happens to be correct about his accusations. A sense of dignity urges you to defend yourself. "You guys were dead set on going after Guren! Of course I'd fucking run away!" 

"Had you told us about your condition or your concerns," answers Makoto. His volume of voice has gone back to normal, but that doesn't make the spoken words feel less like daggers. "We would have considered a change of tactics, didn't you think about that? It's called communication ."

Your defiance mellows considerably. The scowl erases from your face after a single blink and you look down. 

You just assumed they wouldn't have given your case a spare thought. Makoto is correct, though. The truth of the matter is that you didn't open your mouth once. Guessing what could or couldn't have been wouldn't be fair to your teammates. You chose not to tell them. That's all there is to it. 

But accepting the blame over everything is tough shit. What about your feelings? You're allowed to go through fears, insecurities, doubts. You're fucking human, for God's sake. 

Or at least you thought you were. 

Tears well up in your eyes. It's embarrassing. You don't want to come off as the presumptuous victim to them. "I was scared. Everything was overwhelming. I didn't know how to react."

"That's why you talk to us," Makoto answers. "It's selfish of you to think we'd understand without knowing anything."

'Selfish' has been a recurring title following your name these days. There's no point in fighting it. You can only own it. Suddenly, everything bad that has happened to you makes sense. Will it please them to know your hand hurts a fuck ton? How much punishment will be enough to make it okay? 

"I…I didn't want any of this…" Your voice could break with the flick of a finger. 

"Yeah, well…" he mutters under his breath. It sounds like he has given up on the conversation. That, or he can't stand watching you wallow in self pity. "neither did we." He steps out of the room without further comment. 

The silence surrounding you could rival being deep underwater. So much pressure is on your shoulders. Your ears ring and you can barely breathe. 

Kimizuki sighs, eyes closing. He looks disappointed as well. "Though I don't agree with the way he handled it, he has a point." Stepping forward, he stops by your head and flicks your forehead. Despite the frown on his face, the action is riddled with bits of affection. "You chose to be with us. Sharing the good moments means you also share the bad. It can't be one or the other. Our lives depend on each other, so trust is indispensable." He's only able to hold eye contact for an extra two seconds before turning around. "It's my turn to keep watch," he murmurs, stating his leave. Mitsuba follows after him with calm steps, though not without turning a glance at you first. 

"Idiot…like it or not, you're already family." Then, she's off as well. You'd like to think she's not as pissed as Makoto. 

The silence prolongs further. It would be easier to handle it if you only knew what was going through their minds. You can't even bring yourself to steal a peek at their faces, opting instead for your limp hands. 

With everyone going onto you upon waking up, there was barely an opportunity to think about how you got here in the first place.

"What happened with Ferid?" Though you look at Shinoa, Mikaela is the one to answer. Just the mention of that name triggers a bad mood in him. 

"I couldn't get anything coherent out of him. He mentioned some crap about becoming friends and making an alliance." Blond hair sways as he shakes his head, nose ever so slightly scrunched in what seems like disgust. "Definitely just bluff."

Shinoa hums thoughtfully. "He did let us go after everything was over, though. Off to deal with vampire politics, or so he said, and that he'd come back to get us afterwards. Obviously, we fled the region before that could happen."

Which brings you to your next question. "Where are we?" 

"The coastside of Japan," she answers. 

Your immediate thought is Aoi, and her caregiver. "That's far from the village. Did you stop by to tell them about…" You can't bring yourself to say her name out loud. It's surprisingly difficult. "about her?" 

She offers you a sullen expression. Her tone softens. "We could not afford to waste a single minute. Going there could have risked their cover. We didn't know if we were being followed."

You nod, dropping your gaze. "I see..." 

Beside you, Yoichi has bent down and is picking up the shards of glass. You notice upon looking at him that the fingers of his left hand are bandaged. It must have been a product of the failed mission. He shouldn't bother with the mess. 

"Please stop," you say in a near whisper. "I'll clean it up later. Don't worry about it."

He merely shakes his head, offering a sweet smile, then continues making quick work of it. 

His bright energy curves your lips up at the ends, except it's not as easy to make it last. The seriousness returns to your face when you move back to Shinoa. "What about Yuichiro?" 

"He's completely healed, just passed out on the bed," she answers. "It's been two days since we arrived here."

Oh, damn. No wonder you were so thirsty. 

"How long until he wakes?" 

Mikaela is the one to answer, "We don't know. He didn't transform into a demon this time around. It was more his seraph side, and we have no recordings of the aftereffects for that transformation."

Oh, you were so shocked at the time you hadn't noticed a difference, but that would explain why he was fighting that noble mid air. His seraph side is the one that grows a pair of black wings. All things considered, it was fortunate that he got knocked out, because past experiences have demonstrated that the angel attacks humans with the purpose of 'purifying the world', whereas in his demon form, he only does as he pleases. His seraph side might be the far stronger of the two. 

Shinoa nods at Mikaela's statement. "We believe he took two of the supplement pills, since it was what triggered a transformation the first time. Did you happen to see?" 

"No, I was in a state of shock when it happened." You clench your able hand. "Aoi died right then."

"He's usually out for an entire week after a seraph transformation," she states, fingers clasped around her chin. "We should expect something similar."

That's not good. Without the proper equipment, he could run out of nutrients and get dehydrated. He better wake up soon. 

Mikaela sighs. "His demon side might be less stable moving onwards."

You know he doesn't mean anything bad or accusing, but you can't help the pang of guilt drawing knots in your chest. "Sorry." You nearly choke on the word. 

Yoichi jumps back to his feet. The smaller shards are tucked inside the bigger pieces. "It's–!" 

"No," you bark. Your current predicament is awful, you won't lie about that, and you wish you could escape it, but absolutely nothing would be learned from this failure if you did. The first step is to own up to everything and acknowledge it. The faster you get that done, the sooner you can start moving on. "I take full responsibility. Makoto was right. I was blind to a lot of things and you guys didn't deserve any of this. I'm sorry."

Shinoa places her hand on your shoulder, reassuring you with a tender smile. "We can talk in better detail later. Forget about Guren and everything else for now. First, we heal and regroup. Then comes everything else."

She does make a good point. You could also use the time to ponder on a lot of things. Coming back from the dead, despite being this so-called 'miracle’, has not exempt you from some trauma and mental scars. 

Oh, and speaking of healing… 

"What's up with my hand?" You try lifting it up again without results. "It's numb and I can't move it at all."

Shinoa proceeds to explain, "The thing that saved you was also burning you alive. All of the wounds have already healed except for that one. The skin there has turned really dark, almost like, well…rotten."

Looking back on it, you remember reaching out after that sphere of light with this same hand. In simple terms, it seems you've broiled it alive. 

"Your body rejects its own power," adds Mikaela, looking thoughtful. "Could it be a curse?"

"A curse, huh?" Bitterness curls up a different kind of smile on your face. "...sounds fitting, actually."

Chapter Text

Swallowing a whimper forms a knot in your throat. The longer you stare, the stronger is your urge to barf. It’s vile, disgusting, abnormal .

What is? Your reflection on the mirror. 

A sword went through you, for fuck's sake. You nearly died, so why is there no trace of that left? Not a speck of blood. No scar, even. It's as if you had dreamt everything. 

You fucking hate it. You hate that the proof of your pain and survival was snatched from you without consent; that there won't be a scar punishing you everyday with the reminder of Aoi's demise. 

The message couldn't be clearer. You're not human. You're someone else's tool. A creature of destruction. A monster. Whatever your purpose, it can only be to further harm the world, and it sucks that you have no say in the matter despite it being your goddamned body. Your life was never yours. You were tricked into thinking it was. 

How cruel it was to be given a lick of humanity, only to be told you will never have more because it isn't your reality. It would have been much easier to cope with it if being a monster was all you had known. 

Curling your fists, you hit the vanity with all your anger. "Motherfucker!" you growl as a shudder agitates you to the core. The ants have become rabid bees. You shake your injured hand off, then let it fall limply beside you. 

Though agonizing, it was the most normal you had been allowed to feel. Weakness is an essential part of being human, and there's no greater proof of that than pain itself. As long as you feel it, you can be led to believe you're still fragile. There's still a delicate girl hiding behind the abomination. 

You want that person, and you'll get her back even if you have to do it by force. 

Your fingers brush lightly over your stomach, feeling the skin, its heat and the leftover grime. There is no body of water nearby, but the team had done their best to clean you up while you were unconscious. 

You drag your hand up the middle of your stomach, then over your breasts, feeling the texture of your sports bra, until finally stopping on the spot above your heart. 

You stare at the mirror through half-lidded eyes, mind filled with the voices of your inner, most darkest demons. They tell you you're right. That what you think of yourself is true. How could it not? You ate the forbidden fruit, and now you're paying for it with your identity. Everything you once were. 

You curl your fingers in and press with your full strength. You sink your nails in deep, feeling the skin rip apart. You leave trails of red after your hand. 

It hurts, but that means there's some humanity left in you. How long until the marks heal, though? There'd be nothing worse than witnessing such abnormality first-hand. 

No. You won't allow it. You'll carve up the wound yourself if you have to. 

And as you dig further into your skin, nails painted with red at the edges, you wonder if Karma has had enough. What more do you need to do for forgiveness?

You wonder if there's even a God to begin with. There might only be Karma as far as you're concerned; one hell of an educator, you'll go as far as admitting. Every single comment came back to bite you in the ass. 

What's that? Yuichiro is dangerous, you say? Dispose of him? Well, honey, you better be ready to take yourself out along with the trash, because you’re dangerous, too.

You chuckle. 

So, you want some acknowledgement? And from Guren of all people. I'll give you enough reason to become the center of attention. Guren will only ever like you if you're of use to him after all. 

Your naivety is past the point of pity. At this stage, it's just funny. Laughter is long overdue. You cling to the edge of the vanity and crouch, cackling your feelings out at the top of your lungs. 

Now you're jealous of Yuichiro? Geez, girl. Fine. Let's make you more like him. Hand over your humanity in exchange. 

God, you're so stupid. You were lucky then and you didn't even know it, too blind in your greed to notice you already had what you needed. 

You chortle like there was no tomorrow, the air barely present in your lungs. The sound isn't one of enjoyment, though. It's the embodiment of absolute madness. You're hysterical. 

You even had Mikaela and that still wasn't enough for your ego. You wanted more than what Yuichiro owned. You wanted attention, touch, the thrill of romance. Hell, you'll even admit to wanting to peck Yuichiro where it fucking hurts, and what better source of weakness than Mikaela, right? 

God, what the fuck is wrong with me? 

Kakordan was right. You were always a monster. Nothing has really changed. 

A monster. An abomination. A freak of nature. 

Laughter turns into sobbing with fluid transition. You no longer know what you're supposed to feel. 

Is it a curse, punishment or atonement? Should you be accepting of your fate? Do you even have the right to be angry? Maybe you should be glad. After all, you would have felt guiltier without any consequence coming your way. 

Someone's hand settles gently on the crown of your head, and it is only then that you become aware of their presence. You don't look up despite not knowing who it is. Your sense of dignity is down in shambles. The head of the Hiragiis could be watching your breakdown and you wouldn't give a damn. 

You reside in place, forehead propped against your one, good arm, which still holds on to the vanity like you were hanging off a cliff. 

Your heart could burst through your chest. You're out of breath. Your tears have dried, but only because the thoughts have finally stopped. You're too worn out to formulate any action in your brain. 

Looking off to the side, you flinch as red sapphire hugs your line of sight with a softness you haven’t seen in so long. 

Mikaela crouches next to you, hand still on your head. Though he's trying to be the pillar of the two, you do notice he's barely holding on himself. He seems exhausted, more so sickly, which is rather strange for a vampire. His skin is paler than usual, if that's even possible, and there's no glint in his eyes. 

You're both a mess. How are you supposed to help each other out? What do you even say? 

"I'm tired."

"I know," he replies.

"Aoi's dead."

The child you both found and cared for. Little did you know, you were beyond lucky at the time. For a brief moment, you could pretend your life was normal and that they were your family. 

Mikaela struggles to find the words for his answer. "She is," he eventually says.

You don't know what you were expecting, but a constant dose of reality seems to be what you need the most as of late. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper, voice cracking mid-sentence. 

"Me, too."

His hand caresses your head on its way down, treating you with a delicacy one would reserve for a new-born. His digits brush over your forehead, your temple, then a cheek, drying a stray tear as he moves to cup the back of your neck. 

You let yourself get pulled in. Gravity ensures your head finds his chest. He's cool to the touch, and there's no heartbeat under your ear, but you cling to him like he was your only source of air; like he'd disappear again if you dared to let go. 

You breathe in his scent. You touch him and nudge against his chest. The contact keeps you pieced together and he probably knows that. You crawl in between his legs, desperate to erase any and all space. Then, you nest into him like a kitten to its mother. 

He's a little too static for comfort, but the fact that he doesn't push you away means enough. 

You linger there for God only knows how long, and it would have probably lasted more if you hadn't heard footsteps approaching from outside. 

Mikaela releases you. Slow and steady, however. He's not desperate to get rid of you, only wary of showing vulnerability in front of anyone else. 

He pulls you up along with him and gives your head a couple of pats. Shinoa emerges right then, saying your name. 

"Is everything alri–?" She stammers to a pause and her hands clasp over her mouth. "O-oh. I'm sorry." 

"I was on my way out," answers Mikaela, but despite what he says, his eyes linger on you for extra seconds, as if he couldn't rip away from your gaze. Something seems to be weighing in his mouth. "I'll see you later," is what he settles on. 

You really don't want him to leave. 

"Okay."

When Mikaela walks out, Shinoa takes her place in front of you and whispers, "I'm honestly so sorry! We heard some noises downstairs and got concerned. Mikaela said he'd go check up on you and bring you over for lunch, but it had been like thirty minutes since then, so I started getting worried." She smacks her forehead, not giving you any room to get a word in. "I should have known better," she whines. 

"It's fine, really." You turn away from the vanity to reach for your shirt on the bed. If Shinoa sees the marks on your chest, she doesn't comment on them. Maybe they've already healed. You don't want to know. "I lost it for a bit, but I'm better now."

Getting dressed is a struggle with only one hand. The non dominant to boot. 

"Are you hungry?" she asks.

"Not really."

"It's been three days, though."

You sigh. "I know. I'll eat."

"Okay." She goes for the door, then pauses and turns back in your direction. "You know you can talk to me whenever, yeah?"

"Yeah."

She's not convinced, and her slow nod reveals it. "Alright."

You walk out into the hallway for the first time. There are three more doors to your left, one of them being at the far end of the corridor, appearing to be the master's bedroom. To your right is another door at the other end. Including the one you just came out of, there are five rooms on this floor. 

As Shinoa goes down the stairs, you tail from behind and end up in the living room, which covers enough space to fit two sets of couches, plus many shelves and coffee tables. 

Shinoa ventures deeper, most likely towards the kitchen, but you stay looking at the open door, which leads outside. 

"You coming?" she asks, turning a glance past her shoulder. 

"Yeah, I just need some fresh air. I'll be back in a minute." 

Truth be told, you aren't ready to face the rest of the team yet. Much less with blood-shot eyes and puffy cheeks. You walk out the door, marvelling at the mix of red, yellow and orange filling up the sky. 

The wind caresses your face as you go down the porch, refreshing your skin from its swelling. You stop beside a tree with your hand perched on the bark and look around.

The van is parked nearby, worn out but otherwise looking functionable. A dirt path is further up ahead, and it would seem you're decently far from the main road. There's nothing around you but plains of earthy ground and weed. The house you're in is the only piece of civilization. 

Hopefully, that means you won't run into trouble. You've had enough of cities and towns. Everytime you were in one, something or someone brought trouble. 

You drop your gaze to your feet, and thus notice a rock the size of a watermelon resting against the trunk. There are engraved words that spell, ‘Aoi. Her smile touched us all.”

Your knees tremble. The tree is the only form of support that keeps them from buckling. It hits you that she couldn't even get a proper burial. A rock in the middle of nowhere is the most respect you can offer her. 

Your nails scratch the trunk, vile sinking in your stomach. 

"I'm sure she's doing okay," you hear someone say behind you. The voice belongs to Yoichi. 

Instead of looking back, you keep your attention on the tombstone. "You did this?" 

He hums in confirmation. "We have to pay our respects however possible. It's not about the quality of the burial. It's the emotions behind it what counts."

It takes you a while to say, "Thank you."

When Yoichi stops by your side, you catch him staring at the scenery from your peripheral. A subtle smile touches his lips. "My sister died at the hands of a vampire because I couldn't do anything to protect her." The revelation makes you look at him, lips wordlessly parted. He doesn't appear to be waiting for a reply, though. "It's not easy, and it only starts hurting a bit less over time. It never completely disappears. But that pain is what eventually pushes you forward."

Right. Almost everyone has already lost someone close. They all have regrets. No one’s exempt from suffering. 

Pushing forward is a matter of individual strength. 

"In time," continues Yoichi. "I realized my resolve wasn't strong enough to keep me going. Not by itself, at least. Then, I met my friends."

You continue staring at him as he turns his face to you. It's like he knew what you were thinking. 

"They keep me from acting out irrationally when it gets too much. They teach and motivate me to be better, stronger. They're also my source of comfort. We're human, after all."

You drop your gaze and murmur, "Not all of us are."

There's an extra second of silence before Yoichi chuckles, pulling your attention back to him, brow perked over your eye. 

"Sorry. I worded that wrong. Of course we're not human. We haven't been since we made pacts with demons, so you're not alone there. What I meant to say is: We're all the same."

"How so?" 

"We're just teens who know nothing about the world trying to survive and keep our family alive. Our pasts are very different, but I think that, in a way, we're the same. We're connected by our individual tragedies."

You get what he's trying to say. ‘ Rely on us. We will understand, and if not, we will do our best to help either way.’

"Huh…" you ponder while looking at the sky. "Who would've guessed you could be this poetical."

"Oh." He laughs his awkwardness out, rubbing the back of his hair. "I'm just saying what I think."

"Well, I think you're very wise, Yoichi." You curve a smile at the edges. It's weak, but also genuine. 

You walk back to the house together and notice on your way there that the place seems small from the front, yet stretches out into the back. Once inside, one can easily tell it's a big house. 

You follow Yoichi to the kitchen, which is past the living room. There are two sinks, a stove that is followed up by a long counter, and many cupboards above. Then, an old microwave. The fridge is in front of the sinks, propped against the wall. There’s a table with two chairs beside it.

It's a massive room. One can even exit to the dining area from another door. Your team really hit the jackpot with this house. 

You hear conversation in the next area, so you follow Yoichi out. 

It's an even bigger room than the kitchen. There's a massive cupboard against the wall holding expensive-looking tableware. Some of them look broken, but enough are intact and can still be of use. 

Your comrades are sitting at a table that's big enough to fit eight people, which happens to be the amount of members in your group. 

Still, more space in the back fits a formal-looking table that was most likely reserved for special occasions. There's another set of stairs leading to the second floor and a grand piano underneath them. 

As opposed to the aesthetics of the place, your teammates eat canned food, looking like they've just arrived from a camping trip. No one has had the opportunity to bathe or change clothes. 

"Care for beans and tuna?" Kimizuki scoops a bit from a pot without waiting for an answer and tosses the unappetizing mixture on a plate. He's wearing his glasses despite the cracked lense. 

You accept the plate when it's handed to you. "Thanks," you murmur, then plop down on an unoccupied seat. Only Mikaela and Yuichiro are missing. You figure they're currently upstairs. "Any news about Yuu?" 

"Other than his condition being stable," answers Shinoa. "No."

Kimizuki clicks his tongue. "That guy has more stubbornness than brain," he grumbles, though you notice that something in his eyes gives away a part of his concern. "He'll pull through."

They all seem to be in normal terms with you, except Makoto, who won't turn a glance your way. 

"I feel so gross," mutters Mitsuba. She swapped her usual hairstyle for a single ponytail, but, even so, her hair looks oily and matted, not much different from yours or anyone in the group. "I doubt I'll get a wink of sleep tonight. This is too much."

Kimizuki huffs. "Hopefully, that'll be over tomorrow." 

You frown. "What do you mean?”

Shinoa answers in his stead, "We will go out to scout the area. With enough luck, we will find a lake or pond around." She pokes the leftover food on her plate, grimacing. "A gas station would do us good as well. We're almost out of the food this house had stored."

"I see," you murmur. "Who's going?" 

"We settled on Kimizuki, Yoichi, Makoto and me. Mitsu is too injured to–" 

"What happened to Mitsuba?" you ask instantly, running over Shinoa's sentence. You notice the sudden attention flusters Mitsuba a bit. She clicks her tongue and looks away. 

"It's nothing. Just a cut on my torso."

Her habit of brushing things off as unimportant only makes you think it might be worse than it sounds. You haven't been able to see any wound or bandages under the loose shirt she's wearing, so you can’t tell for yourself.

"Anyway," she continues, probably to take the attention elsewhere. "Who's keeping watch tonight?" 

"I'll do it," you say, and as it seems that some of them are about to protest, you proceed to add, "It's no big deal. I'm already healed. Besides, you'll already be doing the scouting mission tomorrow. It's only fair I do my part tonight." 

Shinoa ponders on it for a few seconds, but answers, "Okay, if you say so. You and Mikaela will keep watch tonight."

You weren't prepared to hear that, but it makes sense. The rest of them need a good night's sleep if they're to travel the area tomorrow. Mitsuba can only afford to stay on account of her injury and Yuichiro is knocked out. 

It seems like as good a time as any to talk things out, though you had hoped you'd have more time to mentally prepare. 

"Alright."

When night rolls around, you head to the living room and plop down on the couch, raising a bit of dust with the intensity of the action. Scooping up your legs, you take a proper look around. 

There are showcases with little glass decorations of animals and other abstract objects. As with the tableware, some of them lay flat on the surface, others broken in pieces.

A small bar resides in the corner of the room. Its shelves are stocked to the brim with different brands of drinks. For a family living away from civilization, they sure had expensive taste, it seems. 

The floor has become quiet. Everyone has already gone upstairs to hit the sheets and Mikaela is nowhere in sight. Maybe he's giving Yuichiro one last check-up.

"Hey, Karkodan," you whisper. "How are you holding up?" 

Why do you ask? 

"What do you mean 'why do I ask'? You said this power couldn't be controlled by either one of us, so what are we doing right?" 

We were lucky it only partially awakened. Right now, it's half back asleep, enough so that I can keep it stable. Hell only knows what'll happen to you if we let it fly off. I mean, look at your arm. 

You sigh. "Right."

How the hell will you wield me now? My only reason to stick to you has been snatched from me. Just great. 

"Chill out. We still don't know if it's permanent." Really, you're just being overly optimistic. 

Would you toss a fish into a volcano and expect it to swim? he says, sounding sarcastic. 

What a stupid comparison. 

You click your tongue. "Karko–" 

A door opens and closes on the second floor. Light footsteps click against the tiles and, seconds after, Mikaela emerges, steadily going down the stairs with stiff pacing. He's pushing out ragged breaths from his mouth like he had just finished running. 

You stand up. "Mikaela." Your voice is kept to whispers. "What–?" 

He's midway into the stairs when he whips his head in your direction, the move sharp and precise. His pupils are slits on a fully widened stare. 

Then, he jumps over the handrail and lands on solid ground, embodying a panther on the hunt as he speeds after you faster than the eye can see. 

"Oh fuck–!" You try to scurry off, but end up being shoved face-first into the nearest wall. Your hands get pinned on both sides of your head, making the injured one sting under his tight grip. The ants walking there become wasps in a matter of seconds. You try to spring free, but your movements are limited to useless struggling. 

You're uncomfortable, scared and in pain. This is against your will. No consent involved. It reminds you a lot of the time when that vampire noble nearly sucked you dry. 

Aoi died right then because you couldn't move. 

An instinct makes you act. You plunge your elbow backward and hit him square on the jaw. 

Mikaela stumbles back with a hand on the side of his face and you see all of his shock when you turn around. His pupils have gone back to their regular size.

"I…I…" He's at a loss for words. The same as you. Your reaction was too violent and you didn't mean for it to be that way. 

Mikaela clenches his teeth and looks down. The anger and loathing is directed to no one but himself. "Shit, I'm sorry," he mutters. His voice sounds so dry. You can tell it must hurt him to speak. "Thanks for stopping me."

"Mikaela, wait."

"I need some time alone."

You don't stop him when he leaves, because, deep down, you don't feel ready either. The last time you got your blood stolen left a bad taste in your mouth, and there's no telling when your defensive mechanism might kick off. Will your blood even taste the same now that you're something else entirely?

That’s a petty question. 

Can anyone even help him? You and Yuichiro were the only ones who did and the rest of the team is already asleep.

For every step you take forward, some situation happens that makes Mikaela take two steps away, and thus the gap never narrows. 

It seems you'll be keeping watch by yourself tonight. 

You sigh. 

Chapter Text

Against the warning bells in your head, you wander the house in search of Mikaela, opening door after door to the sight of an empty room every time. You know for a fact he didn't go on the scouting mission. If he's not around, does that mean he left on his own? 

You have a bad feeling about this. 

Mistuba is seated at the table when you enter the kitchen. With a grim look on her face, she chews the leftover concoction of tuna and beans Kimizuki put together last night. You haven't had breakfast, but the sight of that unappetizing mixture takes away any intention of eating lunch. 

“Have you seen Mikaela around?” You open one of the top drawers to grab a water bottle. There aren't many left and it seems that you'll have to settle for a small glass in order to preserve resources. You don’t know if the team will come back empty handed. 

“I haven’t," answers Mitsuba with her usual, dull tone, making you think she couldn't care less about Mikaela's whereabouts.

No one in the team does, apparently, and since Yuichiro is still out of commission, you'll have to take on the role of guardian by yourself. 

You grab a glass and wipe it clean of dust with a dish towel. Granted, it’s not the most hygienic choice, but your options are limited without water. "I searched around the entire house and he's nowhere in sight." You pour yourself half a glass and drink the water in one swing. "If he headed out, he should have at least told us. Geez. Now we have to wonder where the hell he could be.”

You feel Mitsuba's stare concentrated on your back while you eye the glass, twisting it in your hand and wishing you would have sipped the liquid slower because the thirst is still very much alive. 

Mistuba appears to be using the silence to organize her thoughts. You have a feeling the clockworks are turning in her head. 

“You seem worried." The comment lacks emotion. She's only pointing out a statement. 

“I just…” You sigh and flip around, leaning against the counter with your arms crossed, eyes looking into her stoic gaze. “When was the last time he had blood? Has anyone been keeping track of that?”

“No." The curtness and simplicity of the answer starts an angry fire in your chest, though you keep it hidden behind a neutral expression. Instead of eating, she pokes the leftover food with her fork, tossing it around the bowl. "To be honest," she continues, "I doubt anyone has thought about it. He would have asked at some point if he needed it, right?”

You sigh. It has only now occured to you that no one really knows Mikaela besides you and Yuichiro. As a matter of fact, claiming that you know enough about him is a bit of a stretch. “That doesn’t sound like something our Mikaela would do," you mumble, eyes set on the floor. 

“I would have never guessed." Her tone remains stoic, almost uninterested. "There isn’t much we know about him.”

“I think you guys could try interacting with him a bit more.” You make sure the indignation you feel inside doesn't come through your voice. You don't sound accusing. Rather, it's more of a friendly suggestion. 

Mitsuba huffs. “The guy is unapproachable. Trust me when I tell you he’s not the same around us as how he’s with you or idiot Yuu.”

You stare at her, long and thoughtful. Not once did you think there'd be a time where you would get put at Yuichiro's level on matters regarding Mikaela. You aren't even sure he sees that much importance when looking at you. 

"If he were to really need blood," you say. "Would you guys be willing to help him?”

Her eyes reflect the cartwheels her thoughts must be doing trying to figure you out. A moment of silence passes before she answers, “I can’t speak for everyone besides myself, but I think most would. The real question is whether he’d accept it or not.”

“He needs convincing, that’s all. It’s not about whose blood he drinks. It’s the act itself. He needs to be constantly reminded that it’s okay. That he isn’t doing anything wrong or hurting us." You tilt your head down, coming to a new realization yourself. "...and maybe he gets that kind of reassurance the most when he’s with Yuu. Maybe he doesn’t want to give any of you more reasons to call him a monster." You run your hand across your scalp and sigh. "I don’t know. It’s a pain. God, I know he’s a pain. But he’s not a monster.”

You're right. He's not. His body can't help but lust for the taste of blood, yet he's always determined about fighting it until his last drop of willpower wears out; until he's dying and barely sane. He isn't human, but he's not like any of those vampires people rightfully call monsters. He's just Mikaela. Passionate and gentle Mikaela. 

“Oh, Lord," mutters Mitsuba, rolling her eyes. "Want me to fetch you a microphone while you're at it?”

You drag the chair that's opposite to hers and plop down. Your calm mien remains passive and untouched. “I’m thinking about what’s best for the team.” 

She shrugs. “...or you just like him too much.”

You prop your cheek on the palm of your hand, humming. “Yeah, maybe it's that.”

The advantage of hitting rock bottom is that hardly anything embarrasses you now. Admitting to innocent crushes and the likes is child's play compared to the hell you’ve crossed in the recent days. 

To Mitsuba, however, it's kind of a bigger deal, it appears. 

“Y-you weren’t supposed to say that so easily, you idiot!” The apples of her cheeks are glowing red. She's wearing the most expression you've seen on her since you woke up from your coma. It's actually very amusing. 

“Why are you getting flustered, Mitsuba?" You crook a lazy smile. "Could it be you like Mikaela, too?”

“Of course not!”

“Kimizuki, then?”

Her jaw flails open and shut while she searches for words. “Get real!” is what she settles on. 

It's not everyday you get to see a lively side of Mitsuba, mostly because you hadn’t exchanged much conversation before today. You're the only ones inhabiting the house and you need to distract your mind. You'll take every piece of scrap she has to offer. 

“I’d say Yoichi, but you two don’t sound like that good of a match." You ponder to the ceiling, tapping your finger against your chin. "How about Yuu?”

The flow of the conversation breaks and silence becomes prevalent. 

You quirk a brow. “Oh?”

“S-shut up! It’s not what you think!” One would believe she'd be about to stab your eye with the fork. 

“I guess you and Shinoa would make a cool pair, too.”

“Are you done playing match-maker?" Her tone becomes blunt once again. Only a trace of breathlessness gives away that it was ever something else. "Relationships are the last nuisance you should be worrying about.”

You shrug. “With all the free time we’ve got, a little imagination doesn’t hurt anybody.”

As you slide down on the chair into a relaxed posture, your thoughts scurry back to Mikaela. Your teammates have not given his bloodlust a spare thought, quite evidently. It's been two days since both you and Yuichiro got knocked out, and it's unlikely he took anything on the days leading up to the encounter with Ferid. The last time you fed him must have been about a week ago. Oh,God. What if…?

“Have you told him?” she asks. Her voice takes you back to reality like a cold bucket of water splashed over you. Your eyes flip towards her, head following the next second. Told him? The question must be on your face because she then adds, "I mean, about how you feel. To him."

“Oh." You adjust on the seat, crossing your arms. "Kind of, yeah.”

"How do you deal with your demon?" 

"We've come…" How to even phrase it? "We've come to a mutual agreement of sorts."

You call slavery an agreement between two parties? he asks, the words ringing in your head. 

Oh, don't be a wuss. You chose this for yourself.  

And just as easily, I can let you die. 

"So," Mistuba adds again, shifting nervously on the chair. It's evident she has more words waiting on her tongue. "W-what did he say? Mikaela, I mean."

Oh, she's actually interested? It's sad you haven't gotten any results worth gushing about. 

A sigh deflates you like a balloon. “Vampires and humans are just too different, I guess.”

Mitsuba rolls her eyes, huffing. "Boys will be boys, even when they're vampires. He likes you, obviously. "

You chuckle. The encouragement is appreciated even if you don't fully believe it yourself. 

“What is the excuse this time?" she asks, fully and outwardly immersed in the conversation. The finger tapping her chin and the eyes watching over you like a hawk give her the air of a psychologist, or better yet: a girl hungry for boy-gossip. 

“Differences in physiology, it seems.”

Her face contorts into a look that screams 'the fuck?' “What does that even mean?”

“It means that vampires can’t paddle up Coochie Creek," an extra voice butts into the conversation. It doesn't need much introduction to know who the person is. You're surprised they have come back already. 

“Shinoa?!" Mistuba nearly flips off the table in surprise. The temperature rises over her face in shades of deep red. "What are you doing here?!”

“I live here, dummy," she replies, placing both of her hands on your shoulders from behind. "You girls were so immersed in your naughty conversation neither of you heard us come in.”

"What…" Mitsuba slams the table with her fist. “You’re the one who made it inappropriate!”

“I was only giving you the correct answer.” She leans down, hovering her head inches above your shoulder, her eyes trained on you. “Was I or was I right?”

You tilt your face the furthest away from her inquisitive eyes. You'd hate to show her how her comment has actually affected you. "Yeah, I guess," you murmur, trying your best to appear unbothered. "But that's clearly not my main point."

Sure , Karkodan has proven that you think a lot about kissing and physical contact when it comes to Mikaela, but if he has yet to torment you with wet dreams, then maybe your consciousness is purer than you give it credit for. 

Somewhere inside your head, Karkodan's laugh echoes off. 

“Oh, sweetie," Shinoa sighs, as if you were none the wiser about adult talk. "Jamming the clam is always the main point.”

Mitsuba winces, looking away in embarrassment. “Stop it, Shinoa.”

“Would you rather I call it Schnoodlypooping?”

“What are you girls talking about?” 

Shinoa turns towards the door, hands clasped behind her in an expression of innocence. “You see, Kimizuki, when mommy and daddy love each other very much–"

“Forget I asked," he sighs, and with a swift u-turn, he's right back out. 

You look behind you to catch Shinoa's stare. “Did you guys find anything?”

She grins. “If by ‘anything’, you mean a pond that isn’t contaminated. We sure did.”

Mitsuba throws her arms over her head in celebratory excitement. “Finally!” 

“It’s a bit far, but totally worth it. There’s some nice shading, too. Oh, and the view is gorgeous.”

You raise a brow. “I can’t see how that’s of any relevance, Shinoa."

“Says who?” Her face acquires that expression she gets whenever she's up to some mischief. “I already packed our bathing suits. 

“Wha…”

“Found them upstairs." Upon seeing the reluctance in both yours and Mitsuba's postures, she smacks her hands on your shoulders again and wiggles you to the sides. Her eyes plead to Mitsuba. "Come on! I ordered the boys to stay here so we can have some time to relax without worrying about any perverts around. Only Yoichi’s allowed to come because he’s a literal saint and also because he can guard the place while us damsels relax without a care in the world. I found shampoo and some old soap bars in one of the bathrooms upstairs. We’re good to go.”

The corner of your lips curves up in amusement. “You really thought this through, huh?”

“I mean, look at us. I say we deserve this.”

“Point taken," you say. "I guess I’m driving, then?”

“If you could be so kind as to take us to our spa session.” With two pats on your shoulder, Shinoa takes her leave, probably off to grab the supplies. 

[...]

"Welcome to paradise, girls!" 

You duck a tree branch and stop beside Shinoa. 

The pond is in the middle of a grassy, open field, hidden beneath the shadows of the trees surrounding it. You can't believe how clean the water looks. Well, as clean as it can possibly be, considering the apocalypse contaminated almost every body of water on earth. This little pond is a miracle. 

"Honestly, not half bad," you hum, pleased with the looks of everything. 

Mitsuba groans her relief out to the sky. "Finally some clean water." 

You still think coming here without the boys is a waste of time and resources. You're surprised Kimizuki even agreed to this. Maybe Shinoa pestered him into surrendering; that or he actually wanted to give the girls a moment to themselves, which you find hard to believe. 

You come to a halt at the edge of the pond and drop the bag. Its heaviness was wearing out your arm. Shinoa really went far and beyond to make this seem like a beach trip. You crouch down to toss the car keys inside, noticing at first glance that there are a variety of containers–body cream and moisturizer–among soap bars and other things. 

She even brought nail polish. What the heck, Shinoa?

You struggle to shrug off your clothes with only one arm. Shinoa helps you with the shirt, and although she doesn't make a big deal out of it, you immediately get stressed. You have your independence for the most part, but that small quantity that got lost has forced some changes on your everyday routine, and it's rather depressing. 

"Yoichi," Shinoa calls behind her, a mischievous smile stretched out on her face. "You better not be acting like a perv behind those bushes." 

"I'm not, I swear!" comes off from a distance. Yoichi stayed behind with the van to keep a watchful eye on the surroundings. 

You adjust the straps of your bathing suit and test out the water with your toes. Summer has raised its temperature. You were hoping for a cold splash, but considering the rare find, you have no room to complain. 

You sit at the edge and slowly sink your legs in, sighing at the feeling. Three days' worth of grime detaches like magic from your skin. The scratches cry with relief, too. You didn't realize how much damage the dirt was making until the wounds started to sting. 

"Want me to scrub your back for you, Mitsu?" you hear Shinoa commenting a few feet behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you see her with the face of a forty year old stalker, wiggling her fingers at the poor blonde. 

"Don't make it sound so weird!" she screeches and swats Shinoa's hand away. 

You block out the bickering to focus on washing yourself. You rub your legs clean, then cup some water in your hands to wash along your arms. 

The water feels strange on your injured hand. It isn't the same sensations your other one gets. The numbness barely allows your sense of touch to register the texture of the water, and the bandages sticking to the skin like glue don't make the job easier. It doesn't hurt, though. If anything, it's sort of relieving. 

You hope Mikaela’s doing okay. Right before leaving, you asked Kimizuki to keep a sharp eye on his return. And if something happened to him? What if chaos breaks out because Mikaela can't contain himself? 

Shinoa calls your name, snapping you out of your worries.

"The purpose of those bathing suits is for you to get into the water, ya know? Surely, it's not that cold." 

"I'm just getting rid of the grime first."

"Let me help you with that."

Before you can turn around and tell her "don't", she has already crossed the distance and is standing directly behind you. 

"Shi–" 

She tosses you into the water. 

It cools both your face and the headache that has been building since yesterday. The relief extends down to your skin and muscles. The feeling is so heavenly it's like you were being purified with holy water. 

But you don't spend longer than a couple of seconds submerged. You propel back up to the surface and grab the first thing at reach, which you knew would be Shinoa's ankle. 

Though you're very much tempted to swing her off her feet, that would be dangerous. Instead, you go further up and snatch a hold of her hand, then, you drag her down with you. 

She only manages half a screech before the water swallows her whole. 

"Yeah, that's what you get," you laugh. 

Shinoa swims back to the surface and wastes no time in exclaiming, "You're about to witness my most secret move no vampire has ever witnessed and lived to tell the tale." She strikes a funny battle pose, as if garnering energy for an attack, and proceeds to swat water at you. "Secret technique: turbo storm of tragedy!" 

Past the splashing sounds, you manage to hear Mitsuba sigh from the safety of the surface. "...children."

You pad a safe distance away from Shinoa and begin splashing back at her. "Ultimate technique of the gods: aquatic judgment."

"Legendary scroll of Zeus," Shinoa fires back. "Roaring waterstorm of damnation." 

"Hidden message of damnation: Almighty waterhell of the prophets." 

"Super Saiya-ji–" 

"Alright!" Mitsuba loses her temper. "I get it. You two have the power of the gods. Now can we please go back to washing like the normal adults we supposedly are?" 

Shinoa sticks her tongue out. "You're no fun, Mitsu."

You chuckle. "Pass us the soap, please?" 

You exchange idle chatter with the girls while you all wash. You scrub your skin spotless, then do your hair as well. 

It's a matted mess of oil, grime and dry ends. You can't believe you've been sleeping in your own filth for two nights straight. Not that you weren't bothered to begin with, but you didn’t think it was that bad. You make a mental note to change the pillow cover as soon as you get back. 

You disentangle some knots and clean as best as you can. "Shinoa, did you bring hair conditioner?" 

“Sure did.”

Once all three of you are washed, you spread out a couple of towels on the grassy field to sit down and apply some long awaited self-care. 

Shinoa releases an open mouthed sigh towards the sky. "Isn't this amazing?" 

"It sure is." You rub moisturizing cream on your arms and legs. "We should hurry, though. I'm sure the boys want to wash as well."

She waves you off. "Oh, chill out. There are still ways to go before sundown. We have more than enough time." 

"But Yoichi–" 

"Yoichi!" Shinoa calls with the palm of her hand beside her mouth, as if it could amplify the sound. "You aren't by any means tired, right?" 

"You girls take your time!" comes from behind the bushes. 

Yoichi, you damned sweetheart. 

Shinoa turns back to you, carrying a smirk. "See?" 

You only roll your eyes. 

"Shinoa abusing her authority is nothing new," mutters Mitsuba, though the venom in her voice is directed at the knots she can't seem to disentangle. 

"You're just jealous you’ve always lived under my shadow," Shinoa taunts with a smirk. Meanwhile, you beckon for the brush, hinting at your willingness to help with Mitsuba's jungle of a hair. 

"Oh, shut up." Mitsuba tries to keep her voice monotone as she hands you the brush. "I didn't see you ever get promoted.”

You scoot behind Mitsuba, silently listening to their bickering. 

"Because I rejected their offers, of course. Nothing's more attractive than a girl who's humble."

"Nothing about your surname says humble–ouch!" She snaps her head around and shoots you a glance. 

"Sorry." You tilt her head back to the front and give it another try. "Oh, right. Shinoa's a Hiragii, right? Don't take this the wrong way, but when I thought about the most powerful clan in Japan, I expected something different."

Mitsuba snorts, but Shinoa doesn't appear to take any offense. If anything, she seems proud of your observation. "That's because I'm not like them, thank you very much. "

"Wait," says the blonde girl, slightly looking at you for a short second. "So you've never seen a Hiragii besides Shinoa?" 

"I've met Shinya, but I hear he isn't related by blood, so I guess not." You get rid of the first knot in Mitsuba's hair and nearly perform a cartwheel right then and there. For a second, you started fearing there might not be a way around it, but you've worked your magic quite well on her head. "Shinoa has been my best reference."

"A poor one at that."

"Haha."

You crook a smile. It's been a while since you last felt so relaxed. "I hear Kureto's a scary one."

Shinoa leans back on her hands and tilts her head to the side. She appears to have finished her skin-care and her full attention is on you. "I'm honestly surprised you haven't met him before. You've never been to the Hiragii headquarters? Not even for a promotion?"

"Guren never upped my rank." You shrug it off as unimportant. Part of you used to be bitter about it, but you no longer care. "He always told me their meetings were a pain in the ass and that it wasn't worth it."

Shinoa appears thoughtful during the five seconds of silence that take place. "Honestly," she picks the conversation back up. "I was surprised to find out in the middle of the war that he had a star student in the shadows. We hadn't heard or seen from you before."

You huff a bitter sound. "Of course he kept me a secret. I was his little project." You don't feel like thinking about it right now. 

The downgrade in your demeanor alerts Shinoa, and she immediately steers away from the subject. 

Half an hour later, you don't know what type of black magic you used that left Mitsuba's hair damn near perfect. You would give yourself a pat on the back, but where's the fun in that? 

You brush your own hair quickly and shove the things back inside the bag, ready to head home. This time around, Shinoa doesn't protest. It's evident you've outstayed your welcome and it's about time the boys get their turn. 

You're reborn women on your way to the house, chattering the afternoon away and glowing with youth. Truth be told, you all needed this. Shinoa was right on the money with this one particular idea, you'll give her that. 

Walking in through the door, you leave the girls and Yoichi in charge of alerting everyone of your arrival. You head straight to your room, feeling that a change of bandages is long overdue. It's still wet from the earlier wash and your skin must have the texture of an old raisin, no doubt. 

You throw the old rags in a bin and open a drawer to pull a new set. On account of all the wounds that have been treated on everyone since the attack on the city, there aren't many bandages left. You will have to stay mindful of how often you swap for new ones. 

The state of the skin disturbs you. With black as pronounced as charcoal, it's like you straight-up shoved your hand into a fire and charred it to the state of a burnt sausage. 

The bandages aren't really necessary. You feel the pain either way, but they at least hide the ugliness of the scar, if one could even call it that. 

You hear loud stomps on the hallway floor, which eventually conclude in a thud against the doorframe. 

Spinning around in that instant, you find Mikaela on the verge of collapsing. 

He's shaking abruptly in spite of the warm weather and can only barely keep his head up, as if it weighed more than he could bear to carry; he can’t get words past the ragged breaths; can’t pry himself off the doorframe either.

"Oh my God." If it wasn't for the shock, your words would have come out louder. Instead, a breathless murmur makes it out as you zip your legs in his direction. "Mikaela." Tenderly cupping his face from the sides, you pull it up to meet his stare, only to encounter two abysses of dim red. You don't see a trace of him left in his eyes. "Holy hell, Mikaela.”

You brush your hand across his hair, desperately searching for any kind of reaction to your touch. The other hand palms his cheek with gentle motions. "Mika," you murmur. 

Is he gone? 

The small opening that forms between his parted lips shows no more than the tip of his fangs. He sucks in a small breath and whispers, "Sorry." The word is more air than voice, and when he tries to speak again, all sound seems to wear out. With a hard swallow that quite clearly causes him pain, he opens his mouth and lets out another, "Sorry."

There's no time to waste. He isn't completely far gone and you can still save him. 

Today’s choice of clothes have no buttons to unfasten, but you aren’t going to waste precious seconds on petty embarrassment. You fling your shirt off without a second thought, revealing the sports bra you’re wearing. "Drink, Mikaela," you say, raising your hands towards his face once again. 

You’re prepared for the worst, yet Mikaela doesn't attack you. He doesn't plunge in or bear his fangs. 

He stops your wrists with a calculated grasp that makes sure no bruises are inflicted on your skin. "I'm sorry," he repeats with a soft sound that could get blown off were you to breathe over it. "...sorry."

You can't be sure whether he's conscious of what he's saying or hallucinating. His eyes are devoid of focus, staring somewhere past your face. 

You're getting desperate. Though his grip is feather-light, you can't escape it with mere tugging. "Okay, alright. I forgive you. Just, please , drink–" 

You suck the remainder of that sentence right back in. 

From the wetness that's gathering in his red voids, a single tear slips out and rolls down his cheek. "I’m tired. I hate this...I hate myself."

The surprise forms a knot in your throat. You’re no stranger to self-loathing, and you knew Mikaela had enough of it to spare way before you did, but you had never seen him collapse before today. Be it the thirst or the overall circumstances, this is the most vulnerable he has ever allowed himself to be in front of you. 

His grip on you starts shaking and you use the opportunity to shove your uninjured wrist into his mouth. Instincts kick in and he bites down in the following second.

You don't even wince, too focused on him to spare any thought on pain. You watch him intently with a soft gaze. There's barely any pupil to his eyes, but you can see traces of him as he begins to blink away the mist clouding his sight. 

More tears slip in the process. They land on your wrist and get mixed with the trails of blood escaping Mikaela’s bite. 

"I don't hate you, Mikaela." With your hand on his nape, you pull him further into the room. He's malleable, the weakest you've ever seen him, and you can only wonder: how long has it been since his last drop of blood? 

You reach out with the tip of your shoe and close the door behind him. You won't lock it in case the situation gets out of hand, but for now, you know he'll appreciate the privacy. 

"I could never hate you," you say, "Never."

The sigh he releases through his nose is long and relieved. He removes his fangs to give the skin a lick. The action is slow and deeply pressed into your wrist, and you’re suddenly aware of how wet and warm his tongue is. Your heart wants to leap out, but you force it to lay still. 

He sucked too little and you won't let it end there. 

Before you can reprimand him, however, Mikaela cuts the intention short by using the wrist he has in his hold to pull you in, making sure the center of your neck lands directly under his fangs. 

This time around, you're much too conscious of the sting that follows the bite. It’s an entirely new area he has chosen to feed off, and even though the pressure blocks your airways; even though it's uncomfortable and hurts way more than on any other spot in your body, you don’t fight it. You throw your head back and let him topple over you. 

He's conscious enough to cup the back of your head as you both land on the bed. He keeps a knee propped on the edge to keep himself from collapsing over you. 

You don’t want that, though. You want him the closest he can possibly be, and the desire is outwardly expressed when you press your palms on his back, shoving him onto you. 

You take the moment of silence to bask in his presence. To feel his weight over you; feel the brush of his breaths and his tears on your throat; feel his chest merging with yours at every intake of air.

God , you missed him. You missed him so much. 

It isn't long before your body reacts to the sting with sudden waves of pleasure. The sensations spread from your neck in different directions, traveling down to focus on a singular point in your navel. 

You try so hard to stay put and your teeth clamping down on your lower lip proves it. 

The fire grows stronger, tempting your hips with tiny, nearly imperceptible movements. It clouds your brain, and you aren't sure if it's the pleasure, the blood loss or a combination of both. Alas, it's enough of a tell-tale sign that it should stop before you both lose your minds. 

"Mikaela," you murmur among weightless pants. Surprisingly, he heeds the call right away and detaches from your throat. 

He hugs your gaze with a look you can't quite decipher. The one thing you're sure of is that it's brimming with many emotions. His pupils have gone back to their regular size. 

You cradle his cheek with your good hand and brush the spot under his eye with your thumb. The tears have long since dried. It's as if they were never there to begin with. 

You sweep your stare over the different aspects of his face: his blond eyelashes, so long and pretty, the red of his eyes, his pale skin and lips; even the fangs poking in between. 

"You're beautiful." You don't know what possesses you to say that, and with as much boldness nonetheless. Maybe a part of you knows he needs to hear it from someone. 

And it's received with all of the bashfulness that should have been going both ways. 

Mikaela blinks his eyes a bit wider, and before any other change can become noticeable, he chooses to hide his face on your chest. The action catches you off guard at first, but it doesn’t take you long to ease into it. Your hand presses on his head, blond locks tangling in between the webs of your fingers as you caress his scalp. You couldn’t care less about the dirt and grime on his head and clothes. It can come off later again.

Bits of blood are still coming out of the two bite marks on your wrist. There's also some residual pain, but it's nothing you can't handle. 

Mikaela presses the side of his face on the spot above your heart and, once again, says a quiet, "Sorry."

"I barely felt a thing."

"No," he responds right away, sharp and cutting. "I meant about last night." There's a short place for silence before he continues, "....and about everything else."

You lay there in silence, pondering to the ceiling for a proper answer. “I missed you,” is what you settle on. Your calm mien doesn't waver even as you admit to it out loud. 

“You’re so crazy." His choice of response is rather unexpected, you'll admit, though he keeps himself comfortable on your chest and you can’t see his expression. "Getting in front of a blade like that? What were you thinking?”

Oh, so he's stepping into that kind of territory. You suppose a conversation is long overdue.

“I was thinking I had to keep my promise.”

"And that is why I wanted Yuu to stay behind.”

"You didn't believe I could protect him." Your voice stays on its same pitch and volume. Nothing tempts it out of its calm neutrality. “Granted, I didn't give you any reason to do so in the first place, but that is why I needed to prove to you that I could do it.”

"I didn't want you to prove anything to me." Sighing, he lifts his head in order to find your stare. "What makes you think I’d want you to lay down your life for him?" he asks, evidently caging his exasperation behind a low sound of voice. "I know how stubborn you are and I didn't want you doing anything stupid at the cost of keeping him safe. That's why I said no. Choosing one or the other is something I can't do."

Your eyes widen. 

So that's what it was. All this time, you thought he was worrying about Yuichiro, but he was also thinking about you.

You would admit your stupidity if he hadn't been so bad at communicating it. Then again, you failed in a great many aspects as well. Directing blind rage at Yuichiro being one of them. The fault goes both ways. 

The way Mikaela says your name catches you by surprise. The sound is sharp and serious. It almost mimics the tone a father would use to scold his daughter for coming home past curfew. 

“You were dead." He makes sure to add emphasis on that last word, as if it was your first time being told and you were refusing to believe it. "I don’t know for how long. It was probably only a few seconds, but they felt like hours to me." His distress is almost palpable. You can tell he has been holding it in and is only now choosing to vent out. It must have been exhausting to him, to say the least. 

He grits his teeth. It looks like a memory is filtering back into his brain. "I couldn’t get close. There was so much blood they thought it was best that I stayed away from you. It was frustrating.”

You take the time to look at him in silence, not particularly in search of anything. You simply bask in the opportunity of being so near him, and of witnessing such a raw and open stare of red color. You've come to notice he's the most beautiful when he allows himself to be vulnerable. 

Your hand reaches after his cheek with a mind of its own. You treat the skin with petal-like touches, showing only the fondness you feel for him in its purest form. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.”

“No." He moves off to lay down beside you, and to keep the eye contact going, you follow by flipping over on your side. "I'm the one who hurt you.”

“It goes both ways. You warned me about a lot of things that I didn’t bother to listen to, and I dragged a lot of people down in the process. Now Aoi’s gone and Ferid might be hot on our tails." 

You swallow, looking down. It only takes that single thought to unleash a chain of reaction. It spreads like a virus and in no time at all, you're babbling through hefty breaths, pulse drilling into the walls of your throat. "Not only that, but the team has taken a bad hit and our relations aren't exactly in the best of states. Who even knows when Yuichiro will wake up again? And under what conditions? It's only a matter of time before he starts getting dehydrated. Then–"

"Hey," he interrupts with a voice that could rival the softness of a mother's tone. "You're human and emotions just come with the package. Sometimes you'll lose control over them. It happens."

It just so happens that Mikaela's comment is the perfect entry to the topic you've been wanting to address the most. "I’m sorry you felt pressured by my behavior. It was never my intention to guilt trip you into accepting my feelings.”

There. You laid it out on the table. The core subject that kicked the snowball down the hill. 

It isn't hard for you to own up to the mistake, but it sure is so goddamned nerve-wracking having to wait and see what he could possibly say. His original reply was already hard to hear and you don't want to imagine what it will feel like now, considering your feelings have not decreased one bit. You dare to even say they may have sky-rocketed through the ceiling. 

"Stop that," he says with the same softness of before, pulling your attention back to him. "I may not know how I'm feeling half of the time, but…I do know I care about you a lot."

You feel like your heart could burst at any moment. The familiar butterflies multiply and swing their razor-sharp wings against the walls of your stomach. God, how do you even stay cool and composed? Your body has gotten so hot you wouldn't be surprised to be told there's smoke coming off of the top of your head. 

"I care about you too, Mikaela." 

The traffic of thoughts gets abruptly halted when Mikaela brushes his fingers across your collarbone. His eyes follow the movement with what looks like silent admiration. His touches skim over the wound his fangs punctured on your neck, then make it over to the other side. 

It's safe to bet he notices the exact moment your throat bobs. The sound you make isn't by any means subtle. "M-mikaela, what–?"

“You must be frustrated with me for being so confusing and indecisive," he starts, tone only partially above a whisper. His eyes have yet to meet your gaze. "I have a lot on my mind that I don't understand. I don't even know how to put them into words, but everything I do is because I want to."

The tickles in your stomach make it harder for you to remain still. You shift in an attempt to accommodate yourself better and end up bumping knees with Mikaela. Only then, you become fully aware of the proximity between you. A slight tilt is all you would need to get you both to bump noses. 

Somehow, even though his fingers are cold, you feel your skin burning beneath his caress. 

Your throat is dry and swallowing doesn't solve it. "Explain it to me." The volume of your voice matches his. "Whatever it is, I'll listen."

You want to understand, or at the very least try, because this–whatever it is you two have going on–feels real, and it feels mutual, but you can tell things aren't as straightforward with Mikaela. 

That's fine. He can't help being a vampire, and it's alright if tonight doesn't amount to anything. You just want to listen and understand. 

Mikaela sets his jaw. The muscles surrounding it stiffen with tension. “What I’m about to say makes me sick to my stomach, but…" He stalls in silence for a bit. Meanwhile, you wait patiently, reassuring him with tender strokes on his hand, which he keeps on your collarbone. "I don’t think you understand how crazy addicted I’ve become to your blood."

Your eyes blink a tad wide. Not that you're upset or disgusted–something that Mikaela appears to have feared. The revelation surprises you. 

"And sometimes I fear that I…” He takes his stare elsewhere, but flips it back to you in the next second. He's getting nervous. “Well…that the way I feel…”

“Is influenced by your bloodlust?”

Now that the words have been given a voice, Mikaela looks horrified. Perhaps it sounded better in his head than it did out loud. “I don’t see you as food or an object," he rushes in to say, dropping his hand from its previous resting place. Tension furrows his thin line of brows, giving him a worried frown. "I really don't, I promise. Using you is the last thing I'd ever want, but I can't control myself most of the time and it scares me. When the thirst becomes too much, I stop seeing you for who you are and I only see you for your blood."

“It’s an instinct you can’t help," you try to soothe him without much success. 

“It’s sickening." He's aiming the venom in his words to only himself. His red stare continues to switch between your face and some random spot in the room, too ashamed to keep the eye contact going for long. "Someone you trust should never have to look at you in such a way. Not even for a moment. I really hate it. I hate that I’m obsessed with the way your blood tastes. I shouldn’t enjoy it so much, but I do.”

If he's trying to scare you off, it's not bearing him any fruit. He sees all the bad aspects of this situation, but you're able to take notice of the good ones as well, like the fact he trusts you enough for this, or that it’s what has allowed you both to get close.

"I enjoy it, too."

Mikaela shakes his head. “You only feel that way because it’s part of the process.”

“That’s not true," you refute instantly, calm, yet sure of what you're saying. "I couldn't compare it before since you were the only one I had ever given my blood to, but one of the nobles attacked me and it wasn't the same thing. I hated every second of it.” You move your hand to cup his cheek, giving him the incentive to look at you again. His stare is transparent and he shows no intention of hiding it from you. "I feel safe when I'm with you, Mikaela. I get warm and excited at the thought of you being so close and I love that I can help you feel better. Not once have I regretted giving you my blood. Not the first time, not in the sewers, and not right now. I do it happily because it’s you.”

He blinks once, twice, then his face gains a new expression that he's all too eager to hide behind his hand. “You’re too much," he murmurs, glancing away yet again. 

“Wait." You try to pry him off his coverage without any results. Did your eyes deceive you? You really want to see it again. "Are you blushing?" 

It's not fair you only got a peek. 

“You don’t have to say that so loud," he replies, as deadpan as ever. 

“I’m just surprised," you chuckle, feeling your own face warm up. "I didn’t think vampires could.”

“You’re always making me react in unexpected ways. Too many things about you drive me crazy.”

The laughter subsides as you suck in a breath. You work your hardest to form words in your head, letting the silence stretch out. “Things?" you whisper, voice shaking. "Like what?”

A pause takes place as Mikaela drops his hand to look at you. 

"Your scent," he admits. "I can never get enough of it. There are two places in particular where it’s the strongest."

He has you trapped in his warm gaze and you're certain he can hear your heart slamming into your ribcage. Never before have you felt so bare, and never before have you felt so comfortable being this bare in front of someone. 

Mikaela skims his nimble fingers across your throat, tickling you with his gentle touch. Goosebumps trail after his digits, and when he stops above your pulse point, you swear you feel it rocketing after his hand. "Your neck is one of those places," he says. 

A drunken kind of longing hides in his lidded eyes, similar to the one you see when he's lusting for blood, except this time around, you know for a fact he's only thinking of you. The awareness he tends to lack when he's thirsty is now fully present. 

You're feeling adventurous enough to ask, "And the other?" 

“Your lips," he responds on command, eyes stopping at your mouth. Though his voice is blunt, there's no denying he's completely open and unabashed about the way he feels. His hand moves to hover inches over your mouth. "Your scent rubs off on me. I love that. The last time we kissed, I didn't stop tasting you for days."

You've only barely registered his words when he's already leaning closer, eyes devotely trained on yours. You swallow to keep your heart from fleeing through your mouth. A part of you still fears you may be misunderstanding his intentions, yet he couldn't have been more clear about his thoughts and desires. 

There's ample intensity and longing in the look you both share, and it's so addicting neither of you dare to break it even as your noses come together. Your own breaths bounce against his lips back to you. His hand molds into the shape of your nape, eyes fluttering close as he guides your mouth to his. 

You suck in a breath and tense upon contact, but then you feel the cold softness of his lips; his lashes on your face, the mild tremble of his hand, and you melt on the spot. You scoot to press a proper kiss on him, grasping his waist in a wordless plea for him to come even closer. 

He abides, yet the act of moving seems to knock the air out of him. A little gasp escapes him when your chest touches his, squeezing arms, legs and hips together. 

He's as cold as ever, but the way he makes you feel brings the heat out of you in waves. The kiss is feather-light, almost completely immobile. His caress is so, so gentle. You're like a flower in his care, and you feel safe. 

Mikaela's posture is a tad stiff and awkward, but he doesn't seem to want to move away either. When you flutter open your eyes, you come into visual contact with a reflection of your drunken stupor in red color. 

From up close, you can tell you're all he's thinking about. 

You don't know what's going to happen moving onwards, but, frankly, you don’t care. 

Finally, the present feels like a happy place and you want to wallow in it.

“Can you stay here tonight?” you whisper, lips brushing his. 

He responds with another kiss. 

Chapter Text

Having everyone's focus directed on the suddenness of your bright spirit is bound to put a dent on anyone's mood, but you're feeling particularly lenient today. Yesterday's talk with Mikaela lifted so much weight off your shoulders you doubt there's any type of pestering that could tick you off. 

What you’re feeling can only be described as joy. It powers you with the energy to do even the most annoying of tasks, and such includes the hassle of cooking with the substandard aid of a single hand. If you were a princess, the animals would have already perched on the kitchen window to hear your merry hums as you work on today's meals. 

You are the only source of sound for quite some time until steps going down the staircase join the action, and soon enough, an all too familiar voice as well. 

“You shouldn’t be getting up, Yuu." 

Wait. Did you hear that right?

Before your thoughts can click into place, hurried pacing skates to a halt at the entrance. “I’m so sorry,” stumbles on heavy pants.

You spin around and your eyes open wide. “Wha–Yuu? You’re awake.” Relief touches your voice. It transforms your posture and brightens it with a smile. "I'm so glad."

“I’m sorry," he hurries to say again. 

“What are you talking about?” You tilt your head to the side, an eyebrow perked at him. 

“Aoi," he breathes, and your shoulders slump with the weight of her memory. "I–I broke my promise to you. I’m sorry.”

That he did. He promised you something that was out of his control. Nothing would have changed the outcome. You were both too blind to realize it. Aoi’s death came like a punch to the face later on, but you wouldn’t have reached the endgame without Yuichiro’s reassurance along the way.

He slants ninety degrees forward, arms stiff at his sides. “I’m so sorry.”

You wave off the gesture with gentle motions. “Hey, stop that. It’s not your fault.”

“I wasn’t strong enough. I failed you. I failed everyone."

"That's not–" 

"If only I'd been useful."

There’s only so much self-pity you can tolerate and Yuichiro has gone way past the limit. You pull him up from the collar of his shirt and meet his eyes with yours. “Cut the crap already. We all weren’t strong enough. We all could have done better.” 

“Ferid is the only one who’s to blame.” Mikaela enters the room, alternating sapphire eyes between you and Yuichiro. 

The bed was empty when you woke up. This is your first time seeing him today and you weren't expecting to feel your heart skip a beat at the sight of his blond hair, red eyes and perfect face. 

He’s doing something to you. 

Yuichiro slams his fist into his open palm. Through gritted teeth, he utters, “I’ll get that vampire if it’s the last thing I do.”

Mikaela sighs. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“I’m not! I’m totally serious!”

“Five of us couldn’t inflict a scratch on him," Mikaela says, deadpan and with both hands on his waist. "What makes you think you can do better?”

“Easy. I’ll train five–no, ten hours a day! I’ll do a thousand push ups and by the end of the week I’ll kick Frederick’s–”

“Ferid," you exhale, the name heavy on your tongue. 

“Ferid’s ass!” Yuichiro remains unfazed despite the judgemental stares surrounding him. 

Mikaela shakes his head. “This is a whole new level of stupidity.”

“I’ll do it, I swear! Just you wait, Mika. I’m going to train right now!”

You're done with the pointless back and forth. Mikaela calls him out on his bullshit every time, sure, but he's far more bark than he is bite and it never gets the job done. 

You push Yuichiro to the nearest chair and force him down in front of a breakfast bowl, hands clamped tight on his shoulders to keep him there. “Just sit down and eat your baby food.”

Velvet laughter follows Shinoa into the room. “I can see Yuu’s as lively as ever.”

You resist the urge of rolling your eyes, already at your limit in terms of tolerance. “Someone put him back to sleep,” you murmur to yourself, not caring whether Yuichiro hears or not. There's hardly anything that could rub him the wrong way. 

The bowl you put time into preparing is completely forgotten as Yuichiro whips his head around. “Where’s everybody else? Please tell me they’re okay.”

Shinoa's lips tug up into a smile that communicates reassurance. Her arms remain folded behind her. "We’re all here. Kimizuki and Makoto are fixing the generator as we speak.”

The power goes up in the house right at that moment. 

“Holy shit," you murmur with your eyes on the ceiling, looking at the light bulb that has lit up. "And about time, too.” 

“What happened to me?” Yuichiro presses on. “Did I transform again?”

Shinoa nods. “Into your seraph form. That’s an outcome none of us were expecting.”

You shouldn't have expected a reaction from Yuichiro. His face remains calm even though Shinoa’s response hinted at a wide variety of possible issues, one of them being that he could go completely berserk and destroy a third of the world again. Instead, he scratches his unruly hair and stretches his spine.

Mikaela steps forward, showing concern on his face. “How are you feeling?”

He looks perfectly fine to you. 

“I’m doing alright,” he says through a yawn. “Is there water around?”

You walk to the counter and uncap the water bottle you used before, still half full. As you pour the liquid in a glass, Shinoa takes the word again. 

“Now that we’re all together and alive, we can discuss our next course of action.”

Mikaela ignores her, eyes trained devotely on his long-time friend. “Yuu, you should rest some more.”

“Hah? No way,” sounds like a child’s complaint on Yuichiro’s mouth. “I’ve slept enough. Right now, I need to get stronger with Asuramaru.”

The vampire sighs, not even surprised about the latter’s reply. “Do you ever stop?” 

“Never.” Stubborness is all Mikaela gets. Yuichiro stands up, ready to depart to who even knows where. 

After placing the glass of water on the table, you scoot behind Yuichiro and force him back on the seat. “Just shut up and eat your food, for fuck’s sake.” 

Red irises linger on Yuichiro. “And stay hydrated.”

“Geez, okay, moms. ”

Right then, Kimizuki steps into the room, arms crossed over his chest. “Oh, no. Seems like the idiot has finally woken up.” The words are monotone, displaying little emotion. His slips are frozen in a straight line, but you notice a tiny glint in his eyes that no level of acting could hope to hide. “Should have done us a favor and stayed passed out.”

Chuckling, Shinoa slants her elbow over his shoulder–or tries to. The contrast between heights is stark. She has to tilt her arm past her head in order to reach him.  “Aw, don’t act like you weren’t worrying yourself sick over him. You stayed many nights watching over him.”

“I bet you were about to cry, too,” Yuichiro coos, carrying a smirk on his lips.

Kimizuki clicks his tongue and shrugs Shinoa off. “We had to take turns watching over your sorry ass, that’s why.”

It isn’t long before Yoichi comes in. “Yuu, you’re back! I’m so glad!”

“About time, idiot,” Mistuba grumbles, following after the boy. She takes a spot beside Shinoa, who then starts looking around for the last member who's still missing. 

“And Makoto?”

Yoichi stops beside Kimizuki and answers, “He’s wrapping things up in the basement.”

The kitchen appears much smaller with so many bodies stacked together. You wiggle out of the masses piling together around Yuichiro and head to an unoccupied space. The wood of the door to the pantry is cold on your back. You cross your arms and witness the scene unfold from the sidelines. 

Yuichiro finally gives a glance to the plate of food in front of him, though his expression is far from grateful. “What is this?” 

“Energy bar and beans,” says Kimizuki, already sounding defensive. “Got a problem with that?”

Yesterday’s pond was a lucky find. Sadly, the same cannot be said about the hunt for rations. You only had those two ingredientes on Yuichiro’s bowl to work with. 

“Come on, you guys,” he whines with his chin tilted to the ceiling. “I’ve been asleep for three days. I need my protein ASAP.”

Kimizuki huffs, evidently unimpressed. “It’s a protein bar, dumbass.”

“I meant as in meat!”

“Well, that’s all we could get. If you’ve got a problem with that, then starve.” 

“Your temper’s worse than usual, four eyes.” Yuichiro stops to make space for a grin of mischievous nature. “Oh, I’m sorry. I mean three eyes.”

Shinoa huffs out a laugh, hiding her open mouth behind the palm of her hand. “Kimizuki’s just upset you didn’t wake up sooner. I’m sure he missed you the most out of everyone.”

“As if.”

You’re about to add to the conversation with a comment of your own when an invisible weight stops the attempt. You look off to the side, stumbling across Mikaela’s red stare as he stands by the entrance to the right. Somehow, it’s like he’s touching you from afar, stripping you off your many barriers with one sweep. You wouldn’t mind feeling this bare if it wasn’t for the many other faces in the room. 

Tilting your head away is an instinct you act upon on a whim. “So what’s the next step?” you blurt out, voice slightly unstable. A brief cough follows to mask the lack of stability, though it appears that no one catches the slight bump. 

Shinoa hums. Her fingers on her chin indicate she’s thinking things through. “Let’s wait a couple more days for Yuu to settle down. We still have to see if the transformation has affected his demon side in any way.” 

Yuichiro ruffles his own hair, knocking dirt particles off his scalp and into the floor. “Is there a place where I can wash? You guys look way better than I do.”

“Should have woken up earlier, idiot,” Kimizuki replies. “The pond is far and we just came back from a two hour trip to the nearest gas station.”

Yuichiro groans a childish complaint to the ceiling. “Ah, man, you’re telling me I’ll have to wait ‘till the next time we go there?”

Kimizuki has a point. Comfort isn’t a main priority and, regrettably so, the same applies to hygiene. You can’t afford to drive back and forth as you please. The sector hasn't been scouted in its entirety and none of you are fully aware of the dangers that could be lurking around.

You sympathize with Yuichiro’s predicament, though. Right now, the poor thing is a mess of dried blood and grime. A couple of damp towels won’t do much to fix the problem. 

“I can take you later,” you say, surprised about your own generosity. “It’s not a problem.”

Shinoa’s lips part into a grin. “You perv.”

Your eyes roll up. You wouldn’t be surprised if they got stuck in the back of your skull. “Obviously, I’ll stay in the van.”

“In any case, you should bring an extra member to ensure–”

Mikaela steps in. “I’ll go.” Brief and straight to the point, he leaves no room for objection. You try not to get too affected by his enthusiasm. Mikaela fretting over careless Yuichiro is nothing new. 

Shinoa hums. “Sounds like a solid group. Alright, then. Be careful out there." She looks around, spotting Kimizuki on his way out. “And where are you heading off to?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he grumbles. “I’m going to take a nap. Makoto has the keys in case you’re wondering.” Without glancing back, he turns a corner and disappears from sight. 

“Yeah, no arguing there. You, too, Yoichi. You guys deserve your rest.” Amber eyes trail after Yoichi as he leaves behind his friend. She then takes her stare back to you. “When will you three head out?”

“As soon as he’s done with his meal.” And in case he needs a stronger incentive, you force him onto the bowl with the push of a commanding glare. Yuichiro abides without protest and begins chowing down, making a mess around him. On the other end of the table, Mikaela sighs quietly. 

Because you turn away just in time, no one catches the smile that crawls its way to your lips. 

Past the dining room, there’s a door beside the stairs leading to a narrow hallway on the side of the house. From the bits and pieces you caught from an earlier conversation, it appears the generator is located somewhere inside. You push the door open and step into the dimly lit corridor. There’s another door to the right that leads back outside. To the left, the path stretches out into another room.

Makoto is inside, putting away some tools. He hums a tired sound to indicate he’s aware of your presence behind him. 

“Hey,” your greeting is curt. “Yuu has woken up. I’m driving him to the pond to get washed.”

Makoto doesn’t direct a glance at you. He focuses on his activity instead. “Who authorized it?”

“Shinoa.”

He sighs, finally turning around with his arms on either side of his waist. “We shouldn’t be driving back and forth so much. It might draw attention.” He reaches for the back pocket of his pants and tosses the keys at you anyway. 

Raising your able hand beside your head, you catch them with ease. Your expression remains blank. “We’re not exactly being subtle with the electricity either. I’m sure the lights will stick out at night.”

“Whoever thought we’d be using them of our own free will clearly didn’t know better.” His comment irks you, and for the looks of it, he notices. Either to avoid a fight or simply skip past you without wasting more time, he's the first to give up on the argument. “I’m not stopping you. Just pointing out a statement.” He grabs the tool kit and takes his leave, brushing past your shoulder on his way to the door. “The vampire will be there, I take it. He’ll provide enough protection.”

You clench your fists. “Mikaela.”

“What?”

You don’t need to look behind you to know he has stopped. “His name is Mikaela.” 

He huffs a quiet sound. “Isn’t he a vampire?” 

You swallow your emotions with a calculated exhale you make sure he hears. Though your effort keeps you poised on the outside, it does little to help the bitterness simmering in your chest. “Going by that stupid answer, I might as well start calling you asshole.”

He already has one foot out the door when his eyes stop to aim a glare in your direction, quiet and smoldering. Nothing else is said. He resumes his path and walks out, letting the door slide to a close.

You sigh a quick puff of air. There's no denying that Makoto's being an ass, but personal issues aside, you understand where he's coming from. Almost anything and everything is an enemy these days. Vampires are currently on top of the food chain and it's only natural he would develop an instinctual hatred for them. Makoto hasn't interacted enough with Mikaela to know he's different. 

What a bother. Being empathic is a pain in the ass. 

Though you've never been more than distant comrades, a lot of your interactions with Makoto stemmed from mutual respect. Whatever he once thought of you has now shattered and it's up to you to piece it back together. 

As you come out, Yuichiro is quick to greet you at the door, a smile spreading on his face. He abuses your name one and too many times, then adds in whispers, "I have a plan."

"Oh, no." Whatever it is, it can’t be anything good.

"Just hear me out." He grabs your arms and pulls you back into the kitchen. There’s a map sprawled on the table. He must have taken it from the living room. "We're here–" 

It’s upside down. You turn it around and raise a brow at him. 

He waves you off without a spare thought. "Same thing. You see this blue circle? That has to be another pond, right? It looks much bigger than the one you guys went to." 

"Yeah, but it’s further away and we don't know whether it’s contaminated or not.” 

"But if it isn’t,” he says, peering up at you. “There's a chance there might be fish swimming there. It looks like a natural pond."

You drawl out a tired groan. "You can't be serious."

"It's the opportunity of a lifetime.” He keeps his excitement at the volume of whispers. “I can wash and we can bring back real food."

“We’re risking a lot based on assumption.”

“The bigger the risk, the bigger the reward.”

"It's a two hour ride, Yuichiro,” you reply, deadpan. “The other pond is only forty five minutes away.”

Yuichiro whines, once again impersonating a five year old to perfection. "Aren't you tired of eating beans?" 

Tempting question, but the idea is still dumb. "We don't even know how to fish. We don't have nets."

He waves you off again. "How hard can it be?" 

“You’re a pain in the ass.” You place your knuckles on your waist and eye the map. Kimizuki mentioned the area a couple of times before, but it was ultimately discarded via group votes. Traveling long hours by car comes at the risk of exposure and you've experienced enough of that the last couple of months. “You know Mikaela's coming too, right? He won't agree to this." 

He cracks a questionable chuckle, hinting at something mischievous. "Mika doesn't have to know."

Your brows pull up. "You're suggesting we trick him?"

"Why not?" 

"Uh, have you seen him get pissed?" 

"It'll be fine.” He inflicts a playful punch on your shoulder. His nonchalance is gradually pissing you off. “He appears to be in a much better mood than before."

You huff, expressing annoyance in a quick roll of eyes. "You only just woke up." 

"Yeah, but reading Mika is so easy." He throws the comment like it wasn’t that big a deal, blowing a hole in your pride. He’s saying it’s the easiest thing to do? How the fuck? It took you weeks just to get to where you are, and you can’t say you know even a quarter of the enigma that is Mikaela Hyakuya. 

"You guys made up, right?” he continues, broadening his smile. “I can see it in his eyes. He's really happy now. Did he have any blood while I was out? I hope it wasn’t too much of a problem." 

Your nod is timid. You keep your eyes on the tip of your shoes and say, "He's fine now. We're fine." 

"I'm glad to hear that. You don't need to worry anymore. I'll keep count of the days and help him next time." 

You’ve come to notice that Yuichiro shows a slightly altered side of him whenever Mikaela is brought into conversation. Despite the stubbornness that is constantly pushing the vampire's concerns aside, you can tell without a shadow of a doubt that there’s a certain fondness to his tone reserved only for his beloved family member. 

You haven't been tempted to question the nature of their relationship before. Yours doesn’t have a label, and it would be hypocritical of you to expect theirs to come with its own title, especially with Mikaela having little to no control of his emotions. Still, you wonder what goes on behind closed doors whenever Yuichiro gets his blood sucked. Does he feel the same things you do? 

"Say…" 

Yuichiro stops ogling the map to offer you a glance. "What's up?" 

"Do you feel…” Expressing your thoughts becomes harder while you try to come up with the words. “Something or…anything, like…tingles? You know, like…when he's drinking and stuff?" 

"Oh, yeah,” he replies, long and thoughtful. “It feels weirdly good. What's up with that? I hate that part."

You can’t say you weren’t expecting a response of that nature, but it tightens something in your chest. You're amazed at how much of a kid you prove yourself to be. Better to blame it on hunger issues. Fish sounds like it would be a nice change. There’s something artificial about canned food that just doesn’t cut it anymore. You can already picture the red meat over the fire, turning light brown as it cooks to completion, smell wafting through the air.

When your stomach utters its first round of noises, you settle on a decision. "Okay, let's drive there."

Yuichiro punches the air. "Yes!"

"But.” You raise a finger in front of his face, halting his movements. “If we come back empty handed, you're taking the blame for wasting gas."

"Deal. Just don't tell anyone until we–" 

"Don't tell anyone what?" 

Both you and Yuichiro spin around, following the sound of Mikaela’s voice. His expression is a placid kind of serious. He’s probably expecting the worst, and he might be right in assuming that. 

"Oh, hey, Mika. Ya ready to go?" Yuichiro is far too nonchalant to appear innocent. Mikaela sees through the poor act right away.

"Don't tell anyone what?" he repeats, not a crack on his stoic face or voice.

“It’s not important.”

“Clearly, it is.” When his eyes flicker in your direction, you flinch on instinct. The knowing look he wears confirms that you gave yourself away. “What is he up to?” is a demand rather than a question. 

“Uh…”

“Not your business, Mika. We were just talking.” The step he takes towards the door announces his intent to depart, but a grip on the back of his shirt stops him before he can take another. Mikaela’s restraint is inescapable. 

“You’re not leaving this spot until you tell me what you’re plotting.” 

Yuichiro groans. “Mika,” he drags out the name as if it weighed on his mouth. 

You cross your arms, unable to hide the small tilt of your lips. “You two should have your own show, seriously.”

“It would be the most boring show coz he…” Green eyes lay their annoyance on the vampire. “Wouldn’t let me do anything.”

“And you would likely be the death of me,” comes Mikaela’s monotone reply. 

You breathe a quiet laugh. “Okay, enough with the theatrics. Let’s go before the sunset catches up to us.” 

Yuichiro wiggles his brows at Mikaela, a shameless grin on his face stating his victory. “You heard her.”

“I’m driving.”

Mikaela’s response warrants another groan from Yuichiro. “Mika, you’re being extra annoying today. I just woke up, come on.”

His sharp eyes don’t show even a hint of letting up. Because Mikaela tends to be quiet, you often forget he matches Yuichiro's stubbornness. “She’s not well enough to drive for that long.”

You tilt your head to the side. “I’m fine. What do you mea–?”

“I took too much last night.” Mikaela continues to stare at the other boy, whose face transforms with newfound comprehension. You’ll agree he fed more than he usually does, but the hole in your stomach and the absence of strength in your muscles is likely attributed to poor nutrition. You haven't been making an effort to eat. 

“Oh, that’s what’s happening?” Yuichiro steers his bright gaze in your direction. “You don’t hafta come along. Mika and I will be fine on our own. Maybe you should rest like he says.”

Is he serious? And after going out of his way to convince you about the stupid fish? Your stomach has started to grumble twice as much thanks to him.

The look you have must be speaking for itself. Yuichiro nods, as if he had somehow peeked into your mind. “Next time,” he says.

“There won’t be a next time.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

Mikaela shoves himself in between you to stop the exchange. “Would you two stop being so cryptic?”

You tilt sideways to connect with Yuichiro’s eyes once again. “I hope you know my hunger has multiplied by a billion ever since you brought it up.” 

Yuichiro mirrors your movements. “Right? That’s how I’ve been feeling since I woke up.”

“Oh, so you had to drag me down with you.” 

“I needed someone reliable.”

You give Mikaela a flicker of a glance. “Low blow.”

“Hey, you know that’s not what I meant,” he tries to save it. “Mika doesn’t get hungry, okay?”

“Sure, sure.”

“It’s true!”

Mikaela takes a step to the side, blocking your view of Yuichiro once again. He catches you with his red stare and pins you in place. The tension staining his demeanour has yet to wash off. “What is going on?” The volume of his voice drops significantly, as if the words were meant only for you to hear. 

From the other side, Yuichiro pushes out a triumphant ‘ha!’. “Good luck getting anything out of her, Mika.”

The vampire paces forward, inciting in you the need to move back a step. His posture is domineering, his stare relentless. Ducking over to Yuichiro’s side is but a thought in your mind when Mikaela surprises you with a touch on your cheek. His finger marks a featherlight path up and down. You aren’t sure whether Yuichiro sees or not, but Mikaela doesn’t appear to be thinking twice about it. 

“Don’t ignore me,” he whispers, impersonating a cute child in the most poisonous of ways. 

Oh. My. God. This charming fucker. 

You won’t let up. Your pride is at stake here. “Yuichiro wanted to risk a two hour ride under the assumption there might be fish in a bigger pond.”

So much for that. 

Mikaela whips around without a moment’s hesitation, giving you a complete view of his slender back. “That’s what this is about? Really, Yuichiro?”

The mentioned boy inches to the side, hunting after your eyes. “Hey! I trusted you!”

“Sorry,” you say, serious in nature. “Vampire mind control.”

“Vampires can’t do that!”

This one can, it seems. 

“We already have food here,” continues Mikaela, ignoring the banter. 

“That tastes like shit!”

“Given the circumstances, you’re in no position to be picky. Going to and from the pond will amount to at least four hours. It’s not worth it.”

“Not worth it to you.” At the sight of Mikaela’s unwavering resistance, Yuichiro gives up on whatever tough exterior he was trying to put on and grabs both of the vampire's arms, pleading, “Come on, Mika. The quality of the food is also important. Ya think energy bars and beans oughta be enough to fill her up after blood loss?”

Another low blow, but it manages to break the first of Mikaela’s many walls. His posture loses power, and though you can't see past the side of his profile, it's clear that something changes on his face. 

Guilt bubbles in your chest. Before you can say something, Mikaela turns back to you, eyes hugging you with a visual caress. “Would you feel better if it was fish?”

“Eh…” The words get stuck in your throat. Having him here, looking at you like you could break if he ogled too hard, makes the entire ordeal seem pointless. Who even cares about the food? You just want to lay down with him again. “Uh, it-it’d be a nice change, but it isn't important so...”

Yuichiro looks at you like you've murdered his pet dog. 

Mikaela pushes out a quiet sigh. Rather than annoyance, it shows surrender. “This is reckless,” he murmurs on his way to the door. 

Yuichiro skips over to your side, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “You’re a walking miracle.”

Heat creeps up to your cheeks. “Don’t exaggerate.” If your expression doesn’t give you away, the clumsiness of those two words most definitely does.

[...]

You whistle. “Color me impressed.”

The car-ride seemed painless in theory until it was put into practice. Leaving the objective to mere chance made it twice as hard for your ass to handle being seated two hours straight. It didn’t help that the ambience was dead silent all throughout. The tension Mikaela expelled was strong enough to trigger your fears as well. He didn’t have to remind you of the many times you were attacked in plain sight for roaming around the world as if you owned it. 

In the end, you’re glad to announce it was a hundred percent worth the hassle. The pond is three times the size of the one you bathed in with the girls and it isn’t bloody red or flooding with apocalyptic monsters. The plains around it are shining with bright grass, the vegetation looks alive and thriving. The odds of finding actual living beings in the pond are stacked in your favor. 

Yuichiro skips on his spot. “Yes! See, Mika? I told you!”

Said vampire makes a stop beside him, looking far from impressed despite the wonderful view. “You totally winged it.”

“So what? It paid off!”

“Okay but…” You raise the bag you’re carrying in your hands to make a point. “How do you suppose we’ll catch the fish?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” answers Yuichiro. “With our hands.”

You spend three whole seconds staring at him with an empty look that states how done you are with his bullshit. “That isn’t obvious.”

He pokes his chest with his thumb, grinning. “You’ll see.”

The water is still, and it appears to be unalive. It’s completely see-through, proof of how clean it is, most likely untouched by human hands. You wonder if this is an accurate representation of water prior to the apocalypse. The sight is pure beauty and you wish the oceans were exactly like this.

But there’s nothing roaming around. The drive here might end up being pointless, after all. 

You manage a record of sixty seconds in silence before desperation takes over. Lips parted, you’re ready to utter a set of curses when Yuichiro’s hand swings in front of you, a wordless call for you to stay put. 

The water trembles. It’s only a slight movement, but it’s an indicator of life, and to back up your growing expectations, a fish eventually appears. The size isn’t anything to fawn over, not to mention the fact one won’t fill a single stomach. For now, knowing there’s something will serve as enough of an incentive.

“Don’t mess this up,” you whisper, eyes glued to the fish like it was the incarnation of an aquatic goddess. 

“Just watch and learn.” Yuichiro follows it with his sight. He raises his arm to the level of his neck and dips it into the water. However, the force that comes with the action is uncontrolled and it tips his entire body off. Gravity takes charge, tossing him into the water. 

You thought you’d get mad. Instead, you're fighting to keep your lips down. “I’m watching. Not sure there’s anything to learn here.”

Yuichiro swims back to the surface. He inhales a mouthful of air and whips his head to rid his eyes of the black bangs blocking his view. “I totally meant to do that. It’ll be easier to catch the fish this way.”

Mikaela walks to the border of the pond and crouches down beside you. His blank stare degrades Yuichiro from above. “No, you’ll just scare the fish,” he utters his first words in a while, sounding unimpressed.

Yuichiro swims around the area, but Mikaela’s statement proves to be accurate. Nothing comes around. 

Your mind settles. “Okay, I’ll try.”

Don’t even think about it, Karkodan intercepts just as you settle a grip on the fan. Usually, you’re not one to obey, but the growl he adds to the sentence drives your hand away in the next second.

“Okay, forget it,” you mutter, joining Yuichiro on a sigh. 

“Asuramaru doesn’t want to either.” He ponders to the sky for a moment's pause, then turns to face his friend. “Hey, Mika–”

“No.”

You steer your gaze across the scenery, hands posed on your waist. “Maybe we can make a spear out of branches or something.”

“Great idea!” Yuichiro pulls himself out of the pond. The action sprinkles some water onto yours and Mikaela’s attire. Your insults are completely ignored as he runs past you and towards the collection of trees. “Let’s try! We ain’t going home fishless.”

Mikaela follows him with his eyes. The tiredness remains untouched on his face. “I can’t stand him sometimes.”

You huff. “Noted.” Even so, you get up and join the action, though with the intention of doing something else. You head back to the vehicle and grab the energy bar you brought in case of an emergency. There's a chance the fish will munch on oats and dry nuts. 

Yuichiro is already set when you return. “Found the perfect branch!” One hand holds it vertically, the other points to it, showing it off. “It has a sharp end and everything!”

You toss a few crumbs into the water and wait. The seconds tick by, but it doesn’t take nearly as long as the first time before multiple fish appear. “Hell yes. It actually worked. Come on, Yuu.”

Spouting a battlecry you and Mikaela would have fared better without, Yuichiro shoves the spear into the water and drags it back out empty. The fish disperse in that instant, water clean of food. You didn’t think they’d eat it that fast. 

This time around, you do get upset. The look you give him shows irritation. “Seriously? Aren’t you supposed to be part demon?”

“I’m trying!”

“Try harder.”

He flips angry eyes at you. “I’m already trying harder!”

"Then do better.” 

He looks to the left. “You’re not helping, Mika.”

“Give me that.” You take the spear from Yuichiro and inch closer to the edge. With some more crumbs in the water, the fish come back to devour their second meal. You slice through the air and pierce the water, then end up equally empty-handed. “Fuck!” Fishing is hard. 

“Hey,” Yuichiro snickers beside you. “I think you should try harder.”

You give him the stare of an eagle, spear at the level of your face. “How about I fish out your guts instead?” 

“That’s graphic.” 

Stick discarded, you stand up and course around Yuichiro, ready to toss what’s left of your pride into the water. “Mika, please help us.” You clasp your hands together and curl a timid smile. Truly, you would throw yourself at him and play the part of a needy girlfriend, but you doubt he’d find that amusing. What else can you try?

“Okay.”

Oh, that was easy. 

Yuichiro is on the ground, getting water out of his boot. He looks up at the two of you and huffs. “Wow, I wish we would have started there.”

Miakela doesn’t pay him any mind. He scoots to the edge and stays crouched on his feet, arms hugging his knees, stare honed with utmost concentration. Watching him from the sidelines, you can’t help but compare him to a cat. 

“Okay, here goes,” you murmur, tossing more crumbs into the water.

Fish appear, and the rest happens in a blur. Mikaela raises his arm, fingers straight, and dashes it into the water.

Next thing you know, he has a wiggling fish in his clutches.

Your jaw drops. “Holy shit.”

“Nice, Mika!” Yuichiro gives him a pat on the back and stretches out the plastic bag before his eyes. “In it goes!”

Mikaela tosses the fish inside, then veers back towards the pond, making an expression anyone else would reserve for the battlefield. “More crumbs.”

Less than five minutes later, and at the expense of an entire energy bar, you conclude the afternoon stock-full of fish. 

“Is that enough?” asks Mikaela. Though the question is directed at you, Yuichiro is the one who takes the word. 

“This is perfect! We have enough to last us for days!”

You pull your hands out of the water and swipe them on your pants to dry them. A smile shines bright on your face. “Let’s hope the freezer is still working. I’m sure Kimizuki can do something about it if it’s not.”

“Now that dinner’s done.” Yuichiro flings his shirt off without warning. “I can finally wash the grime off.”

You spin in the opposite direction. “And that’s my ticket out.”

Mikaela joins your route back to the van. “I’ll carry the bag for you.”

You hear the splash of water, prompting you to keep your attention solely on the front. You find it ridiculous how you couldn’t stand to catch even a glimpse of Yuichiro’s bare torso when you had already ogled Mikaela's upper body front to back. Granted, you did get infinite times more nervous, but your point still stands. You’re acting like a highschool girl.

Is that wrong, though? You wonder. If life was any different, you’d probably be a highschool girl in present times. 

Pain wakes you out of your thoughts. “Fuck!” You grazed your injured hand against the bark of a tree. Any degree of touch will make your skin tender and it’s starting to become a huge inconvenience. 

 Mikaela rushes to your side in an instant. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You take in air and exhale, then repeat the process a few more times. Your healthy hand clings to the opposite shoulder. “Damn, what’s up with this injury? I don’t understand.” Will it ever get any better? You don't know how you’ll manage in the battlefield going onwards. The days had been going so well you almost forgot about your current circumstances. It’s a call back to earth, an end to this beautiful dream.

You slant against the tree and slide down until you’re seated on the grass. Mikaela crouches down in front of you, studying you in silence. You feel his wandering eyes on your face, but pretend not to. 

“Is, uh, the thing you have inside…” Mikaela struggles to find the proper words. “...dormant?”

You finally gather enough courage to look back. Red irises glow under the rays of the sunset, bringing crimson to a whole other level. From all of the times you've seen sapphires in place of eyes, right now, they're the brightest you’ve ever seen them. “I think so,” you murmur, half out of your mind. “Karkodan says he’s keeping it under control. At least for the time being.”

“What are you planning to do about it?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t really given it much thought. Guren might have the answers.”

He shakes his head. “It’s too risky.”

“Everything about our lives is risky. It comes with the job.” You aren’t excited either. However, you have learned a lot these past days. Running away is an option, yes, but it comes at a hard price you’re not willing to pay ever again. 

“I don’t want him to use you.”

Your lips part, answer stuck in your throat. His eyes speak devotion as they look into you, touching your soul and warming it.  

The next words have to be ripped out of your lungs or else you’ll remain quiet. “I won’t let him,” is more air than actual voice. 

“Neither will I.” Healthy hand in his tender grasp, he meets it halfway with his pale lips on your knuckles. He keeps his mouth there, breathing in your scent, lids driven to a close. 

Oh my God.

Your chest is about to fucking implode. You swear your heart is trying to leap out through your mouth. It palpitates so loud you hear it in your ears, and it’s a given he does too. “What are you doing?” Your voice stumbles on weightless pants. 

“I don’t know,” he murmurs the answer into your hand, lips tickling the skin. “I just felt like doing it. Do humans show affection like this?”

You can’t breathe. Your face is burning. A fire could be swarming the entire forest and you wouldn’t note a difference. “You’re doing something to me, Mikaela.” 

The last bit of air leaves you when he opens his eyes. He takes your hand down and keeps his fingers locked in between yours. “That makes two of us.” 

Chapter Text

"So you're like me then?" 

It takes you a second to think about it. "I don't know. Are any of your body parts charred?" 

"No."

"Is your own power killing you?" 

"I guess not."

You lean back, placing the palm of your good hand behind you. The sun shines bright over your face. "I might be something different. Maybe a failed experiment." 

Yuichiro bumps shoulders with you in a playful manner. "Hey, we can ask Guren once we find him. He knew what I was. There's a chance he knows what you are too."

As gullible as ever. Nothing is different. You suppose it was too far-fetched of you to think he might have changed his mind after being comatosed for a few days. "Doesn't it worry you even one bit?" You turn your head sideways, finding his green eyes. "Honestly, Yuichiro, sometimes I just don't understand you."

"He's our family."

This conversation feels awfully familiar to the ones you’ve had quite a few times already. After a good eye-roll, you take your stare back to the sky. "Yeah, whatever. I won't have this discussion with you again."

"Don't you want to see him?" 

You huff. "Not for the welcoming reunion you're thinking of. I want to get some answers, cuss him out if possible and...I don't know." You shrug a heavy movement with your shoulders. "Hopefully not die."

"Guren would never kill us."

You let out a groan skyward. "Bro, he sent his own soldiers straight to hell. What part of that don’t you understand? Because I’ll explain it to you again." 

He pulls his legs over and crosses them while facing in your direction. The determination transforming his eyes irks you, though that may be your pride getting to you. Of all the people deserving compassion, Guren is the very last in line. "He was being controlled by his demon side," he says with conviction. 

"A side he openly welcomed.” You’re about to continue with another argument, but think better of it. “Forget it, this is pointless. It doesn’t matter if our opinions differ. We both want the same thing.” You fist the grass, digging nails into the dirt. “Which is finding that Guren bastard if it's the last thing we do."

He smacks your back with his open palm and earns a tired groan for it. "That's the spirit!"

"Anyway...” You hike up your feet and stand up. With your healthy hand posed on the side of your waist, you peer down at your companion. “The main reason I came here was to ask you a favor."

"Shoot."

"Help me train."

Surprise only lingers on his face for a flicker of a second before it morphs into a full-blown grin of white teeth. "You don't need to ask me twice." He springs to his feet and runs to the opposite side of the field, blade drawn from its sheath. 

You settle a grip on your fan and wince. The impulsive reaction made you already forget you're not supposed to use the dominant one. It’s the main reason why you’re here. Sighing, you switch hands and pull Karkodan off your belt. Even simply holding him feels strange. You test your mobility with a couple of swings in the air that end up being clumsy. Training hasn’t started and you’re already fearing the worst. 

“Ready?” Yuichiro asks. 

You breathe out through your nose and snap the fan open. “Yeah…” Before you can finish that one word, Yuichiro has already crossed half the distance to get to you. “Oh, shit, wait–” You react in the nick of time. The clash of steel against steel rings in the air, creating a gust of wind that disperses around you both. Karkodan quivers in your hold. You clench your teeth and barely dodge a swing aimed at your legs. "Fucking hell. Dial it down a bit, would you?" 

"Sorry." His expression doesn’t match the term of that word. Yuichiro appears to be enjoying the moment, much to your annoyance, and continues delivering attacks you avoid by the skin of your teeth. “I’m so excited," he admits among heavy breaths. "I’ve been wanting to battle you for so long.”

If you’d known that sooner, you wouldn’t have asked him for a duel. First impressions matter and your current performance isn’t a representation of how you usually carry yourself in battle. In terms of offense, you're utterly useless. You don’t even want to think about how Kakordan may be feeling. His pride is ten times worse than yours and it just so happens that Yuichiro owns one of the special grade weapons your demon hates so much. 

You protect your face from another swing, but the force of that attack beats your hand in strength and sends your fan flying out of your grip. 

You're a disgrace, Karkodan sneers inside your head. There’s really no point in refuting. For once, you agree with him wholeheartedly. 

Yuichiro walks up to you, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Eh, so...I don't know how to ask this, but, uh…” He looks off somewhere past you to avoid connecting gazes. “Were you...going easy on me?”

You go after Karkodan and pick him up. Dirt is all over him and you can feel his anger digging imaginary holes in the palm of your hand. The fan has gotten warmer. "I'm using my non-dominant hand, Yuu." 

A bulb lights up in his head, changing the expression on his face. "Oh, I get it now. That's why you wanted to train."

"Yes, so please go easy on me.” You take a stance of preparation. “Karkodan doesn't like getting tossed to the ground."

He nods. "Okay, got it."

The fight gets relatively easy thanks to Yuichiro’s comprehension. He gives you the chance to make the first move, parries your movements with lesser speed and reduces the force of his counter attacks, yet despite his efforts, Karkodan flies off your hand time and time again. First, he dives into the trunk of a tree. Then, he lands on a puddle of water, and you honestly didn’t think you would come out of that one alive. Luckily, he spares you with another chance. 

He flies to the rooftop of the porch, gets stuck on a tree branch, spins to a stop under the van. Your tenth failed attempt ends up with him on the grass once again, and as you bend forward to pick him up, a burst of demon power pushes you back. Karkodan is furious, quite evidently. He hasn’t bothered to waste his breath on insults, but the dense silence speaks for itself.

I’m sorry, Karkodan, you think in your head. Give me another chance.

When you bend down, he rejects your hand with another blast of energy, which tips you off your feet. 

“Oh, fuck you!” You get up just to prepare your leg for a front kick. Fortunately, either for Karkodan or yourself, Yuichiro steps in, disrupting your stable position by tugging back your arm. 

"Woah, woah, cool down,” he says. “You don't wanna make your demon angry."

You scoff, turning your head to glare daggers at the weapon. " Please, Karkodan lives in anger. Can't blame him, I guess.” You raise the volume of your voice to emphasize the next words. “Being stuck in there must be depressing. "

Is that any way to treat the one keeping you alive? 

Let me die for all I care. 

Don't tempt me. 

You growl at the sky, then fetch after Karkodan to shove him in the back pocket of your trousers. "I'm trying for you, okay? Gimme a break."

While you leer behind you with your arms crossed, Yuichiro chuckles and puts his blade away. "I say we go under the shade for a bit." You both have sheens of sweat on your forehead and cheeks. Unlike you, however, who’s half out of breath because of training, Yuichiro looks collected and with enough energy to spare. At most, he's only a tad dehydrated on account of the sun. 

You follow him to the nearest tree and slide down against the trunk with only a couple of inches of space between you and Yuichiro. "What an ass…" you mutter, still thinking of Karkodan. You won’t deny you were doing this for yourself, but your demon partner was also a primary thought in your head when you decided to practice. The least he could do is appreciate your efforts.

Whatever. You keep forgetting he's a demon. 

"Hey," says Yuichiro, calling your attention back to him. "Family fights all of the time."

"Fam–" You nearly choke on your own spit, head swinging to find his green eyes. "You call demons family now? What is wrong with you?" 

"They protect us."

"Because of a contract."

Amusement stretches a smile on his face. "You just said you're trying for him. That means you care."

The silence prolongs as you study him intently, trying to find the traces of a joke on his expression. He appears serious, which makes you huff out a loud breath. "I care about my well being. Clearly, we both have different perspectives about what makes a family."

"Are we your family?" His voice is nonchalant, and it catches your whole attention. 

The you from a couple of weeks ago would have denied the question in a heartbeat. You used to be bitter, jealous, and unreasonably distant. The influx of events hardly gave you time to think things through following the aftermath, but now that you are, there's no denying things have changed. You have changed and your perspective has changed. 

The team forgave you despite the gravity of your mistakes. Not many people would do that unless they truly cared. 

Stuck in your mind, you turn to the sky and exhale through your nose. "I guess. Yeah."

His smile widens to the size of a grin. "Then we aren't that different after all."

"You're a piece of work, you know that?" Even so, the curve of your lips mirrors his as you watch the moving clouds. You had abandoned the concept of family some time ago and taking it back feels strange. A little scary, too. The rest of the team would call a random dog on the street their family, so they might not understand your predicament, but this is quite a big deal to you. As far as your memory takes you, your meaning of family started and ended with the man who committed the biggest treason of all. 

You drop your attention onto your intertwined hands. The tight grasp on each other makes them tremble. "Guren was like a brother to me," you grumble, avoiding the couple of widened eyes Yuichiro directs your way. You figure it's his first time hearing Guren's name in your mouth with something other than vile. 

The surprise only lasts a short instance as a relaxed smile returns to his face. "I'm sure he thinks of you like a sister, too."

You quirk an unimpressed brow at him. "Do brothers usually try to kill their sisters in plain sight?" 

"Guren's a special kind of bastard." He shrugs. The intention behind it, however, is the opposite of annoyed. "What can ya do about that?" 

Nothing, you think. Nothing at all. Still, you can't deny he was a pillar in your life at some point. Even if it was all an act, you pulled through some tough moments thanks to him. 

"The first time I met him," you begin. "He had gone to my school looking for you; spouted some nonsense, probably trying to sound cool in front of a fourteen year old, and invited me to the army. That's my first memory of him, but…" You nibble your lower lip, head full of new thoughts. You remember that dream you had once. About Guren and Shinya, and the terrifying man. "I think I might have met him before when I was smaller. Prior to the apocalypse. It's hard to tell whether it was Karkodan or a memory." You wait in silence, tongue lighter now that you've released those words into the open. Surprised that Yuichiro hasn't added anything, you steer your head sideways. "Yuu–"

A hand wraps around your throat and squeezes. Your hands shoot up on instinct, fingers digging each nail into the skin on his wrist. His grip only tightens in response. 

The air gets stuck in your throat and fights to come out through breathless heaves. Past the mist blurring your vision, what was once forest green now shines bright with red and malice, pupils slit like those of a demon. 

"Y-yuu…" Your thoughts become mush with the lack of oxygen in your brain. The sudden voices in the background fall second to the pulse drilling holes into the walls of your throat. 

The images dim until nothing else remains but the color of absolute darkness. 

"She's not breathing, sir!" 

What? 

"Don't touch her." Insanity hides behind a velvet sound of calm composure. "The treatment is working." 

You recognize that voice. It used to torment your dreams many years ago. How could you have forgotten? 

You still can't breathe, can't see, can't think straight. The fingers have left your throat alone, but your airways remain blocked. 

"Sir, her vitals," another voice of male resonance rings from your other side. 

"Silence!" A couple of fingers dust a tender caress across your cheek. Just knowing it belongs to the man your body knows to fear on instinct makes the touch poisonous on your skin. "Come on, sweet child. Don't you dare die on me." 

Your arms are driven to tug, but they're kept bound to the surface you lay on by restraints around your wrists and ankles. You cough and gag, trying to vomit the chunk clogging your throat from the inside. 

Eventually, what feels like dense liquid seeps past your lips and trails down your chin. Finally, it gets easier to breathe. Panting and weeping, you flutter open your eyes with the little energy keeping you conscious. 

Then you see him. Smooth, dark hair; two voids of black in his eyes; a gloating smile. He peers at you from above, limiting the range of what you're able to see. The place appears to be some sort of obscure room.

You look down and hardly recognize your body, and not because it's marred with bruises and cuts. It's much smaller, resembling an eight year old's. It's weak and useless, and you have no chance of saving yourself. 

"You will help me gather the seraphs," he says, sounding dark and malicious.

Your lids grow heavy against your will. You try to stay awake, but tiredness rules over with an iron fist and you collapse in a bed of unconsciousness. 

The cold weather wakes you up in an instant. You raise your face from the pillow of snow and study your surroundings. There's no end to the coat of white on the floor. It stretches out into the horizon, mixing in with the gray skies. 

As steps grow in volume from behind you, your heart sparks alive in your chest. The man of black takes over your thoughts, and the fear he ignites bubbles up in your throat. 

"It's a child."

Wait.

"Oh, my God. How awful!" 

You know these voices.

Hands wrap around your waist and pry you off the cold surface of snow. Your first instinct tells you to struggle. However, your body remains too weak to follow the command. 

"Did you run all the way here by yourself?" 

You're cradled in a bed of heat, and the feeling that washes over you relaxes you with relief. Opening your eyes, you see them. The images are an old memory your brain was close to discarding, but they resurface brighter than ever before. 

"It's okay, child. We've got you."

The faces of your parents. 

"You can rest now."

And so you do. Because you trust them with your life. This time around, you embrace the darkness with open arms, feeling cared for and safe. 

The next time you open your eyes, you're back to lying on the ground. Your surroundings are familiar. You recognize the destruction, the smell of corpses and the daunting silence. 

The apocalypse has already happened, taking with it the life of your parents. 

"My DNA runs in your veins."

Your skin crawls again, that velvet voice piercing your ears. It belongs to the man who tortured you a while ago. 

Metal scrapes against a sheath and slices through the air. You recognize it as the pull of a sword. "You lie, Saito."

Saito. So that's the God forsaken name of this monster. Saito. 

And the one who revealed it sounds like Guren. Now you remember. This was one of your dreams. You recall hiding behind the bushes and listening in on the conversation without being able to understand what the fuck was being talked about. 

"That girl you're protecting," says Saito with a lighthearted tone. "You may as well keep her since she's of no use to me anymore. Let us hope her brother proves himself a far better puppet."

You suck in a breath. New thoughts form in your head, but you aren't given the time to process them. The plain fields of grass surrounding you turn soft and humid. Before you know it, the ground breaks apart under your weight and you sink in the water. 

You kick, flap and wiggle, fighting the pull of gravity, swimming after the light that seems to climb higher the closer you move after it. 

Someone says your name. The sound is soft and inviting, and it comes from the surface, as if asking you to follow the call in order to survive. 

You do exactly that. You kick the water and flail your arms, and with enough effort, the edge at long last gets closer. Your lungs are about to collapse from lack of air. 

The voice saying your name gains agitation. He calls again and again, and you're desperate to answer back. 

Almost there.  

"Wake up!" 

You open your eyes and sit up so fast the urge to barf brings your hands to your mouth. You struggle for air, but a fit of coughs keeps you short-winded. 

“Breathe.”

You wiggle in short breaths here and there, and slowly, very slowly , your chest eases, giving your lungs the chance to fill with air. One hand rests on the spot above your frantic heart, fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt. The other lays on your thigh, buried underneath the tender caress of a cold palm. 

“That’s it.” Mikaela’s tone becomes a clear sound to your ears. He brushes a finger over your cheek, drying a stray tear. “You’re alright now.”

Your stare is lost on some corner of the room, head in a completely different dimension. You have so many thoughts running rampant inside, none of which you can even begin to identify. They fall on top of one another, crash, mix, become one, split into separate identities. You don’t know what you're thinking of. Saito. Guren. Your parents. The apocalypse. The seraphs. What goes first? Which event follows after? What is real and what isn’t? 

“Hey.” A couple of hands cradle the sides of your face, pulling it over to make your glossy eyes meet with tender wine. “It’s me.”

It’s him. “Mikaela.” A shaky croak strings the name together. 

His cool touch travels to the back of your head and settles there. With a gentle pull, your forehead kisses his own. “Yes,” he answers, soft and quiet. His red stare stays devoted to your tear-stained eyes. 

For once, it’s not enough. Your heart kicks and screams, thoughts tainted with the wretched image of someone else. The next words leave you without any filter, a helpless whisper asking to the empty air, “Who’s Saito?”

“What?” Mikaela inches back just enough to look at you properly. A slight crease pushes down his thin line of brows. “You know him?”

In a single blink, your pupils dart in search of his gaze. Of all possible responses, the one he gave you wasn’t even a possibility in your mind. “You know him?” is a broken whisper in your throat. 

“Yeah, he was a kind person–”

Your jaw drops, eyes blown-wide. How can he even suggest that? “He’s a fucking monster!” 

You don’t know why you’re claiming this with such vigor. Sure, you dreamt of atrocities committed by this very man, but outside of the images created in your sleep, you have no memories of this person ever existing in your life. 

If Mikaela knows him, though, then he’s most definitely real. His involvement was real, his abuse was real and the damage he left behind is absolutely fucking real. 

Your outburst catches Mikaela off guard, revealed only by the stare he briefly widens. “What?” He sounds flabbergasted, too. 

Your mouth opens to affirm it, then closes when the words fail to take any shape. You were sure Saito and his deeds were real a second ago, but now you’re not so sure. You only have your nightmares to back it up, of which few to none make any sense in both order and details. 

The mixture of ideas spur a hefty sigh you release through your mouth. “I don’t know,” you say, voice cracking. “I don’t know. Fuck, I don’t know. I was choking on something because of him–I don’t know.”

His expression falls with what looks like guilt and sadness. “Yuu transformed into his demon side,” is all he offers as explanation. 

Between frantic movements, you shake your head. “No, no. Saito strapped me to a table and–”

“Yuu grabbed–” He cuts the sentence short and thinks it through for a couple of seconds. “...the demon controlling him grabbed you from the throat and you fainted," he corrects. 

You pause. 

That’s right. You were training with Yuichiro. Then you sat under the shade of a tree and it happened: he transformed. 

Saito. You can’t stop thinking about Saito. He’s the devil incarnated in your eyes. 

You throw the covers off and swing your legs to the side, feet planted on the cold floor. “I can’t breathe.” 

“Yes, you can.” Mikaela stands up after you. His calm mien is surprisingly unhelpful. It makes you feel misunderstood, like you’re exaggerating your feelings. 

The walls in the room are closing in on you. The floor oscillates and the objects around you dance. You can hear your intakes of breath loud in your ears, but for some reason your lungs don’t feel them. “No.” The single word is too heavy on your tongue. “I-I can’t.”

“You should sit down–” His attempt at taking your hand backfires. You spin around and back off into the far wall, wearing your feelings on your face: rage, fear, hurt and so much confusion. 

“Shut up!” Your voice breaks as your back makes contact with the wall. Instinctively, you pat your waist for Karkodan, only to realize he’s not in his usual place. Your eight year old self resurfaces as a result, weak, scared and defenseless. 

The knock on the door is only a faint sound, yet you catch it nonetheless. “Is everything alright in there?” The voice belongs to a female. You’re not in the state of mind to depict who. 

“Don’t come in. She’s panicking.”

Who’s saying that? Is it Saito? Oh, God. What if it’s Saito? 

Saito. Saito. Saito. 

You slide down against the wall and coil into your knees, sobs tearing straight from the deepest parts of your lungs. You push out all of the air and nothing makes it back in. Your chest burns, your head scalds. You don’t feel your arms or legs. 

A cool touch clamps flat on your forehead. If you were actually on fire, steam would have come out of your ears at this point. You raise your head and encounter a pair of worried eyes directly in front of you. 

Blond hair and a cat-like stare. This beautiful being isn't a monster. He's just… “Mikaela.” 

That alone is enough to loosen the tension pulling his brows together. “Yes,” he breathes, sounding relieved. “Yes, it’s me.” 

Right. You would have aimed your weapon at him had it been at your disposal. Shit.

“I’m sorry.” The sound is so weak the wind could blow it to pieces. 

He doesn’t seem to care. Red irises hold you, hand on your forehead skidding down to your cheek. Though he doesn’t utter a sound, the tender expression on his face says enough. 

You melt into his touch and deflate with a sigh. The storm in your brain falls silent and your heart drops back to your chest where it belongs. As time passes, it begins to recover its usual tempo. 

Then come the sensations on your arms and legs. Your body goes back to normal at last, though the leftover crap remaining inside has the bearings of an awful hangover. At the very least, your brain is completely out of signal, and abstract patterns of black and white fill it in place of thoughts. 

“Are you okay now?” he asks.

Are you? You’re not so sure. Despite what your internal voice says, you answer, “Yeah.”

Mikaela takes his hand away and scoots over to your side, where he sits against the wall, shoulder ever so lightly brushing yours. He accommodates without a word and watches you from his peripheral. Meanwhile, you keep your attention on the front, aware of his eyes on your face. The visual weight isn’t intruding, though. You take some minutes to gather your composure, basking in his presence, knowing he will keep you safe. 

When you turn to look at him, he doesn’t even blink. You trail a path with your eyes over his glittering pair of sapphires, the smooth bridge of his nose, his pale cheeks, thin lips, then travel back to his eyes in one flicker. 

Yes. It's just him.

Smiling a tad, you whisper, “Kiss me.”

Mikaela watches you for a moment, stare moving back and forth between your eyes. When it seems like the request has sunk into his head, he leans forward and kisses you, the touch featherly light and gone in a blink. 

You look at him through half-lidded eyes. The ghost of his touch lingers on your lips. His nose still brushes yours and you notice that a dust of pink colors his cheeks. “Kiss me more,” you murmur, and this time around, he abides without a second to waste. 

His lips find yours and mold to their shape. His hand then comes up to cup your face, tugging you more towards him as if he had an overwhelming thirst to satiate. Instead of blood, however, he welcomes the feelings you feed him.

You return the kiss, mouth tender despite your eagerness. The gentle caress on your cheek suddenly gains weight and heat as it becomes twice as pronounced, and your own hand flies to rest over his, touching, longing, savoring his skin with your fingertips. Mikaela's presence is grounding. You don't even remember what you were freaking out about less than three minutes ago. 

You inhale his natural scent of soap, pine trees and a whiff of something metallic; you feel his cool lips and the short breaths on your face. 

Your fingers tighten over his hand. You push forward on your knees and kiss him deeper. The rhythm remains the same, and you don’t dare to get even the tip of your tongue out in fear of overwhelming him. Your lips deliver the message on their own, they wear your feelings for you and stamp them on his mouth. 

As opposed to you, Mikaela doesn’t have a beating heart. Thus, no beat to skip; no labored breathing either; no blood rush, or the outward push of his chest. Just a couple of drunken eyes fluttering open as you both come apart.

You embrace through silent stares and quiet pants. Your surroundings fade, leaving this beautiful vampire as the center of your world. 

“Kiss me more.” You brush the words over his mouth, and Mikaela's hand skims to the back of your neck in response. He tilts after your lips and locks them with his. The press gains depth and mobility now that confidence has settled in. 

Your safe haven is here, and you don’t need anything else. 

Chapter Text

“I think the parents I remember were never my real parents after all. It seems I escaped that wretched orphanage at some point and they ended up finding me later. What little memories I have with them might have started there.”

Mikaela watches you quietly, somewhat stiff with the weight of your head on his shoulder. The cold wall presses against your back. He had offered to take you back to the bed, but you refused in favor of staying seated on the floor beside him. 

“I also had a dream about meeting Guren and Shinya in an alleyway," you continue. The memories are still fresh in your head and your mouth is the only vessel that can get the burden off your chest. "I was asking for their help. Maybe that was before I met my parents? It could have been Karkodan’s doing, I don’t know. My second memory of Guren takes place after the apocalypse and it would seem he knows…" you trail off, name heavy on your tongue. You can't bring yourself to say it. "...well, him .” Saito. “Years later, Guren comes to my school acting like he’s never seen me before. That’s the best order I can think of.”

It's your first time with enough information to build a timeline based on intuition and mere guesses. The authenticity of your past wasn’t a question in your mind prior to this mess unfolding. You had a chunk of memories keeping you safe and in the dark. 

Ignorance is bliss, sure, but it isn’t reality. Escaping it doesn't mean it isn't there. 

Mikaela takes the word. The breaths that come with his words blow onto the crown of your head. “I always knew that Guren person was up to no good. You should stay as far away from him as possible.”

Always so direct. 

“I don’t think that’s possible anymore, Mikaela. This has happened so many times I already feel like I’ve lost my identity. I can’t be sure of what’s true and what isn’t. I don’t know who I am anymore.”

You don't have a past, and with it, you don't have any promises of a future either. You don't know what kind of objective has been decided for you. A path was laid out in front of you by outsiders, one you had no will or part in deciding. 

You only have the present. 

And as Mikaela places his fingers under your chin to guide you to his eyes, you feel his cool and gentle touch, the caress of his stare, his breaths on your face, and realize having the present might be enough after all. So long as he and the rest of the team are in it. 

“You’re you and that’s all you need to know," he says, tone soft and inviting. 

I'm me. That's your reality and nothing can change what you are. Not your hopes, nor the people who make you happy. 

Still sharing visual contact with him, your eyes narrow into a saddened expression. “Mikaela, I’m a monster. That’s who I am.”

“Don’t say that,” he interrupts your sentence before you can finish it. 

“And I’m gradually coming to terms with it," you continue as if he hadn't said anything. "I can’t pretend to be normal anymore. We both know I could be a danger to the world.”

His fingers curl in to close around your chin. The grasp is harmlessly tight. “How is Guren going to fix it? If anything, you’d be walking straight into his hands. He could use you.” 

Despite the clear tension drawing his brows together, you keep the muscles relaxed on your face. “He has the answers I’m seeking. I just know it. I’m tired of not understanding myself. I need to know what the monster in me is capable of doing.”

“And you’re going to risk everything for a couple of answers that might not even be real to begin with?"

“Mikaela," you chuckle. "Have you already forgotten? Yuichiro is going after Guren whether you like it or not. I’m just tagging along for the ride.”

He freezes after one blink, frustrations frozen in place. His mouth opens once, then closes. It's like the words have gotten stuck in his throat.

Eventually, he lets go of your chin and veers his head off to the side. "You're overwhelmed right now. Rest."

Ah, shit. A monotone reply equals an upset Mikaela. You've gotten used to the open and vulnerable side of him so quickly that witnessing him closing even a bit feels off. 

"Hey," your voice is a petal-like brush on his ears. You climb on your knees and pull his face back to your eyes, hands clutching both cheeks. You make sure your gaze cradles him, hoping that it brings him the certainty you're trying to communicate. "I'll be fine. I'm not a suicidal maniac like Yuu. So just worry about him for now, okay?" 

Sighing, he drops his stare. For a moment, he looks really tired. "I can't not worry about you. You made me care too much."

You sit on your heels and chuckle. "Sorry about that."

Mikaela curves half a smile, though it appears somewhat heavy on his lips. "Don't apologize, silly." A short moment is spent looking quietly at each other. Then, with only an inch of distance between you, he leans in to rest his forehead on yours, red eyes closing upon contact. 

You ogle him through droopy lids, admiring the many details that have already become familiar. Details accessible only to you. 

He seems rather sad and worn out, which is quite the statement all things considered. You've never seen such human emotions be so recurrent on a vampire's face. It stirs a bit of guilt in your gut. 

You want to know about the thoughts tormenting him. You want to know every flaw and fear haunting him. You desire more than anything to be there for him. 

"Mikaela…" you whisper. 

He pries himself from your warmth to properly look at you. The emotions have disappeared, gone to hide in a locked vault once again. A calm expression washes over his face, devoiding him of any pain and agitation. "I'm going to see him,” he says. 

You figure he means Yuichiro by that. "How is he?" 

"Back to normal, but the humans decided to keep him chained for the time being. They said it’s a precaution.”

That's kind of sad. You can't imagine how someone as hyperactive as Yuichiro could fare chained up by magic talismans against a wall. 

"I'm coming with you."

"You should–" 

Rest? You shake your head, bearing a light-hearted smile for him to see. "I'm fine, really. I doubt I can sleep a second longer." You get up before he can think of another protest. "Let's go."

Mikaela stands after you. It would seem he doesn't have it in him to prolong the argument any longer and instead follows your path out the door and into the hallway. On the way there, he then says, "Yuu already knows he went berserk, but…" A pause builds up, like he's unsure of what or how to say the next part. A few seconds pass before he picks the sentence back up. "He's not aware of the damage he almost caused."

You have to stop your hand from instinctively reaching after your throat. "Oh."

He stops in front of the door located at the far edge of the second floor and turns to face you, volume dropped to lower levels. "You're in your right to tell him."

You shake your head. "No, it's fine. He would only blame himself for it."

With that said, Mikaela opens the door and steps aside to give you a clear path. 

The things inside have been pushed to the corners of the room, leaving a wide space in the center, where Yuichiro resides on a chair. You figure the bed, drawers and vanity would have been a hazard while he was in his demon form. 

Now, however, it's just idiot Yuu cracking a wide grin at you and Mikaela. His droopy eyes indicate he has just woken up. "Hey! What's up?" 

You hold back the urge of rolling your eyes, but a soft smile escapes the restraint, curving your lips up. "Hello, you idiot. What's up with you?" 

He chuckles. If his hands weren't held tight to the wall, you imagine he would have been scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, I heard that I caused a ruckus. Sorry I interrupted our training." 

You shrug in a nonchalant manner. "I was a total mess either way. Sucks that you have to stay here."

His bright spirit remains unhindered. "It's for precaution. I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone in my demon form."

You adjust the collar of your shirt to make sure it covers any wandering bruises he might have left behind. Your eyes connect with red irises. "Has it gotten any worse?" you ask Mikaela. 

"The time has increased by two minutes again." 

Shit. If that keeps up, it won't be long before he hits a full hour in demon form. "That can't be good," you say to Yuichiro. 

"It's not good," Mikaela's stern tone pulls your attention back to him. His stare has turned sharp, brows heavily pushed in. "It's really, really bad."

"Guys, guys, chill out." Yuichiro waves the two of you off with the little mobility he possesses. His expression remains carefree. "I'm fine, you see?" 

Mikaela cages a frustrated groan in his throat. "For now. But if this keeps up, you may become a full fledged demon sooner than we think."

"Well, if it means I get to protect my family…" 

You've heard that one before only a few hundred times.

Mikaela clicks his tongue, visibly about to lose it. "Seriously? Yuu–" 

You need to cut the tension before it squashes everyone in the room. "Don't bother, Mikaela." You look at Yuichiro and crack a grin. "I mean, surely you know who you're talking to. Wouldn't be surprised if I found an entire city clogging his ears. Barney probably dances in his head every day."

"Who's Bar–?" 

Mikaela sighs, ignoring him. "He's an idiot."

You nod. "He has made it a talent."

Red irises glint their amusement at you. "Yes. Naturally born with it."

The chains rattle as Yuichiro pulls forward. "Hey! Don't gang up on me, you two."

Now that the ambience has cleared up, you stop the teasing and turn around to look at the immature boy once again. "Well, since you'll be here for quite a while. We'll make you some company."

His movements flinch to a pause. "Oh, you don't have to do that."

It's your turn to wave him off. "Not a big deal. Oh, hey, I'll bring some table games. There's a fuck ton of them in the playroom."

Mikaela's eyes follow you on your way to the door. "I'm not sure he'll manage with his hands tied up like this."

You open the door and sneak a quick glance over your shoulder. "Nah, we'll figure something out." Then you’re out. 

No one's on the second floor. You hear distant chatter coming from downstairs. Did they even hear your crisis a few minutes ago? Surely, they must have, though you can't remember anyone ever barging into the commotion. As for Yuichiro, he probably slept through it with ease. 

You cross to the other side of the hallway and push open the door to the playroom. It's a wide space with mats, scattered toys, poufs, stocked shelves and a couple of trunks on the floor. 

You cross over to grab a chair and place it under one of the shelves holding boxes of what appears to be different board games. You climb on top and blow off a layer of dust. The rising particles draw out a cough from your lips. You hold your breath and grab the games, then jump back down to the floor with a deep inhale. 

Back at Yuichiro's room, you set down the tower of boxes in front of the chained boy and take a seat beside them. Mikaela stands a small distance away, leaning against the wall. 

You grab the first game and read its title. "Okay, so we have chess."

Before anything else can be added, Mikaela takes the word. "I doubt he will understand the basics."

Yuichiro throws a childish scowl in the vampire's direction. "Hey!"

You nod. "Point taken. Okay, next."

"Guys!"

"Jenga," you read the title on the rectangular box. 

Yuichiro forgets about the previous fight and acquires a curious look. "What's that about?" 

"We have to take blocks out and try not to knock the tower off, but Yuu has his hands tied so we'll have to skip it for now." You search the many boxes and come across an interesting pick. "Oh, we could play Charades." 

The silence following your proposition speaks enough in their place. It would appear the two boys have no idea of what you're talking about. You suppose you did have a bit of a childhood compared to them who were held in vampire captivity from a young age. 

You proceed to elaborate as you open the box, "We each get a word and have to act it out without saying what it is while the others try to guess. We're not allowed to talk at all. Yuu won't be able to do the acting part, but he can still participate."

As if taking up a challenge, Yuichiro's lips pull into a smirk. "Sounds easy. Okay, let's do it."

"Are you in, Mikaela?" 

"Fine," he answers from behind, not revealing a speck of anything in his answer. 

You take out the cards and the little hourglass. "Alright, I'll start. There seems to be about thirty seconds in this thing." 

There are two decks. Blue and red. One for simple words and the other for more challenging choices. Opting for something easy on your first round, you grab the first card from the blue pile. 

Snowball, it reads. 

You set the timer and jump to your feet, ready to act. First, you pretend to pick up snow from the ground. Then, you shape the air in your hand into a round form. 

"A ball," says Mikaela. 

"Soccer," adds Yuichiro, sounding sure of himself. 

Even though you aren't looking behind you, a feeling tells you Mikaela looks unimpressed by that answer. "No one plays soccer with their hands, Yuu."

"Baseball, then."

He drives his red eyes back to the front, watching you toss the imaginary ball across the room. "Snowball," he says. 

You shoot him a smile. "That's right. Mikaela gets the point. It's your turn now." You'd be lying if you said you weren't the least bit excited. He doesn't seem like the type to act and you're curious to see what he ends up doing. 

Mikaela steps forward and crouches to fetch a card from the blue pile. He reads it, then points his finger towards the ceiling, expression deadpan. His whole body remains still. 

"One!" exclaims Yuichiro.

"Finger," you say. "Index finger?"

"Hand!"

"Ceiling?" 

"Roof!" Yuichiro looks sure of his answer, but Mikaela doesn't give any indicator that the game has stopped. "The house?" His confusion matches yours. 

You try to analyze the gesture. Then again, there's only so much that can be said about a single outstretched finger. You grab your chin and hum in thought. "Up? The sky." Nothing. "The clouds?" 

"A plane!" 

You quirk up a brow at Yuichiro. "How is that a plane?" 

He shrugs. "I don't know. You said sky."

You don't hold back on rolling your eyes this time around. "Yeah, 'coz the sky is above us and he's pointing above us."

"A plane is also above us," he answers matter of factly, drawing a quiet scoff out of you. 

"Yeah, okay, but planes haven't flown around since 2012." You cut the discussion short once you remember the hourglass is still running with only a few seconds left. "We're wasting time. Come on, Mikaela. Give us another clue."

He drops his hand and thinks about it, but the last speck of sand falls down before he can do anything.

"What was the word?" you ask. 

"Sun." 

Sun… Why didn't you think of that? 

Yuichiro groans through an open mouth. "Are you serious, Mika?" As opposed to the usual interactions, Yuichiro now holds the disappointed expression while Mikaela stares back with innocent confusion. 

"What? How do you expect me to act out the sun?" 

The shackles produce an annoying sound as Yuichiro struggles in place. "There are so many things you could have done! Like pointing out your hair or something."

"How would that have helped?" 

"Because the sun is yellow, I don't know!" 

You cage your laughter behind a tranquil chuckle. Granted, it was primarily Mikaela's fault for not playing correctly, but you'll give him this round for the sole fact that he was adorable. "Maybe we should play something else." Peering down, you find a box you recognize from way back. "Oh, how about Monopoly?" 

Yuichiro visibly perks up, lips parted into a white grin. "I want to be the banker!" 

"No way," you cut through his request immediately. 

He deflates. "Why not?" 

"Because I'm always the banker, that's why." You crouch down to open the box. Hopefully, all of the pieces are inside. 

"What's Monopoly?" Mikaela asks as he crouches down beside you to inspect the box. The interest is notable. You finally got him hooked on something. 

Smiling, you explain, "We all start with a sum of money. The objective is to buy as many properties as we can and get rich. I'll explain as we go."

Just then, the door opens, revealing the only other two girls in the team. "What are you guys doing?" 

Perfect timing, as Monopoly is best enjoyed the more members are playing. "Hey, Shinoa, come join us. We're going to play Monopoly." 

Mitsuba's grumpy face gains a touch of curiosity. "Monopoly?" 

Shinoa bumps Mitsuba's shoulder with her elbow. "A game that’ll leave you poor, homeless and crying."

Yoichi appears next, followed closely by Kimizuki and Makoto. "Are you guys playing Monopoly?" 

You nod and invite them over with your hand. "Yup, come join us."

The entire team is present and you can't wait to hear their helpless cries of agony when they realize they have no choice but to become slaves to your empire. 

You just don't like losing. And you love winning. Especially when the losers are outward of their defeat. 

As you envision the sweet taste of victory, movement on your peripheral catches your attention. Mikaela is in the midst of getting up. "I think I'll just–" 

You snatch a hold of his hand to stop him in his tracks. Mikaela hates crowds, that much you understand, and usually, you'd let him be, but his presence is something you're desperately craving at the moment. Besides, he was quite curious about the game only a few seconds ago. "Come on Mikaela, don't go. It'll be fun. I won't charge you if you land on one of my properties, so please stay."

His posture softens, and after a couple of seconds in hopeful silence, a long sigh states his defeat. 

You grin and pull him back down. Mikaela abides and takes a seat beside you. The rest huddle around Yuichiro in a circle. Even Makoto, surprisingly. 

"I pick the dog!" announces Yuichiro. In that moment, however, Kimizuki stretches out his arm and picks that same piece for himself. Green eyes fire lasers at the boy at his side. "Hey, three eyes, I chose it first!" 

Kimizuki doesn't spare him a glance. "It’s a shame you have your hands shackled to the wall."

You grab the wheelbarrow and place it in front of Yuichiro. "Here, you can have the poop collector."

He directs a weak glare at you. "It's not a poop collector."

"It's official!" exclaims Shinoa in a taunting manner. "Yuu's the poop collector!"

"It's a cart!" 

Kimizuki pushes up his glasses. "Looks like a poop collector to me," he says, voice deadpan. 

"Mika, help me!" 

Two seconds pass. 

"It's a poop collector."

Chapter Text

Coming out of the van from a quick shopping trip to the nearest town –which is to say: located an hour away– you waste no time in sprinting inside the house to search for the only boy in the group with obnoxious pink hair. Fortunately, you don't have to look for him since he’s at the dining table finishing a granola bar with a scowl on his face as per usual.

“Hey, Shit-zuki!”

His eyes follow the sound of your voice, cracked lens visible on his left side. “What now?” he grumbles between mouthfuls of food. 

You raise your arm and show him the glasses you found in an optician’s shop. About twenty minutes must have gone by before you finally found a pair you thought resembled his current glasses the most. 

“Check this out!” you exclaim merrily. Now that you’re able to look and compare both sets with your own eyes, you feel extremely satisfied with your choice. They’re practically identical save for minor details. “Pretty much the same, huh?”

He takes them without adding anything. A moment passes while he examines them from all angles and, eventually, he says, “These are more rectangular.”

You huff out a laugh. “Okay, but–”

“And the color is lighter.” He takes his current glasses off to compare and scrutinize with better judgement.

Now you’re sure he’s messing with you. Still, you take the liberty of stomping the floor. “Oh, come on!” you exclaim in a child-like manner. 

“And I doubt you know my eye measurement.”

Aha! But you came prepared, as revealed by the smug crook your lips make. “I don’t. That’s why I took home all of the lenses in the store.” Amidst your excitement, you forgot to bring them out of the van with you. It’s a grocery bag stocked-full of rectangular pieces of glass. Finding the correct one is bound to be a pain, sure, but there’s only so much you can do. 

“You’re unbelievable,” he grunts, sounding ungrateful, much to your dismay. “Why did you even do this?”

“Because your glasses are broken?” What kind of question is that? You bet he can’t even see properly. How was he planning to partake in battles like that? His persistence is draining the energy out of you. “Ah, come on. Don’t be such a pain in the ass!”

His lips tug up into a smirk.“You felt guilty, didn’t you?” 

The curses you were about to bestow on him die on your tongue. Shock paralyzes you on the spot. And it’s not that you weren’t already aware of your guilt. Neither did you think the idea hadn’t already crossed his head. But you weren’t expecting him to be up front about it.

The edges of his mouth loosen up, transforming the smirk into a genuine smile you hadn't seen on him before. “You didn’t have to, but thank you.” 

This has got to be the weirdest exchange you’ve had in a while. You like Kimizuki nowadays, but some interactions are just not meant to exist. “You’re welcome,” you grumble, looking elsewhere to avoid the sight of his face. “...I guess.” 

He leaves his chair with the intent of departing to another section in the house, but you stop him before he can take his next step. “Oh, hey, before you leave.” Your added comment sparks genuine curiosity in his gaze. “Sir three-eyes.” You use your outstretched hand as a sword, touching each of his shoulders with it. “I officially promote you to Duke four-eyes.” 

He clicks his tongue. “What a way to ruin the moment.” He wastes no time turning around, ready to leave, and instead nearly crashes head-first with green eyes and a head of black strands.  

Yuichiro, who appears to have heard everything, bows down with added dramatic effect. His hand spirals downwards, signaling to Kimizuki. “Your highness.”

He hits his skull with the back of his hand. “It’s your grace, you moron.” He finally manages to escape the dining room on his third attempt, leaving you alone with Yuichiro, whose intent to say something is interrupted when he stumbles on his feet. 

“Woah.” You dart forward on instinct, but he catches himself in time. “You alright?”

Chuckling, he rubs the back of his head. “Yeah, just a bit of blood loss. I was wondering if there’s anything I could eat? Heard you’re in charge of dinner today.”

Blood loss… There can only be a single cause to the outcome and that’s Mikaela. You know quite well how aggravating the aftereffects can be, especially as you try your best to hide it for the sake of not worrying the vampire. You’re almost certain Yuichiro does, too. 

“We still have a lot of fish,” you say. “I could spare you an extra one for the occasion.” 

He outstretches his fist in your direction to poke out his thumb, eyes closed above a broad grin. “Sweet. Thanks a ton.” 

“So…” you add right after, only to end up regretting it in the next second. As a result, you’re forced to endure Yuichiro’s ogling while you think of a way to phrase your thoughts. “How was it?”

The sideway tilt of his head displays genuine confusion. “How was what?”

“You know…” Silly you to say that, of course he doesn’t know. That’s why he asked. You have to force the next words out of your mouth. “Mikaela drinking...you know.”

“Oh, my blood?” he answers like it isn’t a big deal. “Normal, I guess? It wasn’t the first time. I’m sure you know what it feels like.” 

You drag your index finger across the surface of the table, choosing to focus on it. “Well, yeah. I was just wondering if it’s different for every human.” The murmur is stuck between your lips, giving little to no form to your words. 

Fortunately, it seems Yuichiro gets it. “Oh, I don’t think so? I mean, you just get your blood sucked. It hurts at first, then it gets kinda good, then it’s done and you’re left starving like crazy.” 

How can he just say that? Already knowing what happens between them behind closed doors doesn’t mean you were ready to hear it fresh out of his mouth. You won’t deny the part of you that’s jealous of Yuichiro for getting to feel something, anything, from Mikaela, but that doesn’t mean you’re any less ashamed of it. 

“Isn’t it like…” You puff your cheeks with the words stuck inside and push out a loaded breath.  “A bit awkward?”

“Hah?” With his hands on his waist, he ponders to the ceiling for a second, then takes his eyes back to yours. “Not really. I’m helping Mika, after all. Is it embarrassing to you?”

“...no.” And that’s a fat lie.

His smile widens into a toothy grin. “Then you understand!” he says, swatting your back with playful pats. 

You wonder if it’s really as he says. He could be putting up a front. Then again, you don’t think Yuichiro is capable of lying. At least not properly. 

A long yawn pries his mouth wide open. “Not to be mean or anything, but do you think I could get that fish soon? I don’t think I’ll make it till dinner alive.”

“Yeah, sure.” You need to distract your mind either way. “Is Mikaela doing alright then?”

“Well, he just punched me hard on the shoulder so I think he’s more than just alright.” 

“What did you do this time?”

Yuichiro follows you on your way to the kitchen. “Nothing bad, seriously! I was just teasing a bit and he didn’t like me touching his ears.”

You stop in your tracks to look at him past your shoulder, a curious brow raised over your eye. “His ears?”

He chuckles at some memory currently taking over his thoughts. “I know, right? You wouldn’t believe he has them underneath all that hair.” 

It’s not that you thought he didn’t have them. The idea just never crossed your mind before. Now you’re filled with the sudden urge of reaching out after his hair to lift the troublesome strands off his ears. 

You suppress your emotions behind the purse of your lips. “Are they pointed like a vampire’s?”

“I didn’t get to see since he punched me off of him,” he huffs with his knuckles planted on his sides. “But I’m guessing they are.” 

You crouch down to open the drawers below the counter, taking out a pan and other kitchen gadgets. “So he doesn’t like to show his ears.” You imagine a bashful Mikaela with his hands on either side of his head, scurrying away from Yuichiro in a frenzy. The mental image draws a chuckle out of you. “How cute.”

“Cute until he punches you.”

You roll your eyes, though a smile curves your lips all the way up. “Oh, get over it.”

Yuichiro leans on the counter right beside you, apparently unaware he’s in your way. “He didn’t go easy on me with his vampire strength.” 

You get back on your feet and shove him off with your shoulder, making your statement twice as clear by placing the kitchen items on the counter where he previously resided against. “Will you let me cook in peace or are you going to spit over the food with your yapping?” 

He hums. “I do feel like I need a nap, actually.”

“Good–”

“But I should probably train.” He smacks a fisted hand over his open palm, as if a genius idea struck him. You can almost envision a lightbulb turning on over his head. “Hey, I’ll ask Mika to help!” 

He exits the kitchen without adding anything else, taking with him all of the energy and life that existed in the room.

Your smile has yet to drop as you shake your head. “Seriously, what a goof…” you murmur to yourself. 

Looking back at the mess you’ve already made on the counter, you start second guessing your previous plans. Going out, starting a fire and putting everything outside for one fish, then cleaning everything up, only to make a repetition of the process all over again two hours later for dinner will be one hell of a nuisance. 

You snort to yourself. What were you even thinking? It’s better if you cook everything in one go. Surely, the team won’t mind eating a little before sundown. You can just shift the blame over to Yuichiro if Kimizuki happens to bitch about it like he tends to do about every little detail. 

Besides, fileting fish is bound to take you a while. Starting ahead isn’t really going to add much difference to the time of completion.

You take out the cutting board, grab the fish, and begin the knife work. Despite the injury on your dominant hand, your skills and flexibility with it are surprisingly good, or so everyone says to coax you into fileting the meals everyday. If you hadn’t chosen Karkodan as your weapon, you might have fared just fine with a pair of knives by your side. 

You think a pair of knives can outperform me? 

You crack a smile. Oh, there you are, big fella. It’s been a while. 

Karkodan huffs a sound that states his displeasure. You haven’t practiced since that last time, which, needless to be said, was utterly pathetic.

Too busy being a housewife, sadly.

Don’t act like you don’t like it.

You chuckle. Hell yeah, I totally do. 

You’ve gotten too soft. He’s not even complaining. Rather, stating a simple fact. It seems like he has officially resigned to the idea of not possessing you. 

That’s character development for you, you reply in your head. 

“Hey,” a voice you recognize right away pulls you out of your thoughts. You spin around and come into visual contact with red eyes.

The grin that forms on your face is practically instinctual. “Oh, hey. I figured you’d be training with Yuichiro.” 

His brows knit together, head tilting to the side in that cute manner you love so much. “Training? He passed out in his room a while ago.”

You expel a breath through your nose. “Of course he did...that idiot,” you chuckle quietly while shaking your head, turning back towards the counter to continue your task, or else you won’t be done by the time dinner comes around. 

The knife against the board is the only sound filling the room. You’re rather comfortable dwelling in it, but you’re also aware Mikaela might have something stuck in his mind. Instead of prodding for answers, though, you wait.

Eventually, he says,“I think…I took too much.” 

When you sneak a glance behind your shoulder, you find Mikaela with his eyes drawn to the floor. The guilt is an all too familiar look on his face. 

“One full meal and he’ll be as good as new.” You keep the sound of your voice carefree in an attempt to take some weight off the situation. “I saw him earlier and he didn’t mind at all. You know he cares about you a lot, so helping you is never a burden.” You pause for a bit, then add, “Same for me.”

“I didn’t have to drink that much,” he drowns on his concerns instead of listening to your words. The tension is stark on his features. “I could have stopped sooner, but I didn’t.” 

You drop the knife and grab a rag to clean your hands. “Mikaela, I can bet my entire month worth of rations that you’ve never , not once, drank to full satiety.”

“If I did, both of you would likely die,” he answers, deadpan. 

“That’s not even my point.” You shift around, leaning the small of your back against the counter, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m just saying you didn’t overindulge on Yuu. You drank enough to remain sane as you always do.”

You’ve had this same talk numerous times already and Mikaela still comes back to the same worries every time. You don’t mind repeating yourself. You’ll do it as many times as he needs, but it saddens you that he has to live with these feelings on a daily basis. 

Mikaela pushes a quiet sigh. “I didn’t...want to stop.”

You feel those words like a punch in the gut, and for absolutely no coherent reason whatsoever. The foolish side of you actually thought Mikaela only felt that way around you, with just your blood. It’s a selfish desire. It’s not even about loyalty. He physically can’t help it. 

You know you’re overreacting. You know it in your heart and still, a poisonous pang stirs your gut out of place. 

“So…” you swallow, and because of the saliva scratching your throat, you realize you haven’t done so in a while. “Did he tell you to stop?”

Mikaela doesn’t appear to notice the changes in your demeanor. His chest expands and recedes with a huff. “Yuu never tells me anything. That’s what frustrates me. I never know if I’ve taken too much.”

“I mean, he’s part demon now, right?” You’re being awkward, you can tell. You can’t even bring yourself to lock with his eyes, opting instead for a random spot on his arm. “I doubt a little blood loss can kill him.”

“I guess.”

The room falls silent and you don’t know whether Mikaela has noticed that something is indeed out of place. You nibble on your lower lip, making small sounds as you pucker your lips in different directions, gaze darting across the room with no purpose in particular. 

Then before your thoughts can pass through a filter, you end up spluttering, “Did you enjoy it?”

He’s taken aback, though tries not to show it. The moment he takes to reply speaks enough in his place, though. “That’s a bit hard to answer.”

Right, right. He’s right. God, you’re so selfish. He’s a vampire, for fucks sake.

“Well, does he enjoy it?” And yet you can’t stop yourself from sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.

Mikaela is rightfully confused. Red eyes study every aspect of your face, searching for hints in your expression. “It’s part of the process, you already know that.” He takes a tentative step forward and halts when you snap your spine completely straight against the counter, like he was an inspector about to judge your work in the kitchen. Mikaela knits his brows together, making a worried frown. “I feel like you have something in your mind.”

You shake your head, humming your denial. “No, it’s nothing. I’m just being silly.”

He strides forward. “You can be silly in front of me.” He sounds so genuine, so loving, so innocent. It’s easy to get lost in his eyes once he’s closer, at less than an arm’s reach. There’s fondness in his stare, growing stronger the longer he spends admiring every detail on your face. He has already done this many times over and his expression is never a speck short of devoted. 

The muscles across your body weaken under his pinning gaze. He could drag the thoughts out of you with a few touches and words, but you’ll stand your ground until the bitter end. “It’s really not worth it. Just let it go.”

“But it seems like it matters to you.”

“For all the wrong reasons.” You clamp your mouth shut and shake off the haziness induced by his charms. Your tone and posture regain significant steadiness when you add, “Seriously, Mikaela, I’m just being selfish. I need to get these fish cooked or I’ll never hear the end of it from Yuu.” You walk past him, wanting to get to the other side of the kitchen. There’s nothing you require over there, but a breather is desperately needed.

“Okay, then I’ll be selfish first.” In a flash, Mikaela dashes in front of you and blocks your path. “You’ve been calling him ‘Yuu’ a lot more often now.”

What the fuck? That’s so random. 

You shrug a small movement with your shoulders. “Everyone calls him that so it kind of stuck.” After a tentative pause, you ask, head tilting to the side, “Does that bother you?”

“No.” Mikaela is completely blunt and unabashed about his answer. His glinting eyes keep a steady hold over yours. “I only care about what you call me.”

“What I call you?” Then it clicks, and you jolt with newfound realization. “Wait. You don’t mean…” 

Nothing moves or twitches on Mikaela’s expression. He’s dead serious about this. 

Your jaw practically drops open. “Holy shit, you do.” The smile stretching your lips is almost a bit painful. It isn’t long before your lungs push out a cackle you don’t even bother to hide behind your hands or tone down in the slightest.

“Stop laughing.” 

You’re almost sure he’s pouting. The pucker is barely there, but on Mikaela, the slightests of changes make quite the difference on his face. His eyes, as per usual, communicate the most, replacing the words he won’t let past his lips. 

Right now, they seem far from amused. The flecks of red and gold quiver with uncertainty.

“I’m sorry, Mikaela.” 

You say that, yet the laughter doesn’t subside. He reminds you of a child being denied play-time by his parents. 

“No, you’re not,” he grunts. 

“No, really. I am.” You draw in a breath. “I mean it, Mikaela.”

His eyes narrow a bit in response, clearly rejecting your teasing. “Now you’re doing it on purpose.”

You feign confusion. “What are you even talking about, Mikaela?” 

He groans a low sound inside his throat, glancing away. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Another cackle escapes you. “No, but I’m glad you did, though, Mika–” His hand seals your mouth shut before you can finish the last bit of his name. 

“Close enough,” he utters, though the look of approval in his eyes reveals he enjoyed hearing the sound despite the circumstances. 

You drag his hand down. You’re so excited you wouldn’t be surprised if Mikaela saw sparkles in your eyes. “So this is about that,” you boast victoriously. 

He scrunches his face into a half-hearted scowl. “Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

You shrug, finally done with your show of laughter. “I find it cute, is all. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get jealous.” 

He flinches to a complete halt, eyes a bit widened with realization. “I...jealous?”

You playfully pat his chest. The muscles there are decently sturdy. “Ah, come on. Don’t tell me you aren’t.” Your pitch is bright and much louder than usual. Happiness brims out of you in waves. 

“I’m...yeah.” He’s surprisingly straightforward and it catches you off guard. “I’m jealous. I’m really jealous.” 

It could be that he’s unaccustomed to feeling things in general, but jealous people aren’t usually so assertive about emotions that are considered flaws. 

You would be charmed if he wasn’t cornering you against the counter with his new-found voice and intensity. He has rendered you speechless. 

“Say it.” The previous petition has become a demand. “Call me Mika.”

You break out of your stupor and push lightly against his chest. “Holy shit, wow, okay. I’ll admit you caught me off guard there.” A subtle grin parts your lips. After a couple of tantalizing seconds, you add, “Mikaela.”

“Stop playing.”

“But that’s your name, isn’t it, Mikaela?” 

He walks forward until your hands are the only barrier preventing your chests from touching. “I’m not letting you go until you say it at least once.” His eyes are stern. He isn’t taking the challenge lightly.

But neither are you.

“Well, then, I guess we’ll be here all night,” you comment casually. 

“Fine by me. Vampires don’t sleep.”

“Neither do people with insomnia, Mikaela.” 

He groans again, except this time, a bit of sound seeps through his teeth. “Now you’re just pulling my leg.”

You hold both sides of his face in your hands, neglecting the slight prickle of your injury in favor of relishing the emotions he’s allowing himself to show in front of you alone. “Oh, stop brooding, Mika.” You then drag your mouth to his ear “...ela.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Without wasting a second, he pushes you back from the waist and corners you from behind with the counter. Up front, he locks his arms around you and squeezes with playful intent. 

You break out into another fit of laughter, wallowing in the sensations he has to offer; his hands on your back, his breaths on your shoulder, the absence of distance. This entire fragment of a moment has been a joy to live. 

“Okay, you win, Mika,” you say as the spasms in your chest are reduced to chuckles. You lean back in search of his gorgeous eyes. Flecks of gold and red dance freely around his pupils. “I just love your name a whole lot.”

He blinks, actually confused by your statement. “You know it’s a girl’s name.”

“So what? It’s your name.” You reel back in to lay your ear on his chest. There’s no heartbeat thumping with excitement in there, but he feels so alive nonetheless. You snuggle closer, having an overwhelming amount of fondness for him. “I’m happy you told me. Really happy.”

“You can be selfish in front of me, too.”

You’re pulled back from your perfect, little cloud, evident in the way your muscles tense. “Oh, that. Uh…” You draw back, this time avoiding his eyes. 

“It can’t be worse than what I told you.” 

Nervousness pushes a chuckle out of you. “I don’t know about that.” 

His eyes on you are intent. Just like with the nickname fiasco, he’s not about to let up on this matter. 

You sigh to state defeat. “Well, it’s just that…” Instantly, though, you backtrack. “Okay, it’s actually really stupid.”

He rolls his eyes. “Just say it already.”

“It’s the pleasure, okay?” you utter before your brain can advise you against it. “I’m sure you and Yuichiro feel it whenever you drink and…” Oh, God. Spoken out loud, it sounds twice as stupid. 

“You’re jealous,” he says like it was only the obvious.

You can only click your tongue because he’s exactly right. The only reason you’re not sinking is shame can be attributed to his earlier openness. “Yes, I’m jealous. Happy?” You sigh, energy dropping to lower levels. “But I know it’s stupid. I can’t give you blood every time and it’s never easy for you to begin with. This isn’t even about me.”

There’s a pause in which Mikaela appears to think.

“I only drink from his wrist,” he declares. “It’s less personal that way, right?”

You blink your briefly widened eyes. “You’ve been doing that? Since when?”

“Can’t remember,” he grumbles while steering his gaze past your head, back to being his bashful self. 

You hum. “Seems to me like you do.”

With a quiet sigh, he’s quick to give up. “Since that first kiss,” he answers fast as if to get it over with. His pupils dart back to meet yours. “Have your worries eased?”

Tingles bloom in your chest. Your warm cheeks pull up with elation. “Yeah,” you breathe. “I was being overdramatic.”

His gaze softens. “I’m glad you told me.”

For a moment, nothing else matters besides him, you and the little bubble sealing you away from the world. You can tell from a simple look how much he treasures you. There’s no need for him to say anything. It’s just there, spoken with every touch, every kiss, every glance. 

You like him so much. He’s perfect. So perfectly imperfect. 

“Hey, Mika.” Before he can answer your call, you bring your hands up to caress the sides of his head. Your fingers linger over his locks and ever so subtly sneak under the curtains of blond hair to come into direct contact with the skin of his ears. Your bandaged hand doesn’t get to feel much, but your other one compensates with more than enough. 

Needless to be said, he’s confused, but in view of the fact he has yet to draw back, you’ll consider this a win. “What are you doing?” he asks.

Slowly, you trace the outline of his ears, coming to a stop at the tip, which are sharp and pointed like that of a vampire’s.

You hum with self-satisfaction. “Oh, just being selfish one more time.”

Chapter Text

Shinoa's giggling fills you with curiosity. You've been hearing the two girls talking gibberish for a while and you’ve finally decided to pay them a quick visit at the master’s bedroom. 

The place is wide enough to hold a king size bed, a vanity on the far end of the wall, multiple drawers, two closets on different sections of the room, and still have enough space for a small couch with a t.v plasma up front. For a house in the middle of nowhere, whoever lived here had more commodities than the average citizen. 

A movie is playing on the cracked screen. Despite the giant blotch of black color on the right corner, the images are still discernible. 

Shinoa whips her head around upon noticing your arrival and cracks a wide grin. "Hey! Come join us! We're just getting to the good part."

Taking another look at the screen, you find a woman and a man having some kind of deep conversation, faces inches apart, like only doubt was keeping them from kissing. The bits of dialogues you hear sound extremely corny. 

"How did you get the t.v to work?" you ask instead. 

"We just plugged it in. Found some CD's and inserted one into the DVD player," she replies. 

Mistuba crosses her arms and grumbles, "If only she had picked a better movie." Nevertheless, her eyes are glued to the screen, brows drawn together with concentration. 

Shinoa flashes a knowing smile, but keeps the remarks to herself and looks at you again. "So are you joining us?" 

You turn your gaze to the screen.

"My heart, my soul, my entire being belongs to you alone, Sabine," the male actor, who appears to be European, whispers to the woman with his husky voice, grabbing her face from the chin in between his gloved fingers. His whole attire gives him the appearance of a detective. 

You snort. "Nah, I'm good."

"Ah, come on. Don't be ashamed of embracing your feminine side. Look at Mitsuba." 

"I don't know what you're talking about," she grunts, still watching the screen. 

Your chest huffs with a chuckle. "You girls enjoy yourselves. I have to collect the washed uniforms, anyway."

"Suit yourself." Shinoa turns back to the t.v. with a frozen smile on her face. 

You cross the room to go down the staircase leading to the dining area. No one appears to be on the first floor. The boys are probably sandwiched in one room together. 

Right beside the old piano that's under the staircase, resides a glass door to the patio. Outside, clothes and sheets hang from a metal thread, just about finished drying. 

You slide the door open and step into the cool breeze of a cloudy afternoon. Fortunately, the clothes had been washed and set to dry in the morning when it was still sunny. 

You take the basket from the floor and walk over to commence the deed. The Black Demon Army uniforms are clean from the grime and blood induced during the battle with Ferid. Some of them have tiny holes that need to be stitched up. Specifically, Yuichiro's attire above all else. 

You take the first pair of pants and fold them. The size of them immediately tells you they must belong to Kimizuki. Once they're down to the shape of a perfect square, you toss them into the basket. 

A soft breeze rushes past your face, cooling your skin. It flutters the bed sheets as well, and as they fold in different directions, you're allowed a glimpse of Mikaela standing at the entrance. 

"Oh." You tilt sideways in order to confirm a second time it's him and not your imagination. Once again, you lock stares with flecks of gold and fire in his beautiful eyes. "Mika," through a smile, you say his name, ecstatic about seeing him. His presence never fails to make your heart flutter. You pull another uniform from the metal thread and start to fold it. "Need anything?" 

He's already only a few paces away by the time you place the clothes in the basket. When you turn back up, expecting to find him within a talking-distance, you flinch to a stop midway into the action on account of Mikaela standing a breath away from you. His lips are briefly parted open, showing a clear intent to speak, but your light yelp interrupts the words from taking shape. 

Before you can trip backwards, the pressure of his hand on your forearm balances you back to your feet with a single tug. "Woah," you say through breathy laughs. "You caught me off guard there."

The fiery resolve in his eyes melts away, replaced instead with a look of bashfulness he directs to the floor. "Sorry."

Of course you catch the shift in his attitude. Even though it wouldn't be noticeable to the eyes of many, you've seen enough of Mikaela up close to realize his usual composure is partially disturbed. "Is there something you want to tell me?" 

He takes his stare back to yours, albeit guarded behind new walls that could crack with a measly push. "I just…" He appears to be restructuring his thoughts in the time he uses for a pause. "...wanted to see you."

Charming, and you will admit warmth blooms in both your chest and cheeks, but you know better than to think that's all there is to this visit. The suppressed arch on the side of your lips lets him know that you find his strange behavior amusing. "Is that really all, though? It seemed like you wanted to tell me something."

His fingers press into the flesh of your arm, which he has yet to release. The muscles on his jaw shift with slight movement, an indicator he has clenched his teeth. 

Your lips tug further up, openly smug about your intuition. "So there is something. Out with it already."

"I…" He expels a breath through his nose, showing resistance. "I could be getting the wrong idea."

With your good hand, you brush a stray curl away from his eyes and hum a lighthearted sound. "Don't care. Tell me."

"It might sound weird, but…" 

Humming again, you prolong the last, "But…?" Your hand keeps venturing through his messy locks of hair, feeling their smooth and soft texture under your fingertips. You doubt he uses conditioner, but one would think he dips his head in a barrel on a daily basis. 

Mikaela appears to be too preoccupied with his jumble of thoughts to offer any reaction that could tell you he likes the treatment your hand is giving him. "The two human girls–" 

"Shinoa and Mitsuba," you interrupt, maintaining a soft tone all the while. It has been close to three months and you can't believe he still refuses to call them by their respective names. 

He ignores the input. "They were watching a movie," he says instead. 

"Yeah, I saw." Must have been an old romantic movie. What is he on about? You didn't think he would ever be remotely interested in that kind of thing. 

The silence between you prolongs. Mikaela scavenges for the proper words while you wait with your gaze on his. Whatever it is appears to be stirring conflicting feelings in him. 

Eventually, he draws a sharp breath and says, "There were two humans kissing."

You furrow your brows in curiosity. "Okay?" 

"And it was…" He pauses to look away, but the hand you situate on his chest takes his attention back to your face. You urge him on with a brief nod. "It was a lot different to how we do it." 

You flinch to a complete halt, eyes a tad wider, mouth loosely parted. "Oh," is no more than a faint, choked-up sound. You take your gaze downwards, suddenly conscious of the proximity in between your chests. "You mean like making out?" 

He tilts his head a little to the side, genuine wonderment plastered in his eyes. "Is that what it's called?"

This guy…. There's no way he's this ingenuous. 

You click your tongue, hand dropping from his pectoral to cross with your other arm on your chest. "Seriously, Mikaela? You're telling me you had no idea humans kiss with tongue? Didn't you ever see teens doing it at the park?" 

His eyes scream the embarrassment he won't allow himself to show on his face. He flips his stare in different directions across the patio before settling back on you. "I was kind of a stupid kid."

You seriously doubt that. Maybe he was too pure and giving for this world, and the constant cold shoulder he was given amounted to the Mikaela you have today. 

Even so, you wouldn't change him for the world. The boy he once was can still be spotted in those little moments he will sometimes allow himself to have, like with the table games, or the playful teasing you give each other. 

"I wasn't allowed to leave the vampire city until the queen started trusting me, which took a while," he says. "and vampires, well, they don't partake in such displays. It's not something our bodies ask for."

And yet he kisses you when you ask for it. He pours time and himself into it, too. You can't help the tickle of guilt in your stomach. On someone who doesn't feel anything from a kiss, the action is likely reduced to a mere exchange of saliva. 

You look down. "I see," is a murmur stuck between your lips. 

It doesn't take long for the insecurity to reign supreme over your thoughts. Have you been demanding without realizing it? Have you asked for too many kisses? How many times have you done it already? Like three? Is that too much? 

He's definitely feeling pressured because of you. Why else would he be triggered by a scripted scene between two actors? He's concerned you'll start demanding more from him, which would explain why he was so nervous coming to you.

God, you feel terrible. The fact that he's a vampire with no sexual urges has flown past you all this time. It was way too easy to submerge yourself in the fantasy of being a normal couple. The truth, however, is that you aren't. Not even an official couple. You're just living the present and taking every moment life has to offer to you. 

"Do humans do that regularly?" Mikaela's voice pulls you out of your mind. When you tilt your head up after his face, you see an expression that can't be read. 'Neutral' would be the best word to describe how he looks, making it much harder on you to guess what he's thinking. Is he concerned? Disgusted? Curious? 

You choose to keep your answer the most factual possible. "Most do, but it's not a rule all couples must follow. That's the thing about relationships. They're all individual and different."

“Is it supposed to feel good?"

The saliva you swallow practically announces to him how nervous you are. Talking so openly about this with him doesn't make you want to kiss him any less. "Depends on different factors," you struggle to say without choking on the words. 

Your first attempt at adding some subtle distance fails as Mikaela strides forward to reduce it again. "What factors?" His tone is carefully quiet, eyes open and intent. 

The tickles in your stomach have multiplied into a swarm of butterflies flapping their razor-sharp wings in all directions. Your eyes find his mouth before blinking back to his eyes the following second. 

Mikaela surely catches it. 

"Uh." You absentmindedly wet your lips with the tip of your tongue. "Like…who the person is and how much you enjoy being with them. How comfortable and safe you feel with that person."

Mikaela holds your gaze with his own, determined to not let you go. He trails light touches on your arm with his fingertips and eventually circles a sturdy grip around your arm. "Have you thought about doing it with me?" 

Holy shit, you're about to fucking combust. 

You have to forcefully pull the words from your throat in order to say, "No." But you bite it back after a single glimpse at the quirked brow on his face and instead stutter out, "I mean, it's not that important to me, is what I'm saying. We don't have to kiss all of the time, much less make out. I like being around you. Besides, there's no point to it if only one of us enjoys it." You didn't mean to sound discouraged on that last part and realize the mistake a bit late. "I-I mean! It's not a big deal. Seriously. Actually, now that I think about it, it's stupid. Why do humans even kiss? It's literally just swapping germs and–" 

His thumb on your cheek makes you inhale the last of your ramble. The other fingers anchor around your neck to tilt your head in his direction. His palm is cool to the touch, adding emphasis to the heated skin dressing you whole. "It's okay," he says, his tone low, as if sharing a secret meant only for your ears. "You can be selfish around me." After a pause, he adds, "I want you to."

You can hear your heart in your chest and the breaths coming out of your nose. "But…" You swallow again. "You won't feel anything."

"I will," he whispers back, calm breaths fanning your face as he draws near. The grip he has on both your arm and face pulls you along until there's only a thread of space between your mouths. His red eyes glint under the sunset with what you'd like to believe is equal parts curiosity and excitement. Slowly, another breath parts his lips open. "Teach me."

Since you don't make a single movement, Mikaela takes charge in sealing the gap first. He presses himself to your mouth and gives it tender brushes with his own. It isn’t too long before you drown in the feeling and respond to his advances. 

It is then that Mikaela surrenders to your judgement and lets himself be guided. 

You close your eyes and offer him your parted mouth. Without even venturing past his teeth, you start feeling the dampness of his lips on yours. Your heart soars all the way up to your throat. You curve a smile and kiss him deeper while maintaining the gentle tempo taking him through the motion. 

His movements are clumsy, clearly inexperienced as he dutifully mimics your lessons. Still, you’re eating up everything he has to offer like it was your only source of water in an endless desert. You aren’t exactly worthy of giving a masterclass either, but knowing it’s Mikaela, that he wants to do this with you; knowing how far you’ve come since that first night you interacted, makes this moment one of a kind and there's absolutely nothing you'd want different. 

You keep your arms useless at your sides. Your focus is on his wet lips, the scent of forest trees and something metallic emanating from being so close to him, his lashes on your cheeks, his locks of hair on your forehead, his cool hands on you. 

However, the steadiness of his breaths and the absence of a racing heartbeat keeps you mindful of what makes him different. He’s a vampire, and regardless of the intentions he started kissing you with, you don't want Mikaela pushing himself through it for your sake. 

So you muster enough determination to pull back a miserable inch, and of everything you were expecting to find on his face, drunken stupor in his half-lidded eyes wasn't one of them. 

"Your scent," he whispers. "...and your taste. It’s all over me.” He leans in to catch your lips a second time, his own mouth purposeful in delivering stroke after stroke, just as you did before.

Well, shit. There goes the last of your restraint. 

Your hands shoot up to cling to his hair. Not giving a single damn about the prickles caused by the injury on your dominant hand, you grip tight like you’d melt into the floor without him as your anchor. 

You glue your mouths together, bodies following suit, and you kiss him hard. Your tongue finally pushes past his teeth with a relieved whine breaking apart in your throat. You twist your head to the side for better access and explore every single corner inside, searing your taste on his tongue. Your licks are deep and sensual to the core. You trail your hands down to grip the hairs on his neck, then reel him in further until there’s not a trace of space left between you. 

You touch, kiss and suckle with the intent of conquering. His tongue is much slower and doesn’t get anywhere past his lips, mostly because your desperation doesn’t give him any chance to give back. You mark a path across his teeth, stopping on his sharp canines to get a proper feel of them.

“W-wait,” he murmurs into your mouth, hands dragging you back a couple of steps from the waist. 

You break out of the trance and jolt away, mortified beyond recognition. “Shit, sorry! I…” You cling to your hair and growl. “God, I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry. That was too much, I know.”

Were you making sounds? You can’t remember that either. Holy shit. You want to be buried on the spot. 

Mikaela drags your arms down, expression soft on his face. “It’s not that. I just don’t want you getting injured because of my fangs. I don’t know how I’d react with your blood in my mouth.”

“Oh...right.” Damn, you feel utterly stupid. “Yeah, I got it. Slow and steady then.” Despite his calm attitude, you have the urgent need of looking elsewhere but his eyes.

Is it bad you want to continue kissing him until your mouth falls off? You don’t even know how much of it Mikaela was genuinely enjoying. Sure, he likes your scent and apparently your taste, too. But there’s only so much you can take before your body starts...reacting in certain ways you doubt Mikaela will be able to follow. 

Your face is burning. How much of that can Mikaela see? 

He tilts your chin up with two fingers. “My body is different from a human’s. I can’t experience the same things you do, but watching, hearing and feeling your reactions is my own kind of pleasure.” 

This man. He’ll be the end of you. 

You'd let him run you over with the van if he asked. Your feelings are at his mercy, but neither are you concerned about that because you trust him with your life. You're utterly and hopelessly devoted to him.

Mikaela watches you with a similar kind of admiration, droopy eyes of red color hazed with emotion. With his free hand, he grabs the back of your neck and reels you in again. His lips part with the intent to welcome you in. You let yourself be guided to him, arms looping around his waist. 

"Guys!" You recognize Yoichi's breathless and unstable voice coming from inside the house. "We have a huge problem right now!" 

You and Mikaela stop midway into the action, head turning towards the house. The washed sheets still flow around with the wind. They've been providing an excellent cover this whole time. 

Together, you walk around the garments hanging from the metal thread to get a clear view of the entrance into the house. Past the glass door, you catch Yoichi swinging his arms around as he explains the situation to Shinoa. His green eyes are widened with worry, looking like he hasn't gotten a wink of sleep in a while when in fact he just came out of rest day. 

Mikaela strides to the door and slides it open. "What happened?" 

You stand behind him, senses perked with alarm. 

"Yoichi spotted vampire choppers nearby. They've found us," answers Shinoa. Her expression is stern and serious, the leader in her awakened once again after many days off-duty. "Are the uniforms dry?" she asks you. 

You nod. "Yeah, I was getting to them."

"Hey, what's going on?" asks Yuichiro as he comes down the stairs on the side of the dining room, followed by Kimizuki, Makoto and Mitsuba. Yoichi's loud voice must have disrupted them as well. 

Shinoa looks at them, eyes glinting with stress. "Vacation's over, you guys. Suit up and only take the essentials. We're leaving right now."

You knew it was bound to happen at some point, but the reality has come down on you like a heartless slap on the face. 

The dream is over. You're soldiers on the run yet again. 

Chapter Text

“Makoto!” Shinoa tosses the keys to him as she rounds the van to hop on the front passenger seat. 

“Is driving really the best idea?” he asks while ducking into the pilot seat. The rest of the team jumps into the back of the van, fumbling around and tossing things in whatever direction. You struggle to walk through the seats as the vehicle rocks sideways on account of the commotion. 

“The vampires are still far away,” you hear Shinoa say, already breathless, perhaps from the stress. “We might lose them if we leave now.” 

You would have liked to suggest turning off all lights inside the house and hope the vampires fly past without batting an eye at it, but there’s always the possibility they could stop to inspect the place and if they catch you, it’s game over. 

Besides, your idea only stems from the fact you want a reason to stay there longer, living the fantasy of a normal life. It isn’t a strategic plan by any means.

Yoichi throws the last bag of rations inside and slides the door close after he has gotten in the van. Makoto throws an arm over to check behind his shoulder that everyone has made it inside. With a quick scan across the seats, he turns back to the front and springs the vehicle to life. 

You are seated on the last row, keeping watch with steady eyes on the back window in case choppers appear. They are much faster than you traveling on wheels and you wouldn’t put it past them to know exactly where to search.

Yoichi sits on the row before yours, peering from the side window, which remains open in case he happens to need a clear shot. You feel the cool breeze hitting the back of your neck; probably sprawling Yoichi’s mane of brown hair out of place.

Mitsuba occupies the opposite window alongside Kimizuki, and taking the first row of seats are Mikaela and Yuichiro as they keep attentive eyes on all sides. 

You can only hear your own heartbeat and the wheels of the van. No one dares to speak a word outside of what is necessary. 

They’re all visibly stressed, but that’s it. On the other hand, you are frightened. A fucking soldier with years of experience in the field is scared out of her wits. The thought is silly and embarrassing. It’s like you've let yourself go. Your dominant hand is wrecked and you have completely brushed off training in favor of vacation.

You pushed yourself into this ditch. Should the worst come to happen, you doubt you’d be able to protect yourself and the others. You’re useless as things stand. 

Makoto continuously checks behind him through the rear view mirror. “Where are they coming from?” you hear him ask. 

“North-east,” says Shinoa, delaying the information Yoichi passed down earlier. “Head south.”

South? You twist around to place your eyes on the back of Shinoa’s head. “But the nearest village is on the west.” 

“I’d rather not risk their safety. We lose them first. Then we’ll see what to do next.”

Point taken. You don’t know whether the vampires have caught on to your presence or not. 

As the van continues to take course in a straight line, you sit properly to give your numb knees a break, sights set on your bandaged hand. Enough days have passed that you’ve learned to ignore the invisible bites being continuously inflicted from the inner side of your skin, only being reminded of the pain whenever you take an action that’s too straining on the limb. Supporting Karkodan’s heavy weight for starters.

You try to clench the muscles, but your fingers are heavy and useless. 

“Choppers!” Mitsuba cries, taking your attention from your hand to the front view, along with every other head inside the vehicle.

Black dots emerge from the line dividing the ground from the sky, flying towards the van in a straight line. You have been spotted. It’s possible they already knew your location for them to have come here so soon. If such is the case, the ones on the north-east might catch up sooner than expected, cornering you from all sides.  

Makoto clicks his tongue. “Shit, they had more of those roaming around?”

Kimizuki grasps onto the front seat, shoving his head forward to address Makoto. “They were either scouting the plains, or actively searching for us. What now?” Sweat has already started taking shape on his nape and forehead. The adrenaline is doing the same to everyone. You have been through worse as a group, but it never gets easier.

Yuichiro unsheathes his blade, which pulses in response to its bearer’s intentions. “We fight,” he says with seriousness. His eyes are sharp and narrowed, showing level-headedness instead of a blind urge to battle.

“For once, I agree with Yuu,” answers Shinoa. “It won’t be long before they fire a missile at us. Let’s hurry out of the van. We stand a good fighting chance with Yoichi as our archer. He’ll take out the choppers and we'll finish them on the ground.”

The van comes to an immediate stop, shoving everyone out of their seats with the force of its momentum. Yuichiro tosses the door open and hops out. The rest follow in line until you’re the only one left inside. 

You push out a loaded breath of air, hoping to get rid of the nerves, but it bears no change. Your chest still feels like it’s about to burst apart with the thumping of your heart. 

Shrugging every bit of thought away, you trek through the seats and land on dead soil. Makoto had been avoiding the highways, but it seems the vampires knew exactly where to search. 

You’re weak, Karkodan chastises inside your head.

Shut up.

Yoichi runs a few steps in front of the group with his bow and fires a clean shot that damages the spiraling blades. The helicopter loses balance and descends to the ground. Just before it can hit the ground, a squad of vampires jump off from both sides, amounting to six in total drawing their crimson swords.

They all appear to be lower class. Maybe you won’t have such a hard time after all. At least until the second batch arrives. 

The explosion behind them forces you and your group mates to look away with a protective hand over your faces, though as soon as the fire dies down to a decent size, you all draw your weapons out with almost perfect synchronization. 

“Yuu, Kimizuki and Mikaela will be our main defence. Mistuba, Makoto and I will assist them.” She side-eyes you, taking notice of your injured hand. “You and Yoichi do what you handle best. Protect us with your long range attacks.”

You’re already starting to feel useless. Karkodan does best attacking when there’s distance involved, that’s true, but you had pushed past that barrier together and were known for handling close range just as fine. 

Dignity and pride must be pushed aside, though. Shinoa is right. Long distance protection is all you can offer them at the moment.

The plains are open and unprotected. It won’t be long before nearby choppers catch wind of the noise and black smoke coming from the explosion. 

Mikaela and Yuchiro pull off perfect teamwork while fighting against three vampires. There haven’t been many opportunities in which they could have gained much experience working together in battle, yet it seems like they were born doing it. The only difference is Mikaela’s grace and technique while handling his sword. Something Yuichiro neglected during his own training at the Moon Demon Company, but it gets the job done.

Mitsuba and Shinoa handle one vampire together. Weapons clash one after the other, creating metallic rings that perturbe the ear. They both flow well together as well. 

Kimizuki and Makoto handle one vampire each. Neither fall short on technique; not the two boys or the enemy. Though Makoto has the situation well under his control, you watch Kimizuki’s opponent overpower the thrusts of his twin swords and soon after top it off with the sweep of his leg to disrupt Kimizuki’s footing.

He crashes the ground on his back, pushing air out of his lungs with a grunt. As soon as the vampire raises his sword, preparing to slice through the air, your legs propel you forward with a mind of their own. You won’t make it in time to halt the momentum of the sword, but that’s what Karkodan is for.

After some struggles, you flick the fan open on your third try and swing a current of wind at the vampire. The sharp crescents cut through the air and continue past the vampire’s head without as much as touching him. The most you could have done was slice off a stray hair.

You stomp the floor in an outrage. "Oh, come on!" 

You hear metal crashing behind you and flinch. The attack is so close you feel a cool breeze on your nape. Looking behind you, Mikaela has stopped a blade from swinging through your neck.

Dismissing the fact you could have watched yourself get decapitated on the spot, you swirl around to check on Kimizuki, only to realize with a relieved sigh that he managed to block the attack and is back on his feet.

If anything, you could have hindered him with how poor your aim is. 

Behind you, Mikaela has already killed the vampire. 

You can’t help the instinct of laughing. It’s so pathetic. You’re pathetic. 

"I'm completely useless. What the fuck?” The words barely make it past the hiccups of laughter. You raise your good hand to grasp your hair from the roots. “Karkodan, just devour me, please."

Mikaela walks up to you to pull your hand down. "Calm down," he orders, voice stern. 

"Holy shit, he was right in front of me,” you continue, ignoring him, hands pointing to Kimizuki’s spot, who has already dealt with his opponent. Your eyes are wide, jerked brows crowning them. “How the fuck did I miss? What the actual fuck? A common vampire could have killed me. " 

I'd leave if I could, Karkodan says inside your head. He isn’t taunting. You can hear the disappointment in his comment. 

You push another laugh. "Honestly, I wouldn't blame you!" 

Kimizuki calls from a distance, “Chill out already. The battle isn’t over yet.” His eyes are situated past you, taking your and Mikaela’s attention behind you.

Two more choppers head in your direction. No doubt with an estimate of six more vampires inside each. 

Mitsuba growls to the sky. “They caught up to us!”

You tighten your grip on your fan and crouch into a proper fighting stance. “Okay, okay, okay,” you whisper, meant only as comfort for yourself. “We got this, buddy. We know how to kick ass.” You skip on your spot, both because of nervousness and as warm-up. “We got this.”

Mikaela takes a fleeting moment to study you. “I’ll watch your back.”

With your whole attention set on the incoming choppers, you murmur, “I can fend for myself.”

Yoichi fires a couple of shots that are dodged in the nick of time. More vampires rain from the sky and land with ease on the ground, soon after lunging to a sprint towards the group.

Your heart leaps to your throat, but you keep your mouth shut and swallow. Your teammates run past you, leaving only a breeze behind. They are purposeful with their movements; they don’t doubt; they see a threat and take action.

Meanwhile, you’re frozen in place, struggling to find a comfortable way to grab your fan.

Mikaela resides beside you, urging you to snap your head in his direction, eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here? Go already.”

“I said I would watch you back.” His calm demeanor remains unhindered, even as you walk behind him and start pushing him forward from the back. Of course, he doesn’t budge. Your strength amounts to nothing before a vampire. 

“Yeah, I don’t think so, buddy. The fight is over there,” you grunt amidst your efforts. 

“They can handle themselves. You can’t.” 

It doesn’t help that he talks without a filter or moderation in his voice. He lays out the facts as they are without consideration for your pride. 

“And I took that personally,” you grumble. 

“Don’t exaggerate. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

You keep the incoming groan stuck in your throat. “Okay, fine. Let’s just go.” 

Mikaela follows closely behind you, sword drawn. Your friends are engaging in battle. The most capable ones are handling two vampires at a time, leaving three bastards heading your way. You will grant Mikaela the pleasure of confronting two. For now, you’ll be content with yourself as long as you manage to kill at least one. 

You clash weapons with one of them; Mikaela runs past to block the other two. Your hand trembles, barely able to hold off against the superhuman strength of your opponent. You parry and dodge a few swings aimed at your head, but your overall performance is sloppy and the vampire notices. His red eyes gain a sheen of mischievous interest when he notices your bandaged hand.

“Don’t get cocky,” you say. “This won’t stop me.”

Despite your bold statement, the weapon nearly slips from your hand and you’re forced to take a step back from another attack directed at your chest. 

“Shit,” you grumble, glaring daggers at your hand.

The vampire merely laughs. 

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” you bark, switching hands and striking again.

The prickles multiply on your dominant hand. You can’t get a feel of your weapon. It’s like your sense of touch has been nullified in that area. One measly strike is all it takes to get Karkodan flying off your hand. 

Not good.

You duck down, missing the blade by a hair, and sprint off to fetch him. 

You completely disregard the fact that vampires have five times your speed, though. A punch on the side of your waist hurls you across the air. You land with your back against the van and slide down to the ground, limbs hanging like rags beside you, head heavy on your shoulders.

Yup, totally useless.

With effort, you pull your head up and come into direct visual contact with Miakela’s widened stare situated somewhere behind you. 

You twist just enough to look behind you and realize that a missile has already been fired in your direction. 

Your blood transforms into ice, but it doesn’t keep your legs from acting out on instinct. They lunge you forward, already having you a few feet away when the van is blown to bits. 

The explosion catches you even so. You feel the aftereffects melting away the skin of your left thigh as you hit the ground. Coiling into a ball, you hold on to the uninjured parts of your leg, cries tearing from your lungs. 

The prickles you get on your hand have multiplied by ten on your thigh. You can’t move it; the muscles are dead there too, yet the sear coming from the wound makes it seem like you’ve carved a chunk of skin out with a knife. Your eyes are clenched shut so tight you have started seeing stars dancing around to the beat of your agony. 

Someone grabs your arms, and before you can say Mikaela’s name, the sole of a boot presses into your wound.

You see death in that moment. You feel each cell in your skin tearing apart; the muscles squashing; your bones rattling. The pain comes like a punch to the gut, pushing all air out through another scream that fries your vocal chords. 

A moment later, you’re released, but you don’t open your eyes to see what happened. You don’t even hear your surroundings anymore. Only your cries. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck!” With no way of escaping the torment, you clutch your head and sink your nails in. Anything to distract you from the circus taking place on your thigh, but despite the prickles inflicted by your hands, nothing beats the array of sensations spiralling out of control on your wound, not even your injured hand.

You roll around, tossing your head back, smashing it against the hard ground, yet not even that surpasses the pain. “Oh my God! Fuck!”

Footsteps come to a halt around you, which you hope belong to those of your teammates because you can’t afford to unclench your eyes. 

“How bad is it?” sounds muffled. You recognize bits of Shinoa’s tone. 

“Really bad.” That should be Kimizuki...or is it Makoto? The hand touching around the injury is extremely delicate while handling you. “But we can’t stay here.”

“Let’s run into the forest!” someone answers. You can’t distinguish any characteristic other than the voice of a male. 

A hand slides on your back, helping you up. You’re reminded right then of the punch that vampire landed on your side because it fucking hurts as well. Another arm wraps under your legs, mindful of the wound, and pulls you against a cold chest.

Despite the commotion happening in your head and body, you immediately know it’s Mikaela. 

Time flows torturously slow. You don’t know what’s happening, where you are, what anyone’s doing. Mikaela walks with you in his arms, and any movement he does, however small, is a direct repercussion on your leg. You can’t stop twisting and squirming and growling. If anyone offered to chop it off, you would probably say yes in a heartbeat despite the absurdity of it. 

At some point, you’re placed back on the floor. You have yet to open your eyes. Instead of black, you’re at the near point of having a vision full of white, red and yellow lines.

“Ah! Fucking hell!” you bellow. 

Shuffling noises occur around you, of which you aren’t able to identify. 

“We lost everything inside the van,” someone says, perhaps Kimizuki. You aren’t sure. “Pass the alcohol.” 

Multiple hands hold you down from all limbs and both of your shoulders. You feel like a lamb being sent to the slaughter. Panic settles on your chest, though no one would notice a difference seeing as you haven’t stopped kicking and screaming amidst heavy pants.

Liquid burns your wound and you jolt like your life had been drained out of you. Every piece of muscle and tissue becomes twice as sensitive, letting you know how each microscopic cell cries  out for help, sending shockwaves of electricity all the way to your brain.

Your throat is dry and irritated, yet another shrill tears from your lungs.

“You’re hurting her.”

“I’m being the most gentle I can be,” Kimizuki replies. “Hold her down.”

You aren’t sure what happens afterwards. The seconds and minutes blend together as you dawdle between consciousness and oblivion, but not once can you fully get rid of the pain; it makes sure to keep you aware just enough so you can’t faint for even a flicker of a moment. 

When you finally open your eyes, you are seated against the bark of a tree. Your vision is blurry and the images around you dance in pairs. There are trees towering under the night sky. Your friends handle a small fireplace built a few feet away from you, though specific details on their faces aren’t visible to your tired eyes.

“How are you feeling?” The soft voice of Mikaela pulls your attention to the side, where he sits close by. 

“Terrible.” The word stumbles on your tongue and scratches your dry throat. You can’t pronounce it right. “I can’t even pass out.”

Shinoa’s figure catches your attention. She crouches down in front of you with a half-filled water bottle. “Here.”

You place a lot of effort into moving your arm up to grab it. Despite the light weight of the plastic, your limb gets beaten by it and falls back to the ground. “What now?” you breathe. 

“We’re waiting for the coast to clear,” she answers. “Yoichi, Makoto and Yuu are currently on watch. Once we deem it safe enough, we can go seek help.” With a hand on your shoulder, she nods to communicate some reassurance and gets back up to return to the fireplace. 

The thought of Karkodan crashes into you like a strike of lightning. You tilt your chin down and find him tucked under your felt. Your chest immediately eases with a long and quiet sigh. 

You notice your bandaged leg as well. Most of the white has already turned crimson red with what you suppose is your blood.

You barely recognize yourself. It hasn’t been long since you recovered from a near death experience and somehow you’re back at it again. Common vampires used to be a walk in the park. What the hell has happened to you?

Can you even fix it? Your hand appears to be forever doomed, though that is no one’s fault but yours.

“I should train," you think out loud. 

"You need rest." Mikaela reminds you he’s right beside you and is attentive to your every movement, even the small twitches of discomfort on your face.

Karkodan has every right to be angry. You had a set-back, an obstacle you should have trained your way around and you didn’t. Instead, you took relaxing showers, had chats with the girls, laughed, lived, kissed. Luxuries you forgot you couldn’t afford. 

"Hey,” Mikaela whispers. “Stop that."

With the little energy you possess, you turn your head an inch, enough to meet his glittering eyes, which have the fire reflected in them. "Stop...what?"

"Thinking too much."

But that’s what you haven’t been doing lately. You forgot to think. The present was all that mattered to you and because of that, you weren’t prepared to confront the future that has now become your new present. You’re struggling because you didn’t use your time wisely. 

The pain you feel is a worthy reminder of your choices.

“Shit,” you grunt through clenched teeth, squirming into the trunk while trying to keep your leg still. 

“You can squeeze my hand,” he offers.

Without looking where it could be, you swat the air in search of it until you land a weak smack on his open palm. Fingers curl in as you squish with the little strength you have in your muscles. 

You push out a long string of ‘ah’s towards the sky. You blow puffs of air through your nose and do your best to calm down. 

A minute later, you turn to him and croak, “Are you good?”

He quirks a curious brow, emphasizing your leg with the flicker of his eyes before he returns to your face. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Because…” You take a second to swallow before continuing, “There’s blood everywhere.”

He doesn’t think twice about answering, “I’m only thinking about you right now.”

Before your heart can swell, another sting of pain calls you back to reality. “Ah, fuck.”

“Is there anything you need?”

You lean your head against the trunk, blurry gaze pointed at the stars in the sky. The only thing you need is for this pain to go away...that and a fuck ton of training. 

But for the sake of saying anything, you reply, “Ice cream maybe.”

You can tell it catches him by surprise. It would be funny if you didn’t feel like you had one foot on the grave.

“I wouldn’t know where to find that,” he says in that awkward and confused way he tends to be when it comes to the most trivial of things. It reminds you of the time he couldn’t choose between the brown and white sugar packets like it even mattered. 

You chuckle a weak sound. “Yeah, me neither. I haven’t had any in a while.” You can only kill time as you are, so you might as well try to entertain your mind with whatever’s at hand. “Have you ever tried it?” 

“I used to buy it for the kids at the orphanage.”

Since you haven’t torn your eyes from the sky, you hum to indicate you’re listening. “What was your favorite flavor?”

He thinks for a second. “I can’t remember. I think the fruity ones.”

“Do vampires eat blood ice cream?”

Without looking at him, you can tell he scrunched a funny face. “What are you talking about?” he asks, his tone still carefully quiet. 

You push out a laugh that holds more air than sound. “I don’t even know,” you admit. Your thoughts are mushed together and your mouth simply rolls with it. “Hey, Mika. If the world was normal and we had still met, would you have dated me?”

The question catches him off guard again. The entire conversation is. It has no direction in particular. 

“But the world isn’t normal.”

“But if it was.”

He uses the silence to think some more. “If it was, I would take you out to different ice cream places.”

You let gravity push your head down, eyes finding Mikaela’s shining ones. “I’d order the triple jumbo cone,” you admit bluntly, tongue tripping on the words. “Those are ridiculously expensive. Would you still date me then?”

His chest pushes a light chuckle he cages in his throat. “Yes.”

Your lids grow heavy, but you don’t fight them, pleased with having Mikaela as the last face you get to see. “And I wouldn’t share,” you mumble. 

“That’s fine, too.”

“I’m…” You blink, slow and heavy.  “...getting sleepy.”

Finally, your consciousness decides to take a break and you pass out on the spot with Mikaela as your last thought. 

Chapter Text

It’s as if a huge boulder was resting over you, keeping you glued to the ground when you flutter your eyes open. There’s barely any light sneaking inside wherever it is you lay, and still it takes you about half a minute for the images to lose their blur and stop stinging inside your head. 

You blink away the drowsiness and scan your surroundings, heart in your chest waking up with stronger beats against your ribcage. With not a single familiar face in sight, you feel helpless and endangered. Who’s to say the vampires haven’t killed or imprisoned every single member of your squad?

Mikela’s name is but raspy air in your throat. Coughing and swallowing doesn’t help clear it up.

The gradual awakening of your nerves and muscles crashes upon you a scorch of pain the moment you try hiking up your leg, having forgotten it was badly wounded in the first place. 

For now, you leave it where it rests. 

Bandages dress your whole thigh in white. There’s no way of telling how it’s progressing beneath all that cover, but the throbs are more tolerable, even if only a bit compared to when the wound was fresh. 

“Oh, you're awake.” Shinoa tugs at a long drape covering the entrance, where a door would normally be. Amber eyes place a soft gaze on you as she strides forward, the smile on her face showing relief. Following closely behind her, Makoto pushes through the drapes and comes in as well. 

Looking around for the first time, you realize you’re inside what appears to be a small cottage. There’s only enough space to fit a chair, a box on the ground with different kinds of tools inside, a portable stove, which also lays on the ground, and the futon you’ve been sleeping on. Only one window welcomes the light of the setting sun, covering almost everything around you in a dress of shadows.

“Where are we?” you croak with your dry voice, swerving your head to the side, where Shinoa has crouched down to sit on her knees beside you. Makoto leans against the wall near the entrance, arms crossed. 

“A small village on the coast. We waited all night in that forest for the vamps to lose track of us. Makoto hotwired an old truck and we drove all the way here. Hopefully undetected. The healer of this village helped with your leg.” She eyes the bandages for a fleeting moment before trailing back to your face. “How is it feeling?”

“Better than last time, but I can’t move it.” As proof of your statement, you tug the muscles comprising your leg, only to express regret a second later through a quiet hiss. 

“It’s only been a little over twenty four hours since you passed out. It may take weeks for it to heal.” Sensing your disdain, Shinoa places a steady hand on your shoulder and gives it a light shake while still being mindful of your state. “We’ll take as much time as you need, so don’t worry about it.”

You hum to indicate that you heard. “What about Mikaela? Do the villagers know he’s a vampire?”

She retracks her hand and leans back to rest over her ankles. “They’re still a little skeptical. Mika has been keeping his distance so the villagers stay calm. We’ve offered them our protection from the Horsemen of John in exchange for shelter and so far they’ve been pleased with the outcome. Surprisingly, the traffic of monsters in this area is quite high.”

“Genuine question,” Makoto adds his first set of words since he came in. His tone is calm in nature, and so are his eyes. “You healed abnormally fast when a sword pierced through your chest. What happened now? You didn’t feel that same surge of power?”

At no point did you see that yellow sphere of light you encountered the last time you were on the brink of death, perhaps because Karkodan is doing a good job keeping it sealed. Even if you had seen it, chances are you wouldn’t have stepped anywhere near that thing to spare whatever is left of your useless hand. 

“Those powers are harmful to my body. I mean, just look at this.” You lift your arm up. The prickles are still there, though it’s safe to say the wound on your leg currently steals the spotlight. “Karkodan is keeping this power under control. If I were to ever use it, I’m almost certain I’d die.” 

Makoto keeps a long and intense look on you. He seems thoughtful. “A power that is both helpful and destructive,” he says through quiet murmurs, shaking his head with his eyes set on the floor near his feet. “Humans have been doing way too much behind our backs all these years.”

You huff a breath through your nose in agreement. “Yeah, Guren and the Hiragis especially,” you grumble with scorn. “I don’t trust them one bit with the fate of our futures.” 

Shinoa steps into the conversation, placing the outstretched palm of her hand on her chest. “I made the mistake of taking time off for too long when we should have been planning our next course of action. As soon as you’re able to walk properly, we’re having that meeting once and for all. We can’t keep running around the country for the rest of our days.”

Your nod is sharp, just like your voice when you answer, “Agree. I’m like this because I slacked off, too. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize.” Makoto’s usual serious nature has been softened up by a mien of tranquility. He is already turned away and walking out when you peer up at him. Pushing aside the drape, he adds, “Just get better soon and we’ll call it even.” He’s gone without giving you the time to reply.

Your guess is as good as any when it comes to the thoughts swimming inside Makoto’s head, but it would seem he holds little to no grudges over past incidents at long last. 

Shinoa looks back at you and curves a reassuring smile. “Hey, you have to relearn your fighting style from scratch. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“I haven’t been pushing myself at all,” you sigh. “That’s the problem. I’ve been too distracted these days.”

Shinoa’s lips tilt upwards an inch further, though the expression her eyes bear doesn't show a trace of banter when she says, “Because of Mikaela?”

You push out a hollow laugh. “Is it obvious?”

“Really obvious, actually. Neither of you were exactly subtle, but that’s alright.” Shinoa places the back of her hand against her forehead and flips her head sideways with dramatic intent. “Young love shan’t be hidden. As long as you remain pure–”

“Ugh, Shinoa.” You wave her off with a tired expression. Your feelings for Mikaela aren’t a cause for embarrassment anymore, but you don’t want others placing too much attention into it either. “Seriously. Stop.” 

After leaving space for some giggles, she fixes her posture once again and gets somewhat serious. “How are you faring with your demon?”

You fix your stare on the ceiling. Having your head tilted to the side for too long was starting a cramp on your nape. “I’m sure he would have possessed me a long time ago if he could. This power I have keeps him from taking over. I’m not as strong minded as I used to be.” You sigh out your distress, rubbing with two fingers the space between your eyebrows. “I’m telling you, Shinoa. I’ve been slacking off in all departments. It’s embarrassing.” 

Shinoa is thoughtful and silent. You have no doubt in your mind that she agrees with your claims. At least, from the point of view of a squad leader. Perhaps she thinks differently as your friend, and that’s what’s halting a quicker response. 

Eventually, she shifts back to her feet, saying, “For now just focus on resting. You won’t be able to change much with an injured leg.” She heads to the exit. 

“Yuu and the rest?”

She stops with a grip on the drape, which lets in the light from outside as she pulls it aside. “Yuu transformed again. Mika is with him. The others are helping around the village and keeping watch. Rest easy. Everything is under control.” With one final smile, she steps out of sight, leaving you in silence with your thoughts. 

Yuichiro is at it again, it seems. That's not good. His humanity slithers away with every transformation that takes place. The time he spends as a demon increases, and if this keeps up, it won’t be long before he spends half a day like one.

Mikaela is there to ensure his safety, though. And you have no doubt in your mind that everyone on the team is equally capable of handling Yuichiro’s bad side should the worst come to pass.

You can’t say the same about you. The last time Yuichiro transformed while you were around, you were completely helpless in his grasp, unable to defend yourself. Your protection depends on others as you are, which, in your book, equals a liability. Even before you got your hand charred, the enemies you stumbled upon were already becoming a struggle, because you allowed yourself to relax; you let yourself lose sight of what was truly important. 

Something has to change, or else you’ll be the first one under a tombstone this early into the race. 

You rest your eyes, but movement at the entrance beckons them to open again.

Your heart skips a beat as Mikaela enters the cottage, and not because of elation. After losing yourself to your train of thoughts and reaching a conclusion regarding the cause of your distraction, Mikaela was the last being you wanted to see. 

“Hey,” he says, tone soft. “The human girl told me you were awake.”

A sigh escapes your lips. “Shinoa,” you correct. 

Mikaela comes to a stop beside you and bends down to closer eye level. The red of his irises appears brown under the shadows; they convey tender admiration at the sight of you. “How are you feeling?”

You swallow, feeling a bit nervous. “I’m okay. Just a little sore.” Your voice is thick on account of the knot in your throat. 

“Have you eaten anything?”

“I’m not hungry yet.” You look away from his eyes to focus on the ceiling. Maybe you’re being selfish and unreasonable–no, you most definitely are–but all of sudden you can’t see Mikaela as anything other than what he is: a distraction; and it’s not even his fault to begin with. You dragged him down this fruitless road with you. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, catching you off guard. It pulls your attention back to him. “I should have been able to protect you–”

You raise your hand, index finger outstretched before him. “Don’t finish that thought. I should have been able to protect myself. That’s it.” 

He’s softening you up, he’s making you think it’s okay to let others carry your weight. It’s not. You need yourself before anyone else, and that’s a fact not excluding even Mikaela. 

“But your hand…”

“I have two for a reason,” you mutter, then sigh. You won’t deny feeling slightly disappointed. “Listen, I appreciate the intention and all, but I don’t want to be your damsel in distress either. I’m a trained soldier, Mikaela.”

His brows furrow slightly. “Mika.”

“Huh?”

“You sound angry at me. Why?” 

“I–” 

Guilt contracts your chest. You know he doesn’t deserve this. You’re the one who can’t properly balance your relationship and military career. Mikaela has only ever responded to your feelings despite being a vampire who doesn’t have a clear understanding of them.

You’re selfish. But of course, that isn’t recent news. 

Mikaela pushes a stray hair behind your ear with his little finger. Then, instead of taking back his hand, he keeps the digit sliding tender touches across your cheek. “I don’t care if you’re a damsel in distress.” His voice is quiet and inviting, and before your lips can utter a sound, he’s already adding, “I know you sometimes want to be one.”

“No.” That’s… not true. You want to be dependable. You want to help others and support your squad. You can handle the weight of your responsibilities. Years on the battlefield prove that you can. 

His fingers on your skin spread out to let his whole palm cradle the side of your face. His other one moves to cup the opposing cheek. Mikaela slowly begins inching down, eyes glinting with serious passion. “You can depend on me,” he whispers; the sentence fans your face, evoking an electrifying chill that rattles your bones. “Please, depend on me more.”

He brushes his nose against yours, fiery eyes casting their spell on you through a solid grip of stares. His pupils are eclipsed moons surrounded in red. They communicate purpose and invasive fervor. You’re more than a little stunned. 

His lips part open to let out another cool breath, leaving tantalizing strokes against your mouth following the wake of their movement. His hair is all over your eyes; they skim and tickle your forehead. You could fall asleep to the sensations if you weren’t so captivated by his towering presence.

Your will gives out along with the lids that flutter shut in surrender, ready to accept the kiss it seems he’s about to give you. “Okay,” is a breathy murmur leaving your lips. 

The seconds tick by in silence without Mikaela moving. He hovers a breath away from your face, blowing quiet puffs of air over you. It isn’t long before confusion gets the best of you, tempting your eyes to open, light frown settled above them. 

The stare he returns is serious, disappointed, heartless. Where before he brimmed with total adoration, now he looks at you like you were a measly bug on the floor. 

“You’re weak.” He rubs it in with a sound of voice as cold as stone, flat and shielded behind barriers you had long since thought were broken down. 

Still in a daze, you quirk a brow. “Huh?”

The next time he speaks, it’s not Mikaela you hear. “This was so easy. You should be ashamed of yourself. I didn’t even try.”

Karkodan.

Having nothing to say back, you squeeze your eyes shut, lips pressed together inwards with the same amount of effort. You stick an incoming growl inside your throat. 

Your surroundings shatter like glass and the room is replaced by an endless void of pure white. It has been a while since you were last brought here and the anxious pang that wells up in your chest as a consequence of the neverending nothingness is a familiar feeling you hadn’t missed at all. Though his realm looks eternal, it suffocates you.  

In realizing that you’re inside your head, you hike up your legs with no effort and get on your feet. Looking down, you see that the wound is gone, as is the pain that came attached to it.

Kakordan is up ahead when you steer your gaze forward, standing tall and mighty in his serpent form of white and green scales. You can’t remember the last time you saw him. He had given up on the idea of pestering you ever since the fact that you couldn’t be possessed settled on stone.

He swats his tail around, smacking the floor from left to right. You don’t need face expressions to know he’s pissed. “Just look at yourself,” he snarls. “You’re easy bait in both mind and body. What is even left for me to do for you? When there isn’t anything you’re interested in fighting for. You got the vampire. Cute. Now you don’t give a fuck about anything else. You don’t give a fuck about yourself.” 

You listen, because you owe him that much. You aren’t going to refute. You know he’s right. 

He slips his forked tongue out, hissing. “If it was up to me, I would have left already. Pathetic. You’re the weakest you’ve ever been and I still can’t do anything to you. This whole predicament we find ourselves in is pathetic.” 

Sucking in a breath, you say, “I’m sorry, Karkodan.” 

“Sorry won’t fix anything. I don’t need words of sentimental value. I need actions.”

“And you’ll get them,” you say, displaying conviction through your eyes. “I promise you. I swear. You know I want to change. Can’t you feel the desire coursing through me?”

He huffs behind a sealed mouth. “Of course I feel it. Now, that is. With the little push I gave you. I’m full of it with your desire for that vampire. It has been the same, boring, bland flavor for the past month.”

You can’t help it. The edges of your lips tug up a bit. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Do you care at all about your past? About figuring out who you are?”

The truth is you didn’t. Not really. You were content with what you had: a life that wasn’t your reality. You thought you could get by living in it, but yesterday’s events proved you were wrong. This – war, the apocalypse, restless nights, demons, seraphs, monsters, vampires– is your reality, and in order to survive in it, you need yourself first and foremost. 

“I do,” you say with determination. “I will get strong, gain back what I lost and more, then go look for Guren and kick his ass to the curb; make him tell me everything once and for all. I desire power, Karkodan. Help heal my leg faster and watch me get us back to where we once were.” 

The small movement of his head and the attention glued on you reveals he’s actually pleased, or at least relieved, even if his expression as a whole doesn’t show anything. 

You blink, and the next time you try to move your leg, the sensation of skin tearing apart snaps you back into the real world, back to where you’re useless and immobile.

Not for long, though. You can feel Karkodan’s demon energy flowing through you, warm on your bones, sweet like dessert, empowering. He will speed up the recovery process. 

Your eyes are the ones to open next. The space surrounding you has gone back to its previous state. You’re in a dark cottage, shielded away from the outside light; the entrance is blocked by a drape instead of a door; there are scattered items around, amongst them a portable stove, a chair and a toolbox. 

Yes, you’re back. 

“You’re awake.” 

That voice makes you freeze on the spot. 

“I brought food,” he adds. 

Beside you, Mikaela sits with his legs crossed, dressed in casual clothes: a plain t-shirt and black trousers. Excluding the glittering eyes and slit pupils, he almost looks human.

A bowl with a mixture of rice and beans is extended in your direction. You sit up, caging groans inside your throat as you feel your thigh complaining, and wordlessly reach out, perceptive of the cold fingers you grace while taking it from him. 

Snap out of it.

Ignoring the two spheres of red watching your every movement, you keep your attention set on the bowl you place on your uninjured thigh. The heat of the food trespasses the porcelain, providing fuzzy warmth to your skin. 

“Thank you.” It’s like your voice gets stuck between your teeth when you say that. 

For better or for worse, Mikaela fails to notice what’s amiss, or so it seems that way. With a tone that cradles your ears like cotton, he asks, “Is the medicine working? The healer said it was supposed to diminish the pain.”

You poke the contents inside the bowl with your spoon, head tilted down. The intensity of his stare weighs down on your shoulders. Be it cowardice or stubbornness, you can’t make yourself return it. “Yeah, it’s working fine. Karkodan’s aiding in the process as well.”

There’s a moment Mikaela uses in silence to study you. The oxygen around you grows thick and your heart gets louder. You feel bare in front of him, only this time you’re not a fan of the feeling. 

“Do you want help changing the bandages?” he asks, though he sounds a tad unsure about what he’s saying.

“I can do it myself.” You collect some rice and beans into your spoon and raise it to your lips to blow the steam off. “Thank you,” you say before shoving the food into your mouth. 

“Are you okay?” 

You see an incoming hand from your peripheral and lean away from it. Mikaela’s intentions freeze on the spot. You don’t dare to look back at his expression, yet most of the dejection can be spotted in the way his arm drops back to his side. 

“Just a bit worn out,” you answer, deadpan, while gathering more food into your spoon. “How’s Yuichiro?”

“He passed out on his bed.”

You hum. “Shouldn’t you be by his side?”

“He’s fine. You’re the one who’s injured.”

You clutch the spoon. “I don’t need you babying me, Mikaela.” 

“I don’t think I’m doing that.” He sounds a bit taken aback.  

He did that, too, back when you were running from the vampire choppers. He stuck by you because he knew you were weak, and the worst part is that even though you didn’t want it, his actions were justified. You would be dead had it not been for him blocking a sword aimed at your throat, then carrying you when you were at the edge of unconsciousness. 

It is exactly because you need him to baby you that you don’t want it. You refuse to continue on like this. 

Influenced by your thoughts, the next words come out venomous. “You are.” You shift your injured leg, face clear of movement even though the pain is eating you up from the inside. You’re tired of showing weakness. There was a time where you could walk through missions with open injuries, not needing anyone to pity you or save you. 

“What are you doing?” Mikaela asks. 

“Testing if this old piece of log still works.”

“You should give it more time.”

Your head snaps in his direction, stare serious and determined. “I don’t have time. We never had any time. Actually, I’m this way right now because I thought we had time when we didn’t.” Your words lunge and bite, merciless in their volume and delivery. “These are apocalyptic times. We don’t have the luxury of comfort. My biggest mistake was thinking we did.”

Surprise brims out of Mikaela’s eyes. They express everything his face won’t. Lips parted by a short breath, he answers, “I get what you mean and I agree, but–”

“I think Yuichiro needs you right now, Mikaela.” You tilt your face back towards the bowl in your hands, putting an end to the exchange before he can say anything else. 

Mikaela’s silence is heavy with defeat. From the corner of your sight, you catch him parting his lips, only to close them shut in the next second. 

He gets up. “Okay, call me if you need anything.”

Utter gloom follows him on his way to the door, and you do nothing to stop him. 

Chapter Text

With your leg finally healed, the arduous process begins. 

You start off the first day with a humble branch instead of a weapon, and as opposed to practicing swings, you stick to the very basics of writing your name in the sand. 

It's a boring practice, but nonetheless necessary. You will have to start from scratch, which is to say the level of a preschool toddler. Everything you did for one hand will now have to be done on the other. Repetition is sure to loosen up the mobility of your fingers eventually. 

By the end of the day, you have an entire square of land tattooed with your name well over fifty times; the letters of the alphabet, too, as well as random words and names. It’s not the most physically demanding start. A solid one? Definitely.  

You continue the exercise throughout the week, adding to it the use of your hand on everyday occurrences like holding utensils, folding clothes, buttoning up shirts and carrying things around, anything to wake up the muscles and nerves. 

A dozen days later, you feel ready to tackle some swings with your fan. 

The progress you feel when you hold Karkodan for the first time in a while is enough encouragement on its own. Your fingers grip it with a certainty that wasn't there before. They're at a place where they belong with the weapon. Now it’s a matter of making them one. 

Without target or aim, you move the fan around, staying sharp for sensations and weak spots you'll eventually need covered. 

Your team has offered help on multiple occasions, which you'll accept when the time arises for you to take on moving targets. You're still in the first stages of your training, where practicing alone amidst the trees accomplishes just enough. 

You keep that up for another week or so from morning to noon. Until you feel ready to practice some techniques on the trees. 

The blades of wind that come out with the flick of your wrist slice past the barks without damaging a cell the first hundreds of times. More than once, you get a day where progress is null, but not once do you let the discouragement linger for long. 

Karkodan feeds from the desire and powers you up. 

You're a little better four weeks into the training, though still a far cry from successfully firing at moving targets. The actions taken with your rejected hand feel more organic, at least. You think less about them, and eight out of ten times you will get a successful hit on something you aim. 

The situation with Mikaela is complicated. You're not on bad terms, or at least it seems that way, but a conversation will take place every other day, that despite appearing casual to the naked eye, shows a breach both psychical and emotional expanded beyond view of the other side.  

You ignore the sting because it's what needs to happen for now, and you don't know whether Mikaela understands your predicament or not, but he respects it. 

Time is needed to organize a confused heart, of which you don't have even a minute to spare. 

"Look at you," with a gentle smile, Shinoa regards you as she emerges from the trees. "Hard to believe not so long ago you couldn't hold a spoon properly."

You regard her with a soft gaze that turns stern once it's back on the trees. "Still getting there."

"Solid start, though." Her light steps on the grass pad in your direction and come to a stop behind you. 

Gaze still set forward, you ask, "Need anything?" You have yet to feel confident enough in your skills to tolerate an audience. 

"Can't a girl check on her bestie without getting questioned?" Her voice nudges up the register with the pull of a smile, teasing. Knowing her, however, it's safe to bet she has been worrying, even if only slightly, about your compulsion for training. 

Your lips pull back to show a meek grin. "Bestie, huh?" you question, brow perked above your eye. 

"Aren't we?" For a second, she sounds unsure, though that is only before you chuckle. 

"Sure," you taunt further, then turn around to properly face Shinoa, who, pouting, has both hands propped on either side of her waist. "How's Yuu?" you ask.

You haven't been keeping track of the details, but from what you've caught, Yuichiro has been turning into a demon more often than before, and the periods only continue to prolong. In order to ensure the safety of the villagers, Shinoa designated a shack to lock Yuichiro in with enchantments whenever he turns. 

"He came back a bit ago," she answers, concern stiffening her tone. "The time of transformation has stretched two more minutes."

It might not sound like much, but two minutes on a daily basis easily piles up. 

You push out a sigh. "What a pain." 

"Honestly," Shinoa huffs. "The only ones more stressed than Yuichiro are us. It's like he doesn't even care."

"Tell me something I don't know."

I can protect my family better, would be his answer, you imagine, unaware that he's endangering your lives and giving Mikaela a hard time with every transformation. 

He's selfish, stubborn, blind, but above all a complete idiot. 

You sigh again. 

"And guess what," continues Shinoa. The nature of her words becomes lighthearted. "The whole group agreed to donate some blood for Mika."

"Oh, that's nice." You were hoping Yuichiro had stayed attentive enough in your absence. The group taking charge on the matter is a pleasant surprise to hear about. "How did he take it?" 

A chuckle gets stuck behind her teeth as she scratches the back of her head. "Not… so good." Looking down, she adds with a lower tone of voice, "He slapped it off my hand, actually."

Your brows jerk up. "No way. Mikaela?" 

It's no surprise he raises several barriers in the face of humans he distrusts, but the Shinoa squad has been around for a while. It seemed like he had become more tamed in their presence. Maybe you guessed wrong. 

"He hasn't been in the best of moods lately." She pauses and appears to carefully ponder her next words. "I was… hoping maybe you knew something about it?" 

A wall of iron rises over your demeanor to conceal it from her prying eyes. You glance away, tone flattening to monotone levels. "Ask Yuu. He has seen him all week."

The silence that takes place between you stiffens the air. You feel the weight of Shinoa's stare pushing down on you. She says your name, mimicking the sound of a mother who has some idea of what's going on, then asks, "What happened? You were starry eyed for each other not so long ago."

So that was obvious, too… 

"Shinoa…" You sigh out the bits of frustration clogging your windpipe. "I'm trying to work on myself."

"I get that, but shutting him off just like that…?" 

She has given a voice to the thoughts scolding you in your head. You knew it wasn't fair from the start, but the cries of your pride, plus Kakodan's voice, have been louder, much louder, allowing you to ignore everything else and focus on yourself. 

Nothing has stopped it from hurting whenever you do think about him, however. And it sucks. It sucks that you're the cause of his frustration. 

"My resolve is weak right now," you say, more so to convince yourself than the girl in front. "Karkodan would have long since devoured me if the circumstances were any different. I'm trying to change that."

"By erasing your feelings completely?" Her words come out laden with sadness and understanding. You know she relates on many levels. Everyone on the team is so young, forced to partake in a war that was caused by the very adults who swore to protect the new generations. 

"I don't know," you answer, almost breathy with lack of volume. "Hopefully."

It's sad, but it's your reality. Your time with Mikaela was precious. That's all you can take with you on your path towards the future. Memories and nothing more. 

"It's not as easy as one thinks." Shinoa curves a weak smile, heavy with traces of sadness. "Trust me. I know a thing or two about it."

You know she does, and considering she has managed to keep her demon in check while lacking the advantage you're unfortunate enough to possess, she's stronger than you'll ever be. 

"Nothing should have started in the first place. We're rogue soldiers escaping from a powerful organization of tyrants that set this world on fire. We have demon weapons that feed on desires. We're constantly on the run. I'm an experiment. He's a vampire." You click your tongue and smack your head. 

Even if you somehow made it work, there's no future where the two of you could be together. You can't know for sure if he'll ever become human again, or if he'll ever want to leave Yuichiro's side. Some things can never be changed, regardless of want and desire. 

"Why the hell did I ever think this was a good idea?" 

As it seems that Shinoa is about to add her input, the plants rustle with movement, alerting you both. Your hand tightens around your weapon and soon relaxes once you see the familiar face of one of the villagers approaching, face twisted with worry. 

"Sargeant Shinoa," he calls, the air escaping his lungs. "You have to save us! Monsters are attacking again!" 

With a narrowed stare, she looks at you, and your sole response is a determined nod. No other words are needed. You have communicated your intent to join this fight, if not to win it, then to witness your advancement, to see if your efforts have paid off in any way, however small. 

She doesn't object, and you're both running through the vegetation in the next moment, following the villager. 

Back in the village, the team, minus Makoto, you come to notice, stands like a human barrier before the houses and crowded families, who stand outside of their homes as witnesses. Weapons drawn, they wait for you and Shinoa to join the formation. 

Coming from the shore, four horsemen of John trot to full speed towards the village. The accumulated scent of humans must have drawn them here. They vary in shape and sizes, some being thicker in frame than others, some standing on four legs while another walks on four. Their deformity can't be associated with any kind of animal or object, other than maybe deformed dragons with armor. The term 'monsters' best describes them.

"Okay," says Shinoa. Her golden key transforms into a giant scythe in her hold, which she carries as if it weighed next to nothing. "Let's do this." 

You snap your fan open and can already feel how the experience differs from past battles with your non-dominant hand. This time around, the confidence in your grasp alone sets a proper foot forward. You can count on the weapon not getting kicked out of a measly hold. 

Excitement tickles your feet, but you force yourself to stay in formation. Mitsuba and Shinoa at your sides, you lock on one of the monsters together and sync your attacks to prevent openings. 

Despite the extra effort you have to apply–inevitable seeing as it's your first confrontation in a while–, you can't tone down the butterflies in your stomach. I'm fucking doing it, you think. It's hard, and your dexterity isn't what it used to be, but neither are you getting your ass handed back to you like before. You aren't a liability to your teammates anymore. Your skills are contributing something to the cause. 

The flick of your fan sends out sharp crescents of air that blow off the head of the monster, leaving it struggling and squirming on the spot like a decapitated cockroach. Shinoa jumps in to make a cut across the spine and Mitsuba swings the final blow to ensure none of the parts regenerate. 

You'd be skipping in place if no one could see you. On the outside, you're the epitome of a war veteran who slices monsters for a living. Inside, you’re a happy toddler.

The sacrifice was worth it. You can continue your training and expect even better results. 

The other three horsemen are dealt with in a flash. The village now floods in monster parts and peaceful silence, broken a minute after as the people rush out of their homes to celebrate yet another victory. 

"We can't thank you enough," one of them says. His smile is bright and weightless. "Ever since you came here, we can all sleep feeling so much safer." 

Shinoa waves it off with a carefree grin, hands clasped behind her. "No, no. It's nothing. We are very grateful that you share your food supplies with us. It's the least we can do." 

You see Makoto from a distance with a sack thrown over his shoulder, likely filled with goods to eat. He walks leisurely, taking his time as he admires the view of the shore, poisoned water and all. He either didn't hear the monsters coming, or trusted the team to handle it well. 

Yuichiro notices him, too. "Huh, no wonder I haven't seen him."

Nothing seems to have changed about Yuichiro. He's casual, regardless of the fact that he was a demon less than ten minutes ago. 

It looks like lunch will take place soon. You want to squeeze in every bit of practice you can get, though, so an extra moment under the sun won't do you wrong. Your aim has improved exponentially, but you saw that the crescents of wind didn't strike through the middle. They were inched slightly to the left, and less than perfect precision isn't so forgiving when it comes to moving targets. 

"I'll be back," you tell Shinoa, not giving her any time to refute since you're immediately on your way back to the trees. 

Failing the battle would have motivated you to work harder and twice as much. Proving that you could, that you can, has given you the drive to keep on training until your limbs fall off and your tongue pokes out in thirst. 

You swing around, practicing old techniques you remember perfecting back at the Moon Demon Company with Guren's aid. 

He was always interested in your progress, always so attentive, always so kind and patient. He would take you out for a dessert every once in a while, justifying it on a job well done. His actions, his smile ; they always seemed genuine, and you believed him. 

Guren was a damn good actor. 

God, how you hate him. He made you look like a fool. What was he even thinking when he saw the glimmer in your eyes and your wide smile? Did he feel an ounce of remorse? Did he think about the dreams he would someday crush? 

You will find him. You will make him spill it out and you will slap him. He owes you that much. 

Fucking bastard. 

The next swing you take across comes to a full stop a breath away from Mikaela's throat. He freezes on the spot, chin tilted up, eyes briefly widened. 

You mimic his posture, influenced by the shock. “Shit, Mika," you breathe. "I could have hurt you.”

With the fan away from his neck, Mikaela tips his head back to its usual angle. His brows are briefly furrowed, though it doesn’t seem to be in regards to the near accident, but rather… “Should you be straining yourself that much?"

You tuck your fan under your belt. “My leg is fine.” To further prove your point, you stomp the ground with it and twist the ankle in circles. You look up to meet his red eyes. The emotional distance built upon weeks of avoidance can be felt , and it’s really awkward. Unlike before, the staring between you isn’t instinctual, or passionate, and the words you speak don’t flow naturally, if only to try to appear casual before him. "So I heard the group gave you blood. Does mixing types make it taste bad? Shinoa told me you didn’t like it." 

"I don't want their nasty blood,” he answers, brows knitted together into a frown that expresses more concern than anger. “Don't change the subject."

"So it's either Yuu, me or the highway?” Your soft tone doesn’t match the burden of those allegations. You aren’t trying to pick a fight with him. “They're just trying to help. Don't be like that…"

He steps forward, lessening the physical space between you, and still, the invisible breach remains eternal. "Like what? What?” he insists, as if it was a dare. He talks back quietly, with softness matching yours, but the hurt in his voice is palpable. “Say it." 

You almost don’t want to. "Well…selfish, I guess.” The response is meek, unsure, and you immediately wish you could swallow it back. 

"Big words coming from you.” 

You were expecting that, and quite frankly, you deserve it. 

"Hey, in my defense. You insisted I could be selfish in front of you." Your attempt to sound lighthearted bears no fruits. Mikaela looks affected in all the wrong ways. 

“Not like this,” he says. “You’ve been acting strange.”

“Oh, you mean actually being down to earth for once? That’s weird?” You are far from accusatory, only soft and ridden with hints of regret. Because you know it’s on you. From the moment you admitted your feelings out loud and started pursuing him it has been entirely on you. 

You can only apologize to him, but not give in. 

Heaving a sigh of defeat, you say, “I’m sorry, Mikaela.” 

“Don’t.” He shakes his head, stating pure denial. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

It’s as if he tries to pierce through your soul with the next look he gives you. The red wine in his eyes quivers, brows pushed in from above. You have seen Mikaela’s expression washed in sadness before, but not once had you seen it be so bare.

“Like you want to end things with me.” 

Shit. That’s what you were trying to achieve, but now your resolve is as malleable as warm butter. 

“I…shit, Mikaela.” You scratch your head, sheer frustration sinking the nails in too deep. You steer your eyes away, lest you become victim to the pleas of his stare. “I just need space right now, okay? I need to think.” 

“You can rely on me.” 

You don’t like how this exchange is going. It reminds you of the dreams involving him, always spiraling down a similar course. Mikaela is either driven by desperation, or you’re talking to none other than Karkodan on one of his trials to test your endurance.

You’ll have to thread around it carefully. 

“Well, what if I don’t want to?” you snap back. “What if I want to rely on myself? Is that so wrong?”

“It’s not, but–”

“Okay, cool. Then we’re on the same page.” Midway into turning, before you can walk away, Mikaela snatches a hold of your wrist and swirls you back around. 

“Just breathe for a moment,” he says to stop the words from leaving your parted mouth. His hand squeezes yours, communicating some level of reassurance, and though your skin welcomes his cool touch on instinct, you let your tongue lie in your stead. 

“Mikaela, seriously–”

“Breathe,” softly, he insists.

You aren’t heartless enough to shrug his hand off–not that you really could. His grasp is mindful, but still tight. He has no intentions of letting go. 

A long breath comes in, expanding your chest, filling your lungs, then out with the drop of your shoulders. It doesn’t clear the mist clouding your head, but it gives a necessary pause to your movements, one you require to relax and avoid saying anything you might regret later on. 

The brush of a finger on your cheek disrupts that peace. You step away like he was the virus incarnated, head shaking at him the same way as a disappointed mother. “Not now,” you murmur. 

His whole arm falls back to his side with the weight of dejection. “Did I do something to upset you?” He sounds defeated. You have no right to feel pain over it. 

“No, it’s just…” Goddammit, you don’t know how to word your thoughts. Where to even begin? “I already told you. I want to fix the problem with my hand. I can’t continue to depend on the squad during battles. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden. You can depend on me–”

“I need to be able to depend on myself. The only one who can be there for me a hundred percent of the time is myself.” You squint your eyes into a weak glare. “Stop playing, Karkodan." 

He looks baffled as he blinks, head tilting an inch to the side. "Karkodan?"

The resounding chuckle of an annoying snake inside your head immediately tells you that the real Mikaela stands before you. 

Head shaking, you mutter a tired, "Nothing.” A sigh, then you pick it back up, “Bottom line is: I just need to focus on training, alright?" 

He studies you for a moment. His eyes reflect the deep pondering that appears to have taken place inside his head. Whatever it is, it eventually settles, and it is expressed outwards with a firm nod. “Okay, I understand. I can help you train.”

You raise your hands, ready to dismiss the offer. “Oh, that isn’t really–”

“You need a moving target. I have more technique than any of your comrades. Let me help you.”

He won’t let go of your stare, and it would seem he’s clinging in more ways than one; pleading, trying, fighting for something that never had name nor label.

You can’t give him the cold shoulder. You physically can’t. 

“Okay.”

Chapter Text

The first hour is gruesome and, needless to say, embarrassing. Don't you dare to hold back , you had told him, and by no means do you regret the demand. What you do, in fact, regret is agreeing to a one-on-one confrontation this soon into your training regimen, and with none other than Mikaela to boot.

He has never been given enough credit on how good a swordsman he is. The tips, tricks and stances he shares with you as an added bonus showcase a level greater than those of your peers and many of the swordsmen in the Moon Demon Company. Excluding Guren, of course. When you ask where he learned to be so skilled, Mikaela tells you the vampire queen, his sire, personally took him in as both his pet and student. 

It's as depictive of an insight into those four years as it's going to get, yet with so little you can already see it must have been hell on earth for him. 

He moves with such grace that not stopping to marvel at him feels like a waste. Taking your life wouldn't cost him a single breath. The swings of his sword rattle you to the core. His stance is strong, impossible to knock off balance even with your entire bodyweight. 

And yet all you have known when he touches you has been his most gentle side. You had completely forgotten he had it in him to be this powerful. He's a vampire, of course. Converted by none other than the vampire queen herself. 

He stops every once in a while to throw in some advice. "Again," he then says, not giving you a single second to interiorize the information before he's back against the clash of your weapon. Mikaela is taking the training with surprising seriousness. 

You get lost in time. Lunch must have passed well over by the time you finally break his momentum with a successful parry, granting you enough seconds to lift a leg and kick the sword out of his hand. You mark an end to the mock battle with the spikes of your fan aimed at his throat. Pants fly out of your dry lips, sweat gliding down your temples in beads. 

The snap of your head in his direction makes him flinch a small movement. He sees it in your eyes, the heavy questioning. 

“I wasn’t going easy on you," he reveals. "I swear.” 

You search for the trace of a lie. Even before training began, he stripped off his protective barriers and did not put them back on. You have witnessed enough of him bare throughout however long you've spent training and currently, you see the same openness in his stare.

He isn't lying. 

You punch the air, grin so wide on your face it forces your eyes to close. “Holy shit, yes! I disarmed a trained swordsman, baby!” You snap your fingers, hands swinging to the sides as you bask in a shrunken, though no less embarrassing, version of a victory dance. "Watch out, people. I'm coming in full force," you call out to the trees. 

You notice a bit too late that Mikaela has walked up to you, sword sheathed back on his waist. You were too busy celebrating to notice him make any type of action prior to this moment. "Oh." Through a grin, you push out a sound that reflects small laughter. "Thanks a ton, Mikaela. I really, really appreciate it."

Though there isn't the hint of a smile on his face, you can confirm without a shadow of a doubt that he looks pleased even so. His eyes hold softness like no other. Crimson irises have gone back to holding tender wine. 

“Are you content?” he asks. 

“I have ways to go, but the progress is promising.” 

His expression melts. Tenderness borders on brief sadness and disappointment. “When will you let me in again?” His voice reflects the same emotions. 

You get shocked into stillness, widened eyes scanning his face as your brain short-circuits in search of an answer. After some quiet stutters, your shoulders drop with a sigh and you settle on, “Mikaela, it’s not that simple.” 

“Why? We were just fine before." He steps forward, cutting more space. The desperation from before takes a hold of the steering wheel once again. "You pulled me in first, so why…?”

You know. Fucking hell, you know. And you gave him a hard time when he didn't answer back with the same feelings. You know. 

“I know," you say through your teeth, dropping your gaze in shame. "Shit, I know. And I’m sorry about that.”

As opposed to growth in anger, you get a diminished version of it, where hurt overpowers everything else. '“Don’t apologize," he says. "What are you even saying? That you regret it?”

Your eyes snap wide, and you angle your head up to lock with his piercing stare. “No! I…” The energy stumbles on doubt. Not of your answer, hell no , but of the words required to say it. 

Though it seems Mikaela takes it the wrong way. “You got tired of me?” he asks, sounding so defeated. 

“No," you push out, nearly running over his sentence in urgency. You cling back to his eyes the way he has done this whole time. "Fuck, no. I could never, okay? I… I want you a lot, and that’s the problem. The way we're headed… our paths will split sooner or later. I’m going to find Guren. I don’t know how that’ll turn out, but I don’t give a damn. Whether I die, or if I end up exploding or turning into an apocalyptic monster, I will find him. That's a goal I owe to myself. I have my past that I need to uncover, and for a while I rejected all of that because I…” You bite your lip and look down. Your heart quivers with unpleasant tingles. 

It hurts in all of the wrong ways. To admit to a personal desire out loud that you've given up on, that you know won't happen. 

“Shit, I… I actually thought I could have a future with you." Your voice gets breathy, laden with emotion. You shake your head. "...or something. I don’t even know what I’m saying. But your path is with Yuichiro. It always has been like that, and I can’t get in between your bond or promise that I’ll follow him just to be with you.” The sentence cracks. Tears well up in your eyes and you wipe them away with your arm. “God, this sucks.” 

The space between you gets heavier, thicker, making it impossible to breathe. Mikaela drowns in the silence for what feels eternal. You don't dare to look up at him. Hiding behind your arm offers more safety as you spill the tears out. 

“I will follow Yuichiro," he admits, sounding no less defeated. "And I can’t stop you from going after Guren. You’re right, this sucks." 

A part of you knew he would answer that. He gave four years of his life away, four years that cost him an entire lifetime, an entire eternity, to protect that boy. You wouldn't be so heartless as to expect him to throw all of that away for you. 

You know it in your heart, yet it still fucking hurts like hell. 

His fingers curl around your wrist, taking your arm down to reveal your eyes. "But I still want this with you," he continues. "For however long we’re allowed to.”

You can't believe what he's suggesting. To continue this? To stretch this out until the band breaks? Let the emotion grow until it stores itself at the center of your heart? You doubt it's the same for vampires, but heartbreak has killed humans before. 

Those eyes. They look at you, practically begging on their knees for you to let up, and, fuck , Mikaela doesn't need to work hard to convince you. Your will isn't as strong as you would want it to be. Mikaela has eased it through time, with every kiss and whispered word. 

“It will hurt," you choke out. "A whole lot. Once we split paths.”

“It will, but we don’t have to worry about that now.” 

Easy for him to say that. Humans think about the future a lot. It's how they've been wired since birth. If it's not education, it's a career, if not that, then a job, and a family after that, and if it’s not any of those, then a whole apocalypse and the extinction of the human race. 

Or the overwhelming feelings you have for a beautiful, blond vampire. You can only fall harder going onwards, so hard and low you doubt your own resolve to continue your own journey, or keep yourself from begging him to stay. 

“I…I don’t know.” You watch as the tip of his boots bump with yours, and you focus on them, because it's a given Mikaela's eyes would take up your sight were you to move your head. 

“I promise I won’t stop you from going after Guren,” he says. 

As if that would help your predicament. A plea from him would make it harder on you, but the worst obstacle you can encounter is your own resolve. If he shows you too much, gives too much, kisses too much, you won't have the strength to give him up. 

You're supposed to reciprocate his promise. Give him up to Yuichiro, even if it doesn't happen right away. 

But it already hurts, and you wonder how bad it'll be later on. 

Looking up to meet his gaze, swirling blood oceans cradle you with the barest parts of his soul. They show you that, for the briefest of moments, he's fully yours. 

With nerves of steel, you say, “And I promise to never stop you from following Yuichiro.” 

“Even if it costs us our lives.”

A shaky “yeah” snakes out of your mouth. You try to glance down again, feeling too exposed in your sadness, but Mikaela holds your cheek in his palm and takes you back to his eyes. You bump noses, and he eats you up from the outside, leaving you so bare you might as well be naked. 

You should cling to the scraps of happiness moments with him will feed you, but with the constant fear of what the future holds, will you be able to enjoy him? 

“Mika…" You swallow, trying not to break in front of him. You can feel the breath of your words bouncing between you and him. "I don’t want to suffer.”

His palm slides down to your neck, thumb stroking the skin with a cool touch. “Do you want to stop?” is spoken through a brush of lips over yours.

“You’re making it so hard.”

“Sorry…”

Your lids flutter. "No, you're not."

He kisses the words out of you and swallows them down, and before he can feed you his raw intentions, you're already throwing everything that belongs to you back at him; your heart, your pain, your very being. You open up, giving him the power to shatter you beyond repair. Tears slide down between your mouths, adding a taste of saltiness, but you don't deter. 

You slide your injured hand to the back of his neck, gripping the smooth curls on his nape despite the annoying prickles. The other one snakes under his arm and hangs on to his shirt like you'd melt away without the support. Your chests bind together, teeth knocking as you part your mouth and venture inside. 

The relationship has no future, yet you both hang on so desperately, like it whispered endless promises of something more. You're setting yourself up for heaps of torture. Lots of it. 

He pushes your name inside your mouth, and in turn you rattle to the core. Though his body is the epitome of unfeeling, he shows you with his lips what the rest of him cannot, and he gets it through. Your tear ducts won't shut down. He licks sweet nothings on your tongue as the tender brush of his thumbs wipe the droplets on your cheeks away. 

The kiss prolongs and ends, then, with the same intensity that skyrocketed on the very first brush of lips. Through half-lidded eyes, you watch each other, mixing breaths, yours much quicker than his. 

Brushing his mouth, you whisper, “I’m sorry I got us into this.”

He lands a petal of a kiss on you before leaning back to properly look at you whole. “Stop apologizing, silly.”  

You purse your lips and look off to the side with just the flicker of your eyes. 

Damn it all, you already don't want to give him away to anyone. Does Yuichiro even know how lucky he is? You still aren't sure you're capable enough to do this with maturity. 

Why? Why a vampire and not one of the many humans in your circle? 

Fate has a funny way of operating. 

"Hey." As if sensing your internal battle, Mikaela reels your attention and dips back in, blurring your thoughts with his mouth on yours again. Only a short couple of brushes later, which you aren't even able to return, he pulls back to say, "I missed your scent." 

You hum, partially drunk from his affection. "So I've noticed."

"You haven't eaten yet, have you?" He takes your hand after you've shaken your head. “Let’s go back."

He bends you easily. You're so intoxicated that Mikaela could tell you to jump off a bridge and you'd go without question. 

"...okay."

With a tender brush left behind on your cheek using the back of his finger, Mikaela laces his hand to yours and takes you along the path back to the village. Like a lost pup, you follow. 

His entire being steals your attention. From the gloved hand holding you to the blond waves on his head. He's dressed in the traditional white uniform Sanguinem vampires use, yet as you study him with so much fondness, you only see your gentle Mikaela. 

Back in the open plains leading up to the village, Mikaela releases your hand as soon as he catches Yoichi walking ahead of the group to meet up with the two of you.

“Mikaela, uh…" He looks bashful; worried, too, as he scratches the back of his head. "I was wondering if our blood was okay?”

The vampire does a one eighty at that moment. Iron walls fall over his eyes and his tone drops to colder degrees. “Yeah, it was gross, though.”

You elbow him. He doesn't turn a single look at you. 

A few paces behind Yoichi, the group stands huddled together. Shinoa's voice can be heard the loudest as she claps her cheeks in what you can only assume is staged surprise. “That can’t be right! That bottle had the pure and sweet blood of a virgin in it!" Holding her chin in between two fingers, she murmurs to the ground. "Then it’s possible that the tainted blood of the unchaste somehow got in there too!” 

She freaks out on Mitsuba, who then shrills, “What’re you looking at me for?!

Mikaela is far from amused by the display, and you can tell Yuichiro doesn't buy it either. 

Shinoa's attitude flips in one go, similar to the way Mikaela's did with Yoichi, and swerves back to the group. “Anyway, setting aside the topic of Mitsu’s chastity…”

The blonde raises a fist. “I am so going to kill you someday!”

“Now that we’ve healed and regrouped," Shinoa continues. "It’s about time we had a discussion about our future plans. Mitsu! Mind providing a summary of our situation?” She tops the petition off with a toothy grin. 

Said girl only grunts under her breath. “Whatever. Let’s see. We know that the Imperial Demon Army used Yuu, Yoichi, Kimizuki…” Your name is added as well. “... along with Kimizuki’s sister in some kind of freaky experiment. Second, we know the Hiragiis have no qualms about killing off allies for the sake of their objectives. Approaching them would be very dangerous. However, being on the run forever just isn’t possible. The Demon Army won’t let up on their pursuit. Us being here only puts the villagers in danger."

Yuichiro crosses his arms, expression serious. A once in a lifetime miracle, actually. “Then we should leave. We can’t let these people get caught up in our crap.” 

Oh, so now he's somewhat smart, too? 

Makoto adds, “Okay, so we run. To where? Going overseas isn’t a possibility. We have a chance to fight back as long as we have these.” He pulls out of his back pocket a case with round pills of white color. 

You ran out of your curse stimulant pills on Nagoya. Now that you think about it, it definitely added to the issue of your decreasing strength. You had forgotten they even existed. The fact that Makoto has saved up a few is no surprise. 

“But once we run out it’s game over. And let’s not forget Yuu’s situation. Only the Demon Army could give him the medical care he needs, which means we might as well turn ourselves in.”

Mikaela's glare turns scarlet red. “No way. I’m not surrendering him to the humans.”

The gaze Makoto tosses back is sharp. “If you can’t save him yourself then keep your fangy mouth shut.” 

You join Mikaela on a piercing look directed at Makoto, then Yuichiro tries to intervene with his crap. "Don't worry about me!" he starts, but Makoto doesn't let him finish, going on a tangem about his dead comrades and how he wants to honor each and every one of those losses. 

It's the type of mindfulness Yuichiro has yet to learn about. He's quick to disregard what is past the view surrounding him. And you're almost sure he doesn't do it on purpose, but rather, for lack of being taught. Still, you can't help but get pissed off over it. 

Then Kimizuki adds his grain of salt. “Let’s not forget the Demon Army has my sister. I will do anything to save her, and that includes betraying you if necessary.”

You huff, crossing your arms. “What a nice, nontoxic family situation we’re having, guys.” 

“Guren cried…” Yuichiro thinks out loud, urging the click of your tongue in response. 

“Again with that crap?” through narrowed eyes, you snap. 

“If we could find some way to meet up with him.”

Oh, on second thought…you can get by with that plan.

Mikaela eyes him warily. “Yuu.”

Shinoa raises her palm, stating a clear negative. “No, I’m vetoing that.”

You poke out your finger to grab some attention. “I second that, though.” You do not want to run up to Guren for a hug, that's for sure, but meeting him is a definite must. 

Makoto shakes his head. “We’re going in circles here." Brown eyes move over to Mikaela. "Vampire, do you have any options to offer?” 

Mikaela looks stunned for a moment, but he doesn't let the opportunity slide. “There was a vampire who also took part in the Seraph Of The End experiments. The vampire queen. I think we can trust her. But she was captured by other vampires and I haven’t heard from her since. Trying to rescue her might be our less complicated option.” 

“Are you saying vampires are less dangerous than humans?” Makoto questions. 

“Yes," Mikaela answers like it was an irrefutable fact. "Vampires don’t care about humanity. Only about power-hungry individuals.” 

A plan to search for Guren would have been your favored option, but you won't oppose Mikaela's suggestion either. As you all are, there's no hope of any of you confronting Guren and taking charge of… anything, really. Whether that’s a duel or conversation, he’d walk over you without breaking a sweat. Mikaela trusts the queen, somewhat, and you trust Mikaela's judgment more than anyone else in the group. 

“I second that," you say. 

Makoto hums, though is far from enthusiastic. “I’ll have to agree as well. Humans are dangerous. Can’t really defend the Demon Army in that regard.” 

“Well, then," Shinoa takes the word with a placid smile on her face. "It seems we have settled on a new goal.”

Mikaela looks surprised yet again, like he hadn't expected to be heard. Past experiences have denied him a voice more than once and the whole team is known for their hot-headedness. 

Yuichiro turns a wide grin at him. You can already imagine what he's telling the blond. See, Mika? They like you!

"Are you sure about this?" you ask Mikaela in murmurs to keep the rest from hearing over their loud exchange. "The last time we fought vampires it didn't go well."

"I'm not so happy with our options, but Guren is the most dangerous of all enemies and I will die on that hill."

“Hang on a sec." Yuichiro drags everyone's attention to him, green eyes lost in the far distance. "Do any of you hear something weird?”

Yoichi places his palms on the back of his ears. “I don’t hear anything.”

The expression on Mikaela's face tenses. “I do. A car engine.”

That can only mean terrible news. Who else would drive here purposely other than those searching for you? 

Makoto and Kimizuki exclaim at the same time, “What?!”

Shinoa flips her arm. “Yoichi, find high ground!”

Yoichi runs off. The rest of the group panics. You look past them, at the villagers going about their ordinary day without knowing of what's to possibly come. From the corner of your eye, you catch Mikaela nearing Yuichiro, still dumbfounded as a whole. 

“Yuu," he calls. "You could hear that? That isn’t normal for a human.”

Not a thought reveals in those emerald greens as Yuichiro glances back at the vampire. He flexes his fingers, then comments like it was the most casual piece of information, “I do feel a little stronger now that you mention it.” 

Mikaela knits his brows together in concern. “Crap, you really are turning into a demon.”

Yuichiro's reaction is the opposite of what's expected from a sane person and nevertheless unsurprising. He clenches his fists in excitement, grin broad on his face. “Cool! I can protect everyone now!”

Mikaela recedes to a stoic character. His shoulders slump forward with invisible weight. “What the hell, Yuu?” is a monotone remark. 

You huff, rolling your eyes. “Don’t waste your breath, Mikaela. He’s stupid.” 

“It’s him! ” Yoichi calls from a distance, demon bow drawn out, placed before his eyes as if it was a pair of binoculars. 

Makoto clenches his teeth. “Who?”

“The vampire who kidnapped Aoi!”

Your heart flips over in your chest, urging the feeling of bending as your knees buckle in a moment of weakness. Your blood freezes during the shock, but anger like no other sizzles it to a crisp until there's only fury burning in your chest. 

“Ferid,” you growl under your breath. 

“Along with the red haired noble we fought in Nagoya!” adds Yoichi. 

You remember that vampire. He was there, chilling as you fought your guts out trying to slice even a hair on his head. You could have been killed on the spot, sucked dried of your blood, but he was only buying Ferid some time for whatever reason. 

Through a snarl, Mikaela says, “They’re probably the ones who captured the queen.”

Shinoa walks up to Mikaela, urgency coiling her whole demeanor. “But why come here?!”

“I’m just as clueless," he answers. "But I can assure you we want nothing to do with them.”

You huff a sinister chuckle. The pull of Karkodan's demonic aura is rather inviting. “You sure? Maybe I want to have a go at him for old time’s sake.”

The hand Shinoa smacks on your shoulder, making you flinch, screams her refusal. “We run," she states her order. You weren't being entirely truthful, but it would seem Shinoa saw enough resolve in your eyes to worry. "That isn’t debatable. We can’t put the village at risk.”

Time is scarce. You all run back to the shacks to pick up no more than what's truly esencial: a medical kit and battle essentials. It's a shame that you can't thank the village properly. From what you catch, Shinoa runs up to the tent of the chief and scurries out less than a minute later. The villagers outside of their homes can only watch as the entire squad leaves the place you were all able to call home for a few precious weeks without throwing one goodbye over your shoulders. 

Breathless, Makoto says while looking straight ahead, “Based on past experiences, I can already tell this won’t end up good.” His eyes flicker a look towards Mikaela, who's running only a couple of steps behind him.“Seventh progenitor, right? And I think the other one was number thirteen.”

You clench your swinging fists. “I fought him. If he hadn’t been toying with me, he would have killed me on the first sweep.” 

The truck is within distance. You hope to hit the gas at full speed and leave the village behind in a matter of seconds. Once that is accomplished, you will figure out what to do next. 

The muscles on the back of your healed leg sting the slightest bit. You haven't run like this in a while. 

Yuichiro appears thoughtful even though the urgency of the circumstances doesn't leave any time to spare, but of course he flies his own cloud. “That night," he murmurs to none other than the blond beside him. "Ferid let me escape on purpose. Right, Mika?”

He nods. “Everything was planned, Yuu.” 

You figure he means the same night the two of them got separated, when Mikaela got turned into a vampire and the rest of the Hyakuya family was assassinated on the spot. 

“We’ll be okay, you guys," Shinoa says loudly, so it reaches everyone. "As long as we’re together–”

Interrupting her sentence, the familiar vampire of colorful hair, the thirteenth progenitor, Crowley, if you remember correctly, blows a hole on the ground with his arrival. A small display of his power, you can only assume. 

He brushes some dirt off his shoulder and peers at the group with a nonchalant smile, the same unsettling one he was wearing last time and any other day you’ve seen him. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?” casually, he comments, then moves faster than the normal human eye can detect. 

You swirl around, snapping your head in many directions. It's already too late when you catch blonde pigtails swaying in the air. 

Mitsuba has been struck. The team cries out her name. 

Bow drawn out, Yoichi halts the sprint alongside Kimizuki and takes a battle stance. “We will save you!”

The plan has already gone to shit. You grab Karkodan from your belt and skid to a halt. 

Mitsuba lands belly down on the ground, and while you expected her to lay still, she lifts her head with as much surprise as the rest of the team watching her. 

Crowley's intentions are clear. They don't want any of you dead. At least not yet. 

The only one who doesn't spare a second's worth of time to celebrate Mitsuba's well being is Mikaela. “He’s stalling us here until Ferid arrives."

The same as before. You huff a breath. “Old habits die hard.”

“This is not worth it." Mikaela flips desperate eyes over to Yuichiro, whose hand already rests on the hilt of his sword. "It’s not worth risking your life, Yuu.”

“What are you suggesting, Mika?" he responds in all seriousness, returning the given look with an icy stare. "That we leave them behind?”

He doesn't think twice about saying, “If that’s the best option.” Pools of red lock with your stare, and already with a heavy heart, you force the muscles on your neck to shake your head in the negative. 

“Our paths would split right here and now should you choose to go.”

Mikaela instantly looks conflicted. The urge to convince you is at the tip of his tongue, it looks like, but he follows his promise and seals his lips. 

Luckily, you know Yuichiro will join your side on this one. “We’re not running, Mika. I ran once, and look where that has gotten us.”

You ran once, too. And it cost you Aoi's life. 

Mikaela's resolve falters, half-lidded red eyes flickering to the ground in shame. “That was my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t," Yuichiro ressures. His whole demeanor works to get the message through to Mikaela. "Last time, you did it alone. Now we’ll do it together. All of us. Please, Mika.”

"What's your plan?" he asks. 

A toothy grin is all Yuichiro gives back before he turns to face Crowley, the latter having made quick work of your comrades already. 

“We’re not fighting you, Crowley!" he exclaims. "I surrender myself to you!”

Your jaw slacks. "What the actual hell, Yuu?” He doesn't look back. You search for an explanation in Mikaela, but he's just as clueless and unsure. The only difference is that he has surrendered all intent to fight against Yuichiro's decision. 

A sports car rides up to the scene, and Yuichiro dodges in the nick of time, a superhuman action that would not have been carried out had his senses not allowed him to detect the movement early. 

Silver hair tied into a low ponytail with a bow, the fancy cravat, the vampire uniform, that mischievous smirk; you recognize every wretched feature of the vampire sitting at the front wheel. 

“Hello, besties!" as noisy as ever, he speaks in a way that leans towards singing. "Don’t run away! I heard you were being attacked by a nasty vampire and came to the rescue.”

Who is he trying to fool? Besides Yuichiro, that is. 

Crowley huffs a breath. “Ferid," is a monotone call on his part. "They surrendered.”

Smiling, Ferid looks between his companion and the group. “Huh? Already?”

Yuichiro retains grimness. His bangs shield his eyes, making it impossible to guess what he could be thinking until the tilt of his head reveals a couple of fiery emeralds. “We want the same thing, right? I don’t mind partnering up with you.”

For the briefest of moments, you believed he had a plan. The expectation, however, was too much of it, you realize. 

You stomp up to the boy and drag his face towards you with a tight grip on the collar of his uniform jacket. “Do you even care what anyone else thinks about this? He killed Aoi!”

He stays calm. “We won’t win in a fight against him. Our choices are limited.” A loose touch curls over your palm, and you let him go, not because his argument convinced you, but because experience has taught you that trying to reason with him is wasted air.

Grumbling curses to the air, you flip your stare back to Ferid. Late into his endeavor, you catch him opening the trunk at the back of his car. 

What the hell is he up to now? You spread your fan open on instinct.

Yuichiro continues, “If you give us information, I will cooperate. We can help eachother out.”

“Are you saying you’d forgive everything I’ve done to you?” Ferid sounds amused, like he isn't taking it seriously. 

All the more reason for you to mutter, “No.”

However, Yuichiro responds, “If necessary…”

You click your tongue at him. Is Guren worth more to him than the slaughter of his original family?

Ferid chuckles a sultry sound. “Can you say that to poor Akane’s face?” 

The world has shown you insane shit throughout your lifetime, yet nothing could have mentally prepared you to witness the preserved head of a little girl floating inside a container. 

You twist a grimace. “The fuck is wrong with your head?” you spit out. 

Yuichiro clutches his chest, head dipped down, obscuring the view of his eyes. “Ah shit," he murmurs through heaving breaths. "Mika, this is bad.” Tremors override his muscles. Yuichiro snaps his head forward and snarls, “I will kill you!”

Mikaela walks up to him, ignoring the dangers, and grasps both of his shoulders. “Yuu, you have to fight it!”

“I will kill you…” he murmurs, to Ferid or Mikaela, you aren't sure. His knees bend and he collapses on them. All movement in his body stills, and his eyes get lost on the horizon without proper focus. You know that look. It's possible he's back in his demon's realm. 

"My, my," Ferid sings. “Quite the predicament we’ve found ourselves in. You can’t hope to stop him, but I can…" He pulls out a syringe. "With this drug.”

Your clutch on Karkodan is knuckle-white. You should have seen that coming from a mile away. Mikaela has warned everyone of his manipulative tendencies. "What's the catch?"

“None! I came here to be your bestie, after all.” His ruby eyes freeze you on the spot. Not over fear, far from it, but for the sole fact of having Aoi's killer in front of you and knowing the chances of beating him are null. Ferid picks up the head of Akane and tosses it over to Yoichi like he was handling a rag doll. "Careful with that. If the glass breaks, Akane will rot away." 

Tension scrunches Yoichi's whole face. 

Silver hair sways with the wind as Ferid crosses an imaginary catwalk on his way to Yuichiro and Mikaela. 

The blond vampire steps in front of his family and draws out his blade. “You stay away from him!" he barks. 

Ferid brushes him off with a chuckle. “I’m just trying to help, Mika dear.”

“Back off!” He pounces forward, but Crowley intercepts with his sword before Mikaela can reach Ferid. The stronger vampire keeps him busy with his superior skills. 

You can only watch as Ferid walks over to Yuichiro. The rest of the team has yet to act out. Confronting him on your own would amount to nothing. 

But, damn, as if the desire wasn't already burning alive… 

“This is the exact drug Guren is taking,” he explains to the boy kneeled before him. 

You're almost convinced Guren tweaked Yuichiro's head, because the boy reacts to the sound of his name like it had been coded in his brain. It's actually freaky. 

“So you do know him!" Yuichiro exclaims, lunging at him with his sword in hand. "Tell us everything!”

All too easily, Ferid snatches a hold of his arm, stopping the blade mid-swing, and shoves the syringe through his back with the other hand. When Yuichiro drops to the ground, you're almost convinced that Ferid killed him. In the distance, you hear Mikaela growling. 

Ferid is an exhausting presence. And the sickening smile he wears on his face makes you want to punch it out of him.

You sprint at him, Karkodan in your hold, awakened. “I have had it with you!” 

Ferid twists around, looking down on you like he had spotted a kitten on the street. “Oh, I remember you," nonchalantly, he comments. 

“You better remember me!”

“Poor, poor little Aoi.”

Your blood fucking seethes. The curse of your weapon activates and you spur Karkodan's energy into action. He feeds on your anger, feeds on your desire to slice off Ferid's head. “You fucker!”

The power coursing through you feels like it could have been enough, yet in the flash of a second you're hanging from the clutches of his hand on your neck. Your airways clog just enough to give you a hard time. You dawdle between breathing and suffocation, meek and helpless before the grin you wanted to wipe off his face only moments ago. 

His palm burns despite offering a cool touch. Your nails slide down his sleeves without inflicting a dent on his skin. He doesn't waver in the face of your struggle. You're a bunny trying to bite her way out of a wolf's jaw. 

Your teammates scream your name, though they're only muffled sounds underneath the thundering beats of your pulse. 

Ferid is a seventh progenitor. No one can do anything to help you. 

He chuckles. “It’s quite an honor to finally meet dear Mika’s personal blood bag. I have been dying to have a sip for myself.”

You feel his breaths on your neck and your heart stops.

“How good must you be…" he continues, enjoying the small torture. "that Mika’s scent swarms you whole–?” The last word disintegrates into a whimper. Before your widened eyes, Ferid's face freezes on a single expression of shock. You look down and gasp with what little air you have inside. 

Mikaela's hand shows itself bloody and tense from an opening he carved through the center of Ferid's chest. 

“Let her go," he warns, and for a moment you don't recognize your precious Mikaela. "...if you know what’s good for you.” 

Sinister as ever, the fucking bastard, Ferid swims through the pain with chuckles. “Mika dear, to this very day you don’t know how to take a joke.”

His upper lip twitches and draws back, pushing the tight clutch of his fangs out. “I’m not repeating myself.” He's coiled in so tight every muscle in his body shakes, voice included. "Release her, dammit!" 

“Okay, okay," Ferid continues the gleeful charade. "No need to be so aggressive. There.” His hold loosens and you drop to the ground. The little air you had gathered escapes you in a flash, and you cough out in a frenzy. “Mika, you can let go now.”

Ferid's toying with him. There's no way he couldn't have kicked Mikaela off himself. He's testing how far you'd be willing to go for each other. 

The wound should hurt him like hell, and still he let it happen. The sick bastard. You're not liking any of this. And worst of all, Mikaela's devouring the bait. 

"Mika…" Ferid sings. 

You struggle to your feet and move behind Mikaela. 

“Try this again and you’re dead," the blond warns, meaning every word, even when he lacks factual support. "I swear on my life.”

"Okay, okay," he laughs, partially mocking. 

Mikaela pulls out aggressively, forcing Ferid on his knees. You don't block the satisfaction of watching red droplets coming out of every cough Ferid spits to the ground. The edges of your lips quirk up. 

The swift motion of Mikaela's turn makes you flinch. Where there was once fire in lively flecks now resides sunset red gazing back at you, knitted brows crowning them. 

“Did he hurt you?” He moves his clean hand up to cradle your cheek. His pupils dart in many directions, checking your state. 

“I’m…" You swallow, both stunned and embarrassed. "I'm okay.”

A light frown washes over his face as he retreats his hand. “That was reckless.”

"I know," you sigh, peering down. “I just hate him a lot.”

He nods. “Me too.”

Ferid's laugh interrupts the moment. “I will never understand how you can get so attached to humans, Mika.” 

Mikaela swirls around, extended arm ensuring you remain behind him. “Whatever you’re plotting, we don’t want any part in it.”

Blood drips out of the hole carved through his chest, yet Ferid doesn't seem to give a single damn about it. “My plot? I’m only here on Guren’s behalf.”

Just like that, he grabs your whole attention.

Chapter Text

“I don’t understand, Shinoa. Why the hell did we agree to climb on a bus with those two?” You glance to the front. Ferid is already looking back, and he raises his gloved hand to wave at you with a disturbing grin, sadistic as it is staged. 

“Hi!” he exclaims, singing the word. 

The grip you have on either arm crossed over your chest doubles in strength. Nevermind the pain. You coil into your seat, scowling through a show of clenched teeth. “Bastard’s a total creep.” 

You wish the driver, Crowley, would hit the brakes full stop to punish Ferid’s idea of lounging about in the back with the squad just to give you a hard time throughout the ride. You don’t even know what the destination is. 

It’s even more embarrassing that Shinoa gave the order to not put up a fight, suggesting to team up with them instead. 

Shinoa nudges your shoulder, a wordless notice to keep your thoughts to yourself. “For starters,” she says, voice low in volume. “There’s no way we could have beat them and escaped. Not only are they stronger, they’re also faster. Also, they have a hostage, even though she’s not alive.” Amber eyes steer to the seat across from where the two of you sit. 

Yoichi resides there with the head of Akane inside a crystal container, Mitsuba sitting beside him. They’re trying to keep it out of sight for when Yuichiro –hopefully– wakes up. Unless whatever the hell Ferid injected into him did more harm than good. 

Shinoa looks back at you and adds, “In our current state, we couldn’t have afforded to run. Yuichiro requires medicine and we need information on the Seraph Of The End project.”

“You don’t get it,” Mikaela’s voice resonates from the back seat. “Ferid is manipulating us. We’re doing exactly what he wants us to do.” He holds Yuichiro close with an arm wrapped across the back of his shoulders. You find it unfair how Yuichiro appears to be peacefully sleeping while the rest of you have no choice but to deal with the two pricks in charge of the whole ordeal. 

Makoto twists around in his seat to catch Mikaela’s red stare. “Come on, he can’t be that smart,” he says, like Ferid wasn’t standing mere feet away, listening in on everything with his superhuman hearing. “Besides, it’s not like we had any other option. You heard what Shinoa said.” 

The heels of Ferid’s boots stomp against the floor of the vehicle on his way to the young man. “Makoto Narumi, right? Just like with little Akane, I’ve made sure to carefully collect all four of your friends and pack them away in cute jars.” His eyes glint with sickening mischievousness. You want to plug them out with a fork. The shit-eating grin, too. 

Mikaela sighs, already used to the ordeal. “I told you.”

When Ferid flips a glance in your direction, you flinch. An uncomfortable prickle settles in your stomach. “And how could I ever forget about little Aoi? She’s in safe hands as well.”

Your eyes widen. 

“He has more hostages." Vile washes over Mikaela's tone as he says it. 

Your attention centers on Ferid, and it’s like the rest of your surroundings go dark. The particular name echoes in your head, that disgusting, pitchy voice dressing it. You don’t know what kind of face you might be making, but the muscles surrounding your jaw are so tight they’ve quickly gone numb. 

“What did you just say?” leaves you amidst shaky breaths. He trapped Aoi inside a jar? The girl you thought long gone is in the hands of this manipulative asshole? Your cheeks get hot with ire. You spring off your seat, hand fastened on your weapon. “You are so dead, I swear–” 

You don’t make it very far. Kimizuki holds you back from your shirt and forces your ass onto the seat beside him. You pull your fan out either way, prepared to strike if need be. 

Ferid isn’t the least bit affected by your display. Chuckling, he walks up to you, dismissing the rage on your face with a loose smile. “Now, now, is that any way to treat the one who will possibly give them a second chance at life? They can all be revived in the near future! Getting all of Aoi’s body parts was hard labor, you have no idea.”

Crowley glances through the rearview mirror. “ I recovered them,” he mentions, though seems far from affected despite the lack of credit. 

Aoi was squashed beneath metal beams and chunks of rubble. You don’t want to imagine the sight. Instead of letting that place be her tombstone, Ferid retrieved her without permission; took her eternal peace away from her. 

Narumi smacks his fisted hand over his thigh. “What have you done?!” Just like you, he’s bound to the knowledge that neither one of you can inflict a punch or dent on Ferid. 

“Bastard,” you hiss through clenched teeth. “I fucking hate you.” 

Kimizuki knocks your head with a harmless smack using the side of his hand. “Shut up and let him talk.” He sets his eyes on Ferid. “You were going to tell us about the experiments, right?”

“Of course! I understand you must be worried sick over your sister. Let’s just wait a couple of seconds for dear Yuu to wake up.” 

Every pair of eyes jerk to the back seat. On cue with the snap of Ferid’s fingers, Yuichiro blinks into wakefulness. A smile breaks out across the faces of your teammates, some letting out a gasp of relief. Mikaela’s posture loses the tension it had accumulated during the hours Yuichiro spent in slumber, and his stare softens as he looks at the boy. Shinoa leaves her spot to walk to the back and greet him properly. 

You, on the other hand, have too much anger stored in you to care. “Okay, cool. He’s awake. Now talk.”

“Give him some time to breathe. The information is for his ears as well, after all.” 

You set your jaw, hating the way Ferid looks at you like he wasn’t the cause of so many misfortunes. 

“Sorry, Mika,” you hear Yuichiro say at the back of the vehicle. “I went berserk again.”

“It’s not your fault, Yuu.” Without looking behind you, it’s evident Mikaela is smiling. 

“Where’s Akane?”

A short pause lies in between answers. Mikaela then says, “Somewhere you can’t see her.”

“He says she can be revived,” Shinoa comments in a low tone of voice. 

You leer as Ferid walks past you, heading to the last row of seats. “Good morning! How do you feel?”

Yuichiro furrows his brows. “My demon is quiet. The drug you used is working.”

“Where’s my thank you?” he sings, standing with his hands propped on either side of his waist. It’s evident he doesn’t take any of you seriously, and you despise that he’s in his right to feel that way, because neither of you have the power to do anything about it.

“Do you have the bodies of the rest of my family?” Yuichiro asks. 

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“My mansion.”

“Can you really revive them?”

Mikaela sucks in a breath. “Yuu…”

Ferid’s laugh booms across the scene. “So you are interested.”

“No.” Yuichiro’s answer doesn’t show a trace of emotion, though you are inclined to believe he will eventually eat everything Ferid has to offer like a thirsty man in a desert. “You’re a liar, but I’ll listen to what you have to say about Guren. What’s he caught up in? What’s haunting him?”

“My, my, such devotion.” He looks at you. “Where’s yours?”

“I don’t give a damn about his pain. Just tell me where he is.” 

He grins. “Then let me tell you all a little story, given that it involves the Seraph Of The End experiment as well. To answer your question, dear Yuu. He is haunted by his precious friends and their deaths. Shinya Hiragii, the members of his squad and…” He hums to the ceiling, pointer finger tapping his chin. The red eyes that suddenly dart back to you incite a chill in your body, and just as quickly, he returns his attention to the rest, leaving you to drown in your own questions and worries. “There’s also this one other person I can’t quite pinpoint by name or face. They all died eight years ago.” 

The grin on Shinoa’s face is unstable as she tries to laugh it off.  “What? T-that can’t be right.”

She's correct…because you’ve seen them walk through the hallways of the Moon Demon Company Headquarters. You’ve interacted with them on multiple occasions. They have given you orders on the battlefield. You couldn’t have been talking to ghosts…or were you? 

Your skin crawls. 

“They were dead, dead, dead,” Ferid continues. “And then they were revived. Their return came at the price of a catastrophe we’re all familiar with by now. All of the adult humans in the world were killed by a deadly virus in the year 2012. The deaths of so many people is what’s haunting your precious Guren Ichinose.”

The silence grows thicker, and it dominates inside the bus until you tear through it with laughter you aim at the ceiling. “You know, out of all the crap you’ve been spouting since your arrival, I’ve had an easier time believing this.” 

Your mentor has always had an unhealthy kind of attachment towards others, which reminds you an awful lot about Yuichiro. Maybe that’s how the connection between them sprouted, now that you think about it.  

“Tell us more,” Yuichiro demands. 

“Where would the fun be in that? I’d be easier to understand if I showed you where it started.”

You arch a brow. “And that place is?”

“A surprise, of course!”

You jolt to your feet, fighting the pull of Kimizuki’s grasp on your shirt. “Just one swing. One swing, I swear.” 

“Absolutely not. Sit your ass down.” 

The sound of Ferid’s chuckle stirs your insides out of place. “I thought you’d be delighted to know little Aoi has been stored away for safekeep.” 

“Are you even listening to yourself? How the hell would that make me happy?” 

“You’ll have the opportunity to see her again. Not as she is right now, of course. Her body was mangled under the pipes, after all, but once she’s revived, you absolutely can! You will have the chance to apologize for your incompetence and get rid of your guilt!”

“Ferid,” Mikaela warns. 

You can’t believe the audacity of this vampire. His attitude doesn’t make any of it easier to digest. You are fucking seething. “I hate you with all my being.” 

He takes his dominating presence up to you, dousing you in his shadow. Kimizuki becomes tense beside you, probably fearful of your possible reaction to the taunts. “Aw, don’t be like that, sweetie. I’m trying to become your friend here!” He leans his cunning smile forward, shoving it to your face. A sinister spark overtakes his eyes. “Tell me something. Does being friends entail that I, too, get to have daily sips of your blood–?” 

The movement of his hand is halted midway into the journey, unable to reach your cheek. Mikaela’s tight clutch trembles around Ferid’s wrist. His lips are pulled back, showing the look of a dog growling at a stranger. Slit pupils sink into the depths of fiery red eyes.

“Back off.” His tone is dark and laden with threat, though it evokes the opposite on Ferid, who only smirks back. 

“I didn’t know I was dealing with property of yours, dear Mikaela.”

“She is no one's property.”

“Then surely I can’t be stopped from brushing a stray hair off of her face.”

You scowl. “Permission denied.”

“You heard her.” 

“A pity, truly,” Ferid sighs, shrugging. “Will you let go? Or do you want me to cut your limb off myself?”

You don’t need a second warning. “Mikaela.”

Reluctantly, he obeys, though not without a final squeeze of warning. Mikaela doesn't inch a step back once he releases Ferid, angry crimsons zeroing on a dimmer, more amused version of the same color. 

“How loyal you’ve become, Mika dear," Ferid chuckles. "I wonder what Krul will think of this.”

“Shut up." Mikaela snarls, unmoving, while Ferid relaxes with his weight tilting the side of his hip outward. You're right in between the exchange, wandering in no man's land, receiving all of the energy being shot from both sides. 

Yuichiro raises his arm like a kid in class, drawing every pair of eyes his way. “I have something important to say." A tentative moment of silence follows in which everyone looks with expectation. Then, he says, "I need to pee.”

You huff. Of course it'd be something along those lines. Even so, you're thankful for the interruption of what could have been a battle already lost. 

You're surprised that the two vampires, the strangest pair of capturers you've ever seen, agree to stop the bus. Looking out through the window, you see a building that appears to have been a place for travelers to stop by, as you're currently on the road amidst plains of nothingness. 

Yuichiro scurries out of the bus and makes a beeline for what you guess is the men's restroom inside. 

Makoto jerks to his feet as if an idea struck him. “Actually, I need to use the restroom, too.” He’s off behind Yuichiro. 

Kimizuki rises next. “And me.”

Mikaela follows. “I’ll go too.”

“Mika dear," chuckles Ferid, earning himself another glare from the blond on his way out. "Vampires don’t use restrooms.”

Regardless, Mikaela steps out and walks after the trio of men. 

“I-I’m going too." Yoichi joins them last. 

From inside the bus, you catch the glance Kimizuki sneaks past his shoulder in a wordless call for you girls to join as soon as you're able to. 

You exchange glances with Mitsuba. Then Shinoa comes up in between the seats and leans down to have her mouth closer to both yours and Mitsuba's ears. She whispers, “We can use this chance to discuss our next course of action. Yuu has given us a great opportunity.”

You scoff the sound of a sarcastic laugh. “Don’t think for a moment he intended to do this.” 

Shinoa and Mitsuba walk the corridor towards the exit. You follow after them, until a pair of hands smack your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks while the two girls touch solid land, unaware of your obstacle. 

“You’re an interesting little human, you know that?" Ferid's words shoot into your ear, smirk brushing against the flesh. "Even though there’s hardly anything special about you.”

An instinct makes you reel away, but his grasp on you limits your movement. The front of his body presses into you from behind. You can only recoil, teeth clenching with a mix of fear and disgust. 

In front, you hear the slice of metal through the air. Both girls caught wind of the situation and have taken their weapons out, tense expressions firing daggers back at the face leant into the hollow of your neck. 

You raise a hand to stop them. Their efforts would be wasted energy either way. They can't hope to beat a seventh progenitor even with the entire team present. It's a given Ferid only wants to taunt. You can't think of a reason why he'd want to kill you now. 

He continues, “Poor little you has been sucked into a world that demands more than what you’re capable of offering.” 

You should know by now not to bite into what he says. Ferid's a manipulator. It's been proven time and time again, yet your heart still jumps into your throat and, voice shaky, you ask, “What are you talking about?”

He ignores your question, instead breathing in your scent, nose touching your neck with a sigh he releases from his lips. “...and your blood. I don’t smell anything special about it. Frankly, children’s blood suits my palate better, but I can only wonder what Mika sees in it. I want so badly to try it for myself.” 

When you feel the length of his nose pressed into your skin, your muscles jolt into action. You raise your hand. To slap him, perhaps? You barely have the time to think about it, but Ferid seizes your wrist in a split second. He runs his tongue across your neck, painfully slow, leaving a wet stripe you acknowledge with a gasp. 

On top of being a vampire, a creep and a manipulator, he's also a predator…just your luck. 

You know you're strong, but Ferid makes you feel like a damsel in distress. 

“Sadly," he resumes. "We both know how he would react if I were to do it, and I don’t want to risk accidentally killing him in a fight.” He encourages you forward with a push on your back. You don't need to be told twice for you to walk the hell away from him. 

This vampire is a total nutjob. 

You join the girls, who with a final glare in the vampire's direction decide among themselves to escort you between them on the short journey to the restrooms, just in case he gets any other twisted ideas. 

The glass windows are shattered, their pieces lying on the ground. Inside, you see that the store has been raided of its items. The shelves and refrigerators are empty, the floors dirty with dried stains of mud. 

You follow the girls to the corridor split into two different paths, one leading to the girls' restroom while the other to the boys’. Idle murmurs can be heard from their section, though instead of joining them like you thought you would, Shinoa veers off to the girl's room. 

The two of you follow your leader without question, thinking she might want to relieve herself or talk among just the females. You need the break either way, because Ferid's tongue is still a memory that lingers on your neck. Even as you wipe your sleeve across the assaulted spot again and again, the feeling doesn't leave. 

The ghost of his touch haunts your shoulders. You remember vividly the shape of his chest pressed behind you. The mere thought of it repulses you. 

You strike the sink with your fists. “Damn it! There isn’t any water.” 

“Of course there isn’t," Mitsuba answers as she comes from the back. On the mirror, you see her approaching with her hands on her waist. "What else were you expecting?” 

Nothing. You were expecting nothing and still, the fact that there isn't any water irks you. 

“I feel so gross!” you complain for lack of a better thought in your head. You scowl at your reflection, narrowed eyes stuck on your neck. “That fucker is insane. Absolutely insane.”

Mitsuba doesn't comment further. She stops beside Shinoa, who's fixing up her hair. “I checked the back of the building. It’s clear.”

She chuckles, her hand twiddling with a loose strand of purple hair. “Is that your excuse? I bet you just dropped one out. Stinky.”

Mitsuba growls. “Grow the hell up. We don’t have time to play your stupid games.”

You part ways with your reflection to look at the girls. “So what you're saying is…we can run for the back exit.”

“Do you think we’d be able to escape?" Shinoa asks. "Be honest.”

Those vampires have ten times your speed. They're faster than Mikaela, stronger, too. And Ferid could lop off your heads in a split second like he was slicing butter. Yuichiro would surely turn psycho with his demonic side and blow up half of the terrain. You've gotten better with your weapon, but the sad truth is that it'll be a while before you get to where you once were. 

A lost cause, sadly. 

“No,” you grumble, glaring down in defeat.

“He also has a lot of juicy, important information dangling in front of our noses." Her chuckle is sarcastic in nature as she shakes her head. "That vampire sure is a clever one.”

You scoff. “He’s a geezer with too much time on his hands.”

Shinoa's amused smile drops suddenly. A few seconds pass in which she appears to think. Then, she asks, “Do you girls believe in his story?”

Mistuba looks at her. “About Lieutenant Guren? Dunno…”

You cross your arms and lean into the sink. “I think it makes total sense.” 

Shinoa rolls her eyes, lips twisted up once again. “Of course you would think that. While it’s true we can’t trust Ferid, it’s a given Guren and the demon army are just as untrustworthy. We can only trust ourselves…our family.”

“You sure about that?” And you’re not speaking for yourself. Kimizuki mentioned only a few hours ago that he’d betray the group in exchange for his sister’s safety without a second thought. As for Narumi and Yuichiro, you have good reason to think they would cave before the chance to revive their loved ones. The group could break apart any moment now. You’re all human, after all, bound to personal desires.  

"The boys should be done freshening up," she says. "Let’s go meet up with them.”

Shinoa walks off. You and Mitsuba follow behind her. Barely past the door, you can already hear the echo of Kimizuki's voice. 

“Let me see if I got this straight," he says to his companions. "Human’s revive the dead. The action is forbidden, thus earning divine wrath. Then an angel of destruction appears and destroys the world. Is that how it goes? My sister…" His tone goes quieter, trying to mask emotion. "That day I saw her, she had white wings like that of an angel’s.”

For the looks of it, they started discussing the next plan of action without you. 

The door to the men's room is wide open. Shinoa steps in, adding, “That must have been the true form of the Seraph Of The End.”

Yuichiro whips his head in your direction. The boys are crouched in a circle, with the exception of Makoto, who stands against the wall a little to the side. “Shinoa, what else can you tell us?”

“I’m just as in the dark as you. I knew it was taboo, but that’s about it.”

“That day in Nagoya…" you recall, murmuring out loud for the rest to hear. "The Demon Army already had an angel… Kimizuki's sister. Then, there’s Yuu, who can also transform into an angel.”

“And you?”

You move your eyes towards Makoto. He watches back intently. 

You? That's a good question. What exactly are you? 

You will help me gather the seraphs, that man, Saito, had told you in your dream. The mere thought of his voice makes you dizzy; a velvety sound masking the real malice loitering in his being. 

You raise your palm, the one wrapped in bandages. The muscles are heavy and numb, the prickles less noticeable now unless you place your attention on it. The mere act of bending your fingers proves to be difficult. “I might be something different. It’s likely Guren kept my identity a secret. I was never given a reason to go to the Hiragii headquarters.”

It makes sense. He was keeping you to himself for whatever reason. And in order to ensure you remained loyal, he went out of his way to earn that trust with late-night chats and the occasional trip to the ice cream shop. 

You don't want it to hurt, but it does. 

“Changing the subject slightly." Shinoa crouches in front of a urinal. She appears to be deep in thought. You can already hear the next bit coming. "How exactly do you use one of these?”

Mitsuba groans to the ceiling with secondhand embarrassment. “Seriously, Shinoa?”

Kimizuki, deadpan, adds, “You changed the subject completely.” 

She laughs, then joins the circle with a serious expression in place. You and Mitsuba follow. “We all know escaping is impossible. Besides, there is still information we can get out of Ferid. I think it’s the better choice of the two.” 

Mikaela answers, “He’ll betray us sooner or later.” His tone is tense. Though you don't know the details, the fact that Ferid slaughtered his entire family in front of his eyes is reason enough for his wariness. 

Makoto huffs through his nose. “Not unless we betray him first.”

Oh, so now he's talking about fighting the bastard. “If you would have let me ram my weapon up his ass when we were on the bus…” you mutter. 

Kimizuki knocks the side of your head again. “You wouldn’t have been able to do shit.”

“Well, now we’ll never know.” 

Yuichiro ponders with his thumb and pointer hooked on his chin. “If I transform into my demon self, maybe I could kill him…”

Kimizuki raises his palm. “Vetoed. Demons are even less trustworthy than vampires. You can barely control it.” 

“My, my," Shinoa's sweet tone fills the room. "The world is in shambles and we can’t trust a single adult alive. Surrounded by enemies on all sides, here we squat in a men’s room like a gang of school-age delinquents." She grins. "We paint quite the picture.” 

Makoto ignores her. “For now, let’s just bring out whatever info we can from him. If everything goes to hell, we will attack together.” 

A smirk tugs Yuichiro's lips up. Of course he would agree to such a straightforward plan. “Sounds good to me," he answers. 

“It’ll be fine as long as we stay together.” It's when Yoichi talks that you notice he's carrying the container with Akane's head inside. To know that Yuichiro hasn't snapped in any way is good news. 

“We should go back before they start getting suspicious,” says Kimizuki. 

You rise to your feet, and amidst your attempt at joining the group on the walk out, you get halted midstep when Mikaela grabs your arm from behind.

“Wait,” he says.

“What is it?”

He takes you to the side, away from prying ears, it would seem like, and puts you in front of him so his frame shields you from view. You look at his face and get worried. His brows are furrowed, pushed lightly into his couple of perturbed red eyes. His grip on you is harmless, yet tight. You see tension on the lines marked across his jaw, meaning he has his teeth clenched. 

“Uh…” Yuichiro’s voice resonates with an echo. He stopped at the door and is facing your direction. “Guys?”

Shinoa dips her head in to pull Yuichiro out from the wrist. You catch a glimpse of a mischievous aura in the shape of her smile. It’s almost like she knows what’s going to happen. “Come on, Yuichiro. Can’t you see they’re trying to have a talk? Give them some privacy.” 

Mikaela doesn’t spare a glance behind him as the door creaks to a close. His frown is focused on you. “What did Ferid do?” he demands, voice tight and dense.

You blink in surprise, taking a step back. “What brought that on?”

He sniffs and wrinkles his nose with a heavy scowl, as if he had just confirmed his suspicions. “You’re surrounded by his stench.”

“Stench?” You raise your arm to smell the sleeve. Nothing is out of the ordinary, but you know Mikaela’s senses reach greater depths. “That’s not a pleasant thought.”

“What did he do?”

Yikes. Do you tell him? The previous two times Ferid got near you, Mikaela reacted in ways that endangered his life. Strong as he is, Mikaela wouldn’t be able to persist in a fight against him, and if he were to know that Ferid got especially close a bit ago, God forbid he goes mad. 

Better to keep the details small. 

“He didn’t harm me.”

Mikaela closes the distance between you, almost smacking his chest into yours. “But he got too close. Why? What did he want?”

You look off to the side, taken aback by the overwhelming energy his glare emits. “Nothing. You know how that bastard is. He likes to mess around. Can’t we just leave this for later? The group will start asking questions if we take too long.” Your initial intention of coursing around him is stopped when Mikaela pulls you back from your wrist. 

“You’re not going out there with that horrible smell on you.” He’s serious… and quite angry, too. He has the power to make you heed, and it’s only because you know Mikaela well that you’re not scared. 

You click your tongue. His concern is endearing, you will admit, but the current circumstances hold twice the amount of importance. “Are you serious, Mikaela? There’s nothing I can do about it right now. There isn’t any water here. I tried wiping it off with my sleeve.”

“That won’t do. Not even water. You have to scrub it off your skin.”

You laugh, partially in jest. “Are you listening to yourself right now?” 

“It’s like you want to prance around with his stench on you.”

“Holy shit, Mikaela. Of course not. But what do you want me to do about it? This is the type of reaction Ferid wants from you, you know that? I bet it’s why he licked me in the first place. He knew you would get like this–”

“He what?” is a near growl rumbling in his throat. You flinch to a stop, mouth completely shut. The ire in his eyes is fiery. A deeper scowl pulls his lips back, revealing pointy fangs. “Where?”

“Uh…Mikaela.” You're surprised your voice stumbles between the syllables of his name. The steps you take backwards are retraced by him.

“Where did he lick you?”

“Seriously, this is embarrassing.” 

His nose jerks as little, then he growls. “It was your neck, wasn’t it? That snake...damn him.”

You chuckle, though this time around it’s a nervous reaction. “Mika, relax, please. You’re letting him win right now.” 

Funny you would say that…considering you haven’t been following your own advice, but someone needs to hit the brakes for him, as others have done for you. 

Your efforts don’t seem to be working. He draws out a sudden flinch from you when his forehead drops on your shoulder, sigh pushing into your collarbone. His hands hold both of your elbows. “He’s all over you. I hate it. I hate it so much. It’s like he keeps touching you even though I’m standing right here.” 

Your temper wavers. Maybe you fail to understand in detail why it perturbs him so much. The closest you can get to the feeling is imagining someone else’s perfume on him, and still it might not be entirely the same. Vampires operate on instincts, since they lack emotions. You also don’t want to be the one reminding him of Ferid whenever you step close. 

Swallowing, you whisper, “Wipe it off yourself if it troubles you that much.”

Mikaela doesn’t wait for doubt. He cranes his head to the side, burying his nose into your skin. “I think I will.” His hand cradles the other side of your neck, as if to keep you in place. Not that you have the mental capacity to lean away. A gasp flees from your mouth. Your knees get weak, but you force them to hold your weight. 

The job gets considerably harder when Mikaela nibbles a bit of skin, pushing the tip of his tongue in between teeth. He has never done something like this, much less initiate it himself. Is he acting intuitively based on your lessons? Or is this a result of his own jealousy? 

“Is your scent usually on me?” you ask, already breathless. The entire front of his body is bound to you. Your hands, weak and wobbly, rise up to cling to his waist. 

“If I get too close, sometimes it will linger for days,” he admits, pushing the words into your skin. His breaths are cool. His lips and tongue, too. He overrides the intrusive scent with his own, lavishing your neck through strokes of lips and sudden licks. 

You’re melting, and only he can keep you afloat. “You like it,” you murmur. “...when your scent is on me.”

“I do.”

Driven by terrible greed, you want more, and now you also want to bathe in his scent if it means he’ll cling to your body to place it on you. “He touched my waist as well.”

Mikaela snakes his hands to the back of your waist, and they travel around, patting, caressing, conquering what you’ve given him permission to own. “Where else?”

Half in a trance, you answer, “He pressed against me from behind.”

He pushes into you, making you backtrack. You follow his wordless instruction with blind trust. His hands on your waist twist you around, and you can only lift yours in time to prop yourself on the entrance door, keeping your face from colliding into the metal. You try to balance your weight on your healthy hand. 

“Mika...”

His body is like a mantel behind you, hands spread out against the door from either side of you. He pushes his mouth in and across the skin of your neck, not quite kissing, but actively leaving his mark. “Make sure you call for me the next time he comes close to you like this,” he mutters. “I will break his wrists.”

Something must be seriously wrong with you, because why the hell was that so hot? 

Your arms shake, but you’re too drunk to worry about smashing into the door. If anything, the little awareness you have left has been placed solely on preventing a moan from slipping through your teeth. Your head hangs, and Mikaela takes advantage of the offered space to travel across your nape. 

The weight of the world crashes back on you with the disappearance of your only support. The door opens, but the arms Mikaela wraps around you keep you from crashing into the floor. 

“Guys–” Yuichiro grows silent, studying the sight with his limited understanding. You don’t know what your face must be looking like. Swallowing your breaths is proving to be nearly impossible.

Behind you, you don’t feel Mikaela’s hasty breathing, or any rising heat in his body, and you have never envied anyone so much. 

“Uh…it’s Ferid,” he adds, “He’s getting really annoying. Shinoa told me to come pick you guys up.”

You can’t make any fair guesses about what he must be thinking, but for the sake of your pride, you’ll give far more credit to his stupidity this time around. Mikaela lets go of you, and Yuichiro stands without further movement, waiting for whatever response or reaction neither you nor Mikaela give. 

When the awkwardness has done enough damage, you take the lead in stepping out, even though you're not the least bit presentable in your current state. 

“Damn you, Mikaela,” you mutter, knowing he’s walking close from behind. You cross the exit door and return outside. The bus is back into view with your teammates already inside it. 

“Damn him. ” The direction of his nod takes your attention forward, where Ferid stands a few feet away with a smug look. 

You wouldn’t put it past him to be able to smell Mikaela on you even from where he stands. 

Chapter Text

You’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact that everything went to shit in the span of a few hours. 

“Seriously,” you grumble, shoving your weapon away after a confrontation with yet another vampire that appeared from inside Ferid’s mansion, “whose brilliant idea was to team up with the vampires?”

It was already bad enough some hours ago when Crowley stopped the bus in front of an awaiting army of vampires wearing uniforms you had yet to see. The usual vampires from Japan were seen in the common white attire. The ones before you were dressed in coats and trousers of navy blue color, and black boots reaching below the knees. 

The smirk on Ferid’s face let you know he had intended to bring you to that abandoned amusement park from the very start. You weren’t surprised, though it seemed like Yuichiro was. He climbed out of the bus, ignoring the evident dangers outside, to reach Ferid with the annoyed scowl of a child who felt betrayed. The rest of the team followed him outside save for you and Makoto who chose to remain inside the vehicle. 

“You bastard!” he barked. “This was a trap–”

Ferid landed a smack on Yuichiro’s chest with the back of his hand. “Screw this up and even I will get killed in an instant.” The words were spoken in a quiet tone you could barely hear from where you leant on the bus window. Ferid stepped forward, placing the palm of his hand over his heart in a sign of respect as he bowed. “Lords and Ladies of the progenitor council,” he spoke louder. “Welcome. I have been awaiting your arrival. Thank you for coming all the way from Russia. I hope the journey wasn’t too boring–” 

A vampire almost three heads shorter than Ferid appeared in front of him at the speed of a second. His long hair was styled into two separate braids, splitting right between where it changed colors, red and pure white, respectively, with a black top hat crowning his head. The little vampire carved a hole through the center of Ferid’s chest and, unlike Mikaela, he retrieved his hand with a beating heart clenched between his fingers. 

Omitting the gross image you would have rather dealt without, your lips tugged up with malice. “We should team up with them instead.” 

Makoto knocked your head with the side of his hand. He was watching the scene from the window next to yours. “Shut up, idiot.”

You couldn’t hear past unintelligible gibberish, but it would have seemed that the Russian vampires were interrogating Ferid. They finally returned his heart once it became evident that he was at risk of losing his mind. The red marks appearing around his eyes mimicked those of a possessed human in the hands of a demon. 

The pain in his eyes was a joy to watch, even if it lasted mere seconds before his familiar smug look washed any sign of weakness away. Ferid dashed for the group and the only reaction you could muster was gasping before he grabbed a hold of Kimizuki and chomped down on his neck.

The situation was going from bad to worse 

He released your teammate before he could die, though a couple more sips and it was a given the worst would have come to pass. At the very least, Ferid proved he hadn’t lied when he said he didn’t want to kill any of you. 

“These humans are my new toys!” you heard Ferid answering one of the foreign vampire’s questions. 

To make matters even more confusing, the two highest ranking vampires left when it seemed that they had caught a whiff of something in a distant place. Meanwhile, Ferid ushered Crowley over and together they left someplace else without honoring your presence with a single clue as to what in hell was going on. 

Your teammates scurried back inside the bus to avoid eye contact with the army of vampires waiting outside for further instruction. 

As they came in one by one, you hissed, “What the fuck did we get ourselves into? What the actual fuck? There’s no way we’re getting out of this alive.” 

Mitsuba arrived behind Yuichiro. “Calm down. We still don’t know what Ferid’s up to.” The veil of serenity over her voice was see-through. “Mikaela stayed outside to try and grab some intel for us.”

You leaned back on the window, watching as Mikaela approached two vampires he appeared to be on speaking terms with. Kimizuki’s loud pants drowned any possibility of hearing their conversation outside. 

“Are you okay?” Yuichiro asked. 

“I think so.” His voice tore between intakes for air. He was sprawled on a seat. “Thanks to my cursed gear, I won’t die, though I’m starving now. I want meat.”

“Meat. Meat.” Yuichiro looked around like the action would be of any help. Unsuccessful, he turned back to Kimizuki with a deflated expression. “Sorry there isn’t any.”

He mocked a scoff. “You don’t say?”

“Oh!” It was as if a bulb lit up on top of Yuichiro’s head when he seemed to remember something. “Guys! I just realized Ferid left. This means we can run away now!”

Makoto rolled his eyes. “Don’t be dumb. Look at all the vampires outside.”

“But Kimizuki needs meat!”

“Would you give it a rest already?” Kimizuki smacked the seat with the base of his fist. “I said I’m fine!”

The urgency in Yuichiro’s tone fell, words slurred out instead. “You don’t look fine to me.” 

You moved your gaze back to the window. “At least give Mikaela some time to gather info for us.” The two vampires were wearing the traditional white attires you’d seen on Mikaela and on every other vampire in Japan. Did that mean Japan was teaming up with Russia? Maybe they were going to confront the Imperial Demon Army with bigger numbers. You would have been concerned if you were still associated with them. 

Mitsuba stomped over to Yuichiro, who hadn’t stopped insisting about getting Kimizuki some meat. “Yuu, stop fussing so much,” she chastised. “You’ll draw attention.”

You heard quiet mumbling on your side and found Yoichi suddenly looking like he hadn’t slept in days. His features were tense, muscles protruding around his jaw as he clenched his teeth. You didn’t have any memories of anything that wasn’t soft features on Yoichi’s face prior to that very moment.

“Yoichi,” you called, traces of concern sneaking into your voice, “you good?”

A couple of seconds ticked by before he whipped his head in your direction and you jolted in surprise. His lips stretched out into a bright smile you wouldn’t have dared to doubt any other day. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I’ve just been really stressed out lately.”

Shinoa interrupted your questioning with, “Ferid and the Queen have been captured!”

Every pair of eyes darted to the window, watching as the vampire you supposed was the leader of the foreign army arrived with a small girl caught in the tight grip of his hand. When you had listened to Mikaela reminiscing about the strongest vampire in Japan, the witch who transformed him against his will and kept him as his pet, you imagined a Queen bathed in red, a glorious monster to match the heavy title, not a little girl with pink hair tied into separate pigtails. 

The other noble of split-colored hair dragged the second hostage across the ground. In spite of sharing the Queen’s small height, he pulled Ferid from his silver ponytail without inconvenience. 

Quite the pleasant sight. “Hallelujah,” you thanked the heavens. 

Kimizuki smacked your head yet again. “I think you’re rooting for the wrong side here.”

Like you gave a damn. 

Yuichiro sounded baffled when he mentioned, “Now he’s waving at us.”

Makoto side-eyed him. “Don’t even think about waving back.”

You slid the window fully open and shoved half of your body through it. The energy placed into the action would have caused a serious fall had you not held on to the frame. “Hey, bestie! I hope you get decapitated!” 

You were pulled back inside from the collar of your shirt. Makoto’s gaze pierced into you. “Sit your ass down,” he hissed. 

The smaller vampire noble smacked Ferid on the chest. The force of the hit would have killed a normal human on the spot. 

“Oh!” you exclaimed as if you’d been watching a wrestling match through the screen of a T.V. “That’s gotta hurt real nice!”

“Both traitors have been captured,” the taller noble announced loud enough that it reached even the last row of vampires, including you and your friends from inside the bus. “I hereby sentence them to torture by exposure.”

You shoved your fist into the air in a celebratory fashion. “Case closed!”

“Seriously!” Makoto growled, “shut up!”

In a matter of minutes, both the Queen and Ferid were bound to giant crosses in the middle of the field. The suspense of what might happen dragged on for a while as the Russian vampires discussed their plans in detail. You caught on to the disturbed look on the Queen’s face despite her heavy scowl. As for Ferid, not much had changed about his shit-face and annoying grin, though you imagined he must have been nervous to some extent. 

Their protective wristbands were sliced off and just as suddenly, they were burning alive. Their bodies had turned into giant balls of fire, clothes disintegrating, screams piercing the air with sounds you were sure could fry their throats as much as the fire was getting it done from the outside. A normal human would have perished in mere seconds, but they would last a whole eternity without dying.  

Vampire sentences were no joke.

Crowley, to both your surprise and disappointment, arrived unharmed, and you were no stranger to a vampire’s emotional neutrality, but you would have expected him to have even the slightest of reactions in regards to Ferid’s position.  

Yuichiro approached him. “Uh, hey…”

“We can’t rescue them right now,” he answered, stoic. 

You blinked, blood dropping to your feet. “Wait, what do you mean ‘right now’? We will?” You swept a glance across the many faces in the bus, gobsmacked at the fact their first instinct wasn’t to commit mutiny on Yuichiro for even suggesting something so demented. 

They sided with him, of course, and like the fucking guinea pigs they continuously prove themselves to be, they let Crowley drive you all to Ferid’s mansion under the pretext Yuichiro needed to control his seraph if he wished to save them. 

What a load of crap. Are you the only one with common sense in this group? Granted, you needed help driving out of there in the first place, but after that, the chances of success with a squad of seven people, four of which have special graded weapons, and a vampire turned by none other than the Queen of Japan herself, should have been quite high. You could have challenged Crowley the moment you were far away enough from the Russian army.

No, instead you’re all following him into a mansion you don’t know what in hell could be holding inside. 

And it wouldn’t be Yuichiro without him calling the blood-sucker a fellow family member just because he killed a random vampire who attacked you the moment you had arrived, then revealed he used to be human even though it’s a universally known fact that shouldn’t have scraped the surface of surprise. 

You’re surrounded by morons, as Mikaela once stated. You two are the only sane beings in this group. 

You’re standing in the garden, where a clear cemented path circles in front of the mansion for cars to make a stop right at the twin doors. The two story building has the length of a rectangle with many windows lined up across the walls on both floors. 

“Hey.” Yuichiro walks up to Crowley. He’s been more interested ever since he figured out he used to be a swordsman when he was human. “How are you suddenly much stronger than before? The vampire who attacked us said he was a tenth progenitor.”

“I’m actually a seventh progenitor,” he answers like it was a passing thought.

There go the remnants of your hopes of ever escaping this circus.

“Guys,” you try once more, sighing. The words melt from your mouth like warm butter. “Are we doing this for real?”

“We need answers and only Ferid has them,” is all Yuichiro answers, and seeing as no one so much as counters the ludicrous reply, you let it go. 

It is what it is. 

Crowley has been watching with interest in silence. “I warn you,” he says. “The one who trapped Ferid and Krul is a fifth progenitor. If you can’t stand a chance against me, your hopes are slim for this opponent.”

How did you reach this point in your life?

Yuichiro follows Crowley to the entrance doors of the mansion, throwing question after question without filter. Shinoa and Kimizuki look on with expressions that read ‘that’s our Yuu’ in a way that surrenders acceptance because there’s no fixing him. 

You catch Makoto crossing your vision on his way to Mikaela, and seeing as they normally wouldn’t have any business talking to each other, your interest is piqued. “I’m not about to risk my life on a whim.”

He says that now? If there was anyone you’d have hoped would support your mutiny, it was him. 

“I have a question for Mikaela,” he continues, dragging everyone’s attention to the scene. Him beginning to pull his glove out creates a heavy lump in your stomach. “Saving Ferid. Befriending Crowley. How practical is that?” 

You could spit out your heart with how it bolts to your throat the moment Makoto rolls up his sleeve and cuts himself on the forearm, drawing out blood. 

“This once I’ll say I can try to trust you, Mikaela,” he says, “but how long can that trust last? For how long can you continue to see Yuu as your dear family?” 

Mikaela’s pupils turn slit, more than they usually are, in the sea of red that are his widened eyes. His body begins to shiver, sweat rolls down his pale face in beads. 

This isn’t fair. 

“Hey,” you grumble, but the warning goes unheard. 

Makoto doesn’t show a trace of sympathy as he watches Mikaela go through his struggle. He keeps his arm raised into clear view. “Do vampires retain bits of their human emotions even after thousands of years have passed? And if not, how long until you lose yours?” He cuts the distance shorter still, reaching out with his bloody arm. “This should be the time you start getting thirsty again, right?” 

Mikaela recoils, looking sick like the act of holding back urged the feeling of throwing up. He screws his eyes shut, a single hand gripping his chest, and stumbles on his feet with only feeble balance left. 

“Narumi!” you bark. 

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything. Makoto has never been present to witness the pain that is convincing Mikaela to drink even a drop of blood, has never felt his tears on his cheek or collarbone, has never heard the heart-wrenching sound of Mikaela’s soft cries. 

He knows shit about his struggle, because it’s a fact that no one cares like Mikaela does.

Makoto ignores you. “Well? Looking at this fresh blood on my arm, how much of your humanity is still there? When do we start looking like food–?”

You step in front of him, swing your palm across the air with so much speed the smack on his cheek resounds through the garden, stopping everyone cold in their tracks.

“That’s enough.” Your voice resonates just as strong. “Mikaela wouldn’t be struggling in place if he didn’t care about your sorry ass. Frankly, I believe he puts up with you better than me and I’m fucking human.” 

He braces through the sting on his cheek, visible as an angry red on white skin, and narrows a glare communicating the same aversion you feel towards him. “Well, you’re not exactly human either, are you?”

Kimizuki steps in before you can try another slap, grabbing his injured arm and raising it in the air. “Look at that, your cut has already healed. For all your preaching, we aren’t entirely human either. Not since we made contracts with demons.”

“But we’re on the human’s side,” he says. “We aren’t vampires.”

Yoichi steps in, holding the container with Akane’s head in his arms. His eyes brim with concern. “What does it really matter who’s what, anyway? Humans kill other humans, too. Humans betray other humans. So is it really impossible to side with the vampires?” 

“Wait,” Mikaela interrupts. You can see in his demeanor that he’s letting his inner demons feed on his insecurities and hatred for himself. “Makoto’s right. Little by little, my humanity is vanishing.” 

Makoto’s anger diminishes to make way for a serious expression. “What speed are we talking about? How long have you been a vampire?”

Mikaela’s face shows how fragile he’s feeling inside. He’s scared of himself, and your heart sinks because of the sight. “Four years… no, it was only after I drank blood for the first time that I fully transformed.” 

“So not long, then. At this rate your emotions might be decaying faster than Yuu’s transformation into a demon. When you saw the head of Akane, didn’t you feel anything?”

Mikaela drowns in his mind, fishing for the memory. A frown with many cracks forms on his face, communicating he has reached a conclusion and is too scared to admit it.

Makoto fills in the gaps for him. “It sounds like your attachment to your family is fading.”

You step in to say, “This is bullshit. Utter bullshit, you hear me? Mikaela isn’t human, you got a point there, but by God, I can promise you he isn’t a monster. Yes, he’s different now that he’s a vampire. He doesn’t feel the same things a human does. You know what makes your talk absolute dog shit, though? The fact that he’s here with us, that he fights his thirst, that he continues to care for Yuu is already enough proof on its own. For fuck’s sake, Guren and the fucking Hiragii’s have killed humans a hundred times the amount Mikaela has not and you’re trying to rescue him. Make that make sense!” You whip your head around, finding Mikaela’s gaze. “And you.” Stomping to him, you stop a foot away to poke his chest with your pointer finger. “I can see it on your face. Stop doubting, you understand? Stop that. Only in your wildest dreams could you be a monster. You care, okay? You’ve shown me many times that you do. There’s no way you’ve already forgotten. You fucking care. End of story.” 

Though his demeanor stays broken, the sole sight of you seems to bring out the tender wine color from his eyes. You can almost feel his gaze adopting the form of a loving caress on your cheek. “Well, I can confidently say that my feelings for you and Yuichiro remain clear as day.”

The group seems relieved about the revelation. Even Makoto, who says, “Then maybe it is possible for a vampire to cling to a fragment of their humanity, and in that case, an alliance with them becomes possible.”

If this is Makoto’s way of trying to diffuse the situation, you aren’t appreciative of it. You understand his concerns, but the way he approached the situation was uncalled for. The fact that Mikaela ended up feeling like shit is proof enough that Makoto did it wrong.

You send him off with a glare. The rest of the group follows him to the mansion to join up with Yuichiro. 

“Hey.” Mikaela’s soft voice cradles your ears, melting your glare as you meet his crimson eyes. Without the burden of so many faces around him, he reaches out with his forefinger to brush your cheek. “I don’t want you fighting with your friends.”

“Teammates,” you correct. “And the rest would agree that Makoto was being an ass for no reason. There were different ways he could have approached the situation.” 

“He’s not wrong, though.” Another crack appears in his gaze, brows furrowing from above. “I’m not to be trusted. I’m a–”

“You’re Mikaela, that’s it.” You place your hand over his, cramming it between your cheek and your palm. “My gentle Mikaela.” 

The weight of many worries and insecurities leaves him in a single exhale. You return the smile he makes just for you to see. 

You don’t get to stay sealed away from the world in your little bubble for long. The squad is waiting for you in front of the twin doors when you finally get there together with Mikaela. Shinoa gives you a knowing look that lack of time doesn’t let develop into further teasing or questioning. 

Yuichiro is following Crowley around once you make it inside, and the image of them bickering over pointless topics already makes them look like long lost brothers. 

The living room on its own could fit three regular master bedrooms. There’s a golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling, leading your eyes to the set of twin stairs in the back curling into the second floor, painted in the same gold that seems to be a recurring theme across the mansion. The space is filled with expensive pieces of decoration, including statues, mahogany furniture, a grand piano, mirrors, portraits and pedestals. 

The boys run for the kitchen upon Crowley’s invitation while you and the girls scurry for the bathroom, where a long awaited shower prepared by none other than Ferid awaits you inside. To your surprise, he has sets of Imperial Army uniforms stocking up the closet. You’ve been wearing casual clothes since your last attire got torn to pieces months ago and slipping back into the uniform ends up feeling strange. 

The dining table is large enough to fit twenty people, and it is filled with diverse plates of food Kimizuki had no reservations about taking from Ferid’s fridge. 

A bath, clothes and food, luxuries Ferid should not concern himself with, he has in heaps. It can only mean his end goal was getting you here from the start for whatever reason you can’t quite figure out. 

The boys can’t detach their heads from the table once all of the food is gone. Never before had you been given the opportunity of enjoying a feast, and with one as good at cooking as Kimizuki is, not a single ingredient was wasted. There was even dessert. 

Crowley arrives at the scene with torn clothes and scratches on his face. “Has everyone finished eating?”

You snort, spoon tucked in your mouth. “What happened to you?” 

“Oh, just Ferid playing tricks on me. The cellar I want to take you to had booby traps.” He sighs, probably at the mental image of Ferid’s sickening grin. “Anyway, you coming or what?”

Shinoa lifts a brow. “What’s in the cellar?”

“Dead bodies,” he answers. “...or so I’ve been told. The bodies of those who were important to all of you.”

The spoon slips from your mouth, the thought of Aoi immediately coming to mind. Ferid did mention he had collected her remains.

“And I must warn,” he continues, “that the sight can’t be pretty by any means.” 

Makoto hums in understanding. “So Yuu might go berserk.”

Crowley’s impassive look says all you need to know. 

“Okay.” Makoto turns to Yuichiro. “It’s best that you stay here.” 

“Hell nah!” A fire lights up in his green eyes. “That’s my family down there. I’m going! I’ll even carry Akane myself to prove I won’t go berserk.”

Crowley huffs. “Not like he has much choice to begin with. If we want to beat a fifth progenitor, we’ll have to use the power in him. Call this a mere practice to see if he can manage to keep it at bay. And, well, if he doesn’t…” He settles his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I’ll just have to lop off all his limbs.” Despite the threat in his statement, he sounds and looks detached. The topic of death and murder doesn’t hold even the slightest weight to him. 

You pray Mikaela never reaches that state. 

“Sorry, guys,” says Yuichiro, though it’s hard to take the apology seriously when he’s saying it through a wide smile. “But I really wanna see my family.” 

You smack the table. Through teeth, you mutter, “Why? Why is it that you want to go down there? For what purpose if not to revive them…”

Yuichiro walks over to Yoichi and takes the container with Akane’s head inside. “If there’s a way…” Turmoil rages in his eyes as he looks at her.

You click your tongue. “And maybe there is. But at what cost? You heard Ferid’s story. If there’s any truth to it, the world ended because Guren revived his friends. Is that what you want? For history to repeat itself? Torment innocent souls just to bring back a couple of people from the dead?”

“But they’re not just people,” he says with conviction, drawn to Akane’s face still. “They’re my family. Our family.”

You don’t add another word. It’s futile to insist and no one else is backing you up. “Well, I have no interest in disturbing the dead, so I’m staying here.”

Everyone else departs, stating to you where they stand on the matter. 

You thought of yourself as selfish, but they’ve raised the bar to a whole new level. And what’s more, they can’t even say you don’t understand, because you fucking do. You’ve lost so much since the apocalypse and it was all Guren’s doing. Your parents died because of someone else’s selfish desires. A third of the population perished, hundreds of thousands of children were made orphans at the cost of reviving a small number of people the world would have dealt without just fine. Can’t your comrades realize the roots of their suffering are tied to Guren’s doing? Committing his same mistakes will only put others in their position and the cycle of selfishness and pain will never break. 

You toss the spoon into a wall.

Damn it. You feel so helpless. There’s nothing you can do to fix anything. You’re not special enough. God made the mistake of making that lot of nutjobs too special. He made Guren too special and as a result, the world turned to ash. 

You smack the table. “Fuck!” 

The most you can do is stay to witness the world fall apart in the hands of those selfish enough to not give a damn. Your own goals are beginning to get blurry once more. What’s the point of uncovering a past that will do nothing to change how fucked up the present is? Do you really need to understand that part of yourself? 

Shit, of course you do. You’re a monster like the rest of them. There’s always the possibility the world ended because you had some form of contribution. Wanting to escape that reality is selfish of you.

Bitter laughter rips from your lungs. Damn. What did humans ever do to deserve the gift that is being alive? 

Ruckus coming from outside shakes the floor under your feet. “Woah!” you exclaim, heart somersaulting in your chest. “What the hell?” You push out of the chair and sprint to the window.

The shock you feel is enough to stir in you the desire to puke. Your stomach becomes a bottomless pit your heart falls into. You hold onto the wall for support, knees buckling under your weight as you watch the scene unfolding in the garden through widened eyes. “No way,” leaves you amidst shaky breaths. 

Outside, stands Guren among the collapsed bodies of his team brought to a state of unconsciousness by none other than himself. All of the hatred you once felt, all of the indignation and resentment transforms into a ball of pain clogging your throat the moment he looks back at you. 

You drop to the floor and sob. 

Chapter Text

For all the talk you gave about confronting Guren, you were quick to run the hell out of his sight.

Not once did you think you would find yourself hugging your knees inside one of the many bedrooms in the mansion. You’d be inclined to laugh if it didn't seem like your heart was about to leap out the second you opened your mouth.

There’s a giant bed with many pillows decorating the top, cushioned chairs, too, yet you choose to crouch on the floor against a wall with the look of a homeless child. You feel pathetic.

So much for the journey of self reflection you thought you went through. It’s clear that you’re still running away from everything that scares you, that which you don’t want to learn. And you still know that nothing will change how real it already is.

‘Ignorance is bliss’ or so they say. 

As for Guren. You know you hate him; you know you cared about him. But you weren’t expecting to feel so much weight in your heart upon seeing him. It hasn't stopped hurting. The scar is forever there. 

A knock on the door startles you, and before you can tell them to go away, the voice on the other side rings a special bell of familiarity.

“It’s me.” He doesn’t wait for a response, not that you have the capacity to think of one. You wouldn’t tell him to leave, that’s for certain. 

Mikaela’s expression is soft as he closes the door behind him and walks to you, showing the same fondness he lets into his face whenever it’s you and him and no one else. 

You follow him with your eyes, watching as he reaches your side and joins you on the floor. “Is he…?” you trail off, and it would seem Mikaela doesn’t need you to elaborate to understand, which can only mean Guren has already reunited with the group. You must have spent about twenty minutes cowering by yourself. 

His brows furrow. “Yes. Came here along with his bullshit.” You can immediately tell he’s not pleased with the outcome of his arrival. “You didn't talk to him?” he asks. 

The sigh you push out from an open mouth has the appeal of a childish whine. You lean back, bumping the back of your head to the wall. “I couldn't. Too much of a coward.”

“It's alright to be nervous.”

You hum with sarcasm. “What did he say?” 

He takes the sudden fury that ignites flames in his eyes away from you. In turn, the window in the far wall receives the look of his seething frustration. “He needs Yuichiro for his sick plans,” he mutters, then shakes his head.  “And of course the idiot said yes.”

You frown. “Yes to what exactly?” 

“To rescue Ferid and the Queen. They want him to transform over and over again until he gains control.”

So this has all been his plan? Ferid wasn’t lying. They teamed up for this.

No. Something has been going on way before this. Ferid had Imperial Demon Army uniforms in a closet. Who else could he have gotten them from if not Guren? But why would Ferid want to work with Guren? What is he hoping to gain?

“What a mess,” you grumble, running your fingers down your scalp. “And all of this for what? Why does he need Ferid and the Queen?” 

“Beats me, though I wouldn’t be surprised if he was manipulating everyone.”

“You really think Ferid would fall prey to manipulation? I mean, it's Ferid .” 

“I don't know,” he sighs. “I don't know anything and I wish I did.”

You have the next question on the tip of your tongue, but you shut your mouth and stall in silence. You fumble with your hands, trying to talk yourself out of your curiosity. It doesn’t work in the end and you ask, anyway, “Did he mention me at all? ” 

The extra couple of seconds it takes him to speak already answers your question before he can say, “No.”

“Oh.” You hate how much that asshole affects you. 

“It's good that he didn't,” he adds. “The less involved you are, the better.”

You lift your bandaged arm, numb from skin to bone. “Clearly, I am involved. Did he confirm what Ferid said? About ending the world to resurrect his friends? I saw that he knocked them out cold outside.”

He looks down, slight lines protruding on his jaw from clenching it. After a pause, he shakes his head. “It's impossible to understand what's going on inside that unstable head of his.”

“So you don't know?” 

His stare flips in your direction. “What?” 

“About the resurrection, Mikaela.” You tilt your head, feeling sudden evasion from him. “Was Ferid's story true?”

“...I guess. I wouldn't put it past the two of them to be lying.”

Your brows furrow tighter into your eyes. “But Guren confirmed it or what?”

“Does it matter what he says?” 

The scrutiny is visible in your eyes as you study him in silence. His gaze won't stay long enough on you before he flips it back to the floor or a random wall. His muscles are still, arms crossed over his chest. “What?” is a quiet whisper that tries to sound annoyed and instead comes out child-like. 

You shrug. “I don't know. You look very tense.”

He settles his eyes back on your face. “Guren is about to use Yuu for his own selfish benefit and we're all letting him. Of course I'm tense.”

You give in. “Right, sorry.” 

“It's okay if you don't want to see him," he insists. “To be frank, I'd be more calm if you didn't.”

Your eyes linger on his, then you chuckle. “We'll see. I told you he's my goal.”

You hear a coarse scream from a distance, that familiar animalistic shriek that comes with every transformation of Yuichiro into a monster. You'd be concerned if Mikaela hadn't already warned this was Guren's intention. However sick and twisted an idea, he must have the means to revert him back should the need arise. He's likely the one who gave that drug to Ferid in the first place. 

You're close enough to Mikaela you feel him shift. 

“It's starting,” he grumbles, glaring at the image of Guren in his head. “I better go to ensure nothing terrible happens to him.”

You nod. “Okay.”

That was the moment in which you were supposed to answer 'I'm coming, too'. Guren is standing on the other side of the window and you're doing nothing about it.  

Your bubble of thoughts bursts when you're guided to Mikaela's eyes by his cool touch on your cheek. He's close, and he's looking at you like you were the only one who mattered in his world, even if just for this little gem of a moment. 

Nervous, you chuckle. “What?” 

“Nothing. I just wanted to look at you.”

“Wow, that was so corny.” Nevertheless, the smile that inches up from the corners immediately gives you away. 

He hums a tender sound. “I'll see you later.” 

“Yeah.”

Your eyes follow Mikaela on his way to the door. He gives you a final glance before closing it behind him, leaving the room in silent solitude. A part of you wishes he would have stayed with you, but it's true that Guren can't be trusted with Yuichiro. 

Coward , a thought in your head tells you, and you don't know if it's yourself or Karkodan. 

You shift your legs, planting your feet on the floor, only to stall in place and end up crossing them under you again. 

Your demonic powers wither away until just a speck of it remains, and it makes sense considering Karkodan had been feeding off your determination to see Guren again. With that gone, you have little to nothing left. You're not exactly attached to anything, not even life itself. The little flame of desire left in you belongs to Mikaela. 

Not enough, Karkodan says in your head. 

You know it's not enough, but what's the point of wanting anything else? What's the point of fighting when you've got barely anything worth fighting for? You had your chance at death and you let it go on… a whim? Hope? Most likely an impulse. Maybe a bit of fear as well. Fear of the unknown. 

You don't know what you want anymore. 

Correction. You do know, but you want the unachievable. A normal life simply won't come to be. Ever. Regarding your current reality, then yeah, you don't know what you want. You can't fully have Mikaela either. 

You wish you were more normal. That's impossible, too. 

A scream blares through the walls from outside. Something animalistic, something inhumane and monstrous and deranged. It's loud and raspy, but buried underneath, you can hear the hint of Yuichiro's voice. 

You look towards the window and stand. What is going on? 

Half of the room is blown to bits by a powerful blast in the blink of an eye. You feel the heat of a fire, the rubble smacking you on the head and arms; your ears ring with the aftermath of the explosion and when you finally get a sense of awareness, you realize you've been catapulted to the air amongst the destroyed debris, the wind gracing your cheeks like razors. 

“What the hell ?” you scream, barely able to hear yourself over your dead ears and the heartbeat ramming into the walls of your throat. You could choke on it. Your vision is still blurry, but you catch a dot of a figure running on the ground below with Demon Army uniform and dark hair. His voice is a tiny sound in the distance. 

“Lop his legs off!” 

Before you can question who he's talking about, a creature with giant black wings sprouting from his back like dismantled webs approaches you at high velocity. Despite the familiar features: the messy coal hair, soft proportions and the same Demon Army uniform, you can't spot even a trace of Yuichiro in those eyes; red pupils shrouded in blackness, screaming murder at you.

It's difficult to move when gravity feels nonexistent as you're still soaring from the impulse of the blast. You pat around for Karkodan, but he isn't on your waist. He must have flown off during the wreckage. 

“What the hell?!” You hear the cry of a man to your right. Shinya and the rest of Guren's squad find themselves in a similar state as you; flying amongst rubble without the slightest clue of what's going on. 

“Shinya!” The voice from before is clearer. It's Guren's, and he's hysterical. “Shoot him! Shoot him before he kills you!” 

“Uh…” Desperate, a demonic rifle materializes in Shinya's hands and he takes aim. “Someone mind clueing me in, please?” 

But Yuichiro –or rather, the monster in possession of him– isn't remotely interested in the several people preparing to attack. It is still going after you, roaring with his arms spread. 

“Holy crap,” you mutter. 

Shinya's blast goes through it and doesn't lay a single scratch. The monster still goes for you. 

Several attacks follow after, catching it in an explosion of demonic energy. By then, gravity finally takes its course and sinks you back to the ground. You must have spent only a couple of seconds airborne, but with all of the events happening so fast, your senses can barely keep up. 

You find Karkodan the moment your feet touch the ground and scurry to grab him. In that same moment, the monster is back behind your tail, and between skipping back and dodging, it chases you out to the front garden of the mansion. 

He's being shot at from all directions and still won't let go of his obsession for you. 

“What in hell is wrong with you?!” The situation has rendered you to frightened cattle running away from the one about to take you straight to the slaughter. You run and jump and fling razors of wind at the monster, giving the others time to hopefully immobilize it, but its persistence is strong and you're getting pissed because Yuichiro's face is still there, and when does he not make you pissed? 

“Stop it already, dumbass!” You jump a fair distance away thanks to the impulse of Karkodan's demonic energy. “What's the matter with you?” 

Everyone is calling out for you. Mikaela is frantic. Guren looks like he's about to lose it with every strike that doesn't stop him. 

If you were to die, at least the guilt would haunt him forever… hopefully. 

The monster knocks you off your feet, cutting your momentum so abruptly you have no chance of getting it back. You hit the ground and collapse, then the monster's taking up your whole vision. 

A chorus of screams resonate in the back. You're breathless and so done with this crap. 

“Fucking hell,” you mutter, sitting up, and with a stronger impulse, you scream, “I've had it with you! You hear me, Yuichiro? Stop! Fucking stop! I'm so tired of you!” 

The anger draws a powerful feeling out from your chest and, blindly, you welcome it in, thinking it might be Karkodan granting you power. 

Wait, he warns, it's not me. 

But it's too late and the adrenaline doesn't let you think straight. You accept the power and disperse it through your system, a power you've only ever felt once, the one time you almost died. It's overwhelming, mysterious, a loose cannon neither you nor Karkodan can tame. 

You draw it out more because it calls to you. To hell with everything else. 

Your chest burns, your eyes burn. You get on your feet and push downward with your hands, creating a soft current of air against the ground. “ Enough !” You hear two voices merged into one, the familiar one is yours and the other is an entirely new entity that just knows it holds all of the power the monster in front of you could only ever hope to achieve. “ Stand down. ”

The being in Yuichiro's body convulses, and it screeches like a dying animal until it's rendered weak and useless on the floor, using the last remnants of energy to claw forward. 

Then, it faints, head dropping to the floor, and your surroundings go quiet. 

“What–?” You sound like yourself again, which is a relief until your organs start disintegrating from inside, or at least it feels that way. You collapse on your knees, clutching your stomach, and retch blood out. 

It's the same thing over again. You touched the forbidden power in you and it's coming back to collect tabs on you. Your body is numb from the outside; you don't feel the air or the people surrounding you, not even the noise. From inside, however, you might as well have lava in place of blood circulating your veins. 

You scream, and you can't hear yourself doing so. 

The sounds around you are blurry, but you distinguish your name amongst them. 

The clarity increases. Your sense of tact gains its life back and you feel the breeze again hitting you, the blood circulating across your system, too. 

Your name again. Guren is calling for you. 

Slowly, you regain movement. “What…the hell…?” A grip on your arm helps you sit up. 

“Has it stopped?” Guren's tone is shaky and breathless. His purple gaze brims with concern as he checks your body for injuries. “Are you okay? Are you feeling any–” He stops, eyes widening as he lifts your bandaged arm. You're still working to recollect your thoughts when the flip of Guren's head in your direction makes you return the look. “Your arm,” he says, sounding shocked. “You've… already used your powers?” 

It's enough to slap you awake. 

You fling your arm off and crawl on the ground to gain some distance from him. Tears fill the corners of your eyes, both from the previous strain and the realization that came across you like a punch to the gut. “You… you know , don't you?” 

A syringe lies on the ground, the item he likely used tame the creature inside you. 

Your breaths pick up, making it harder for you to speak through them. “You came prepared for this. You never said anything. I… you pretended that you cared, but you don't. I wasn't enough, so you went for Yuu.”

“Lassie,” he murmurs, as gentle as his stare. “I'm sorry.”

“No, don't call me that.” You drag your weak body away from him, flinching when he takes a tentative step forward. “Get away from me!” 

A body steps in to shield you from the one monster your brain deems dangerous, more than the seraph incarnated. Your mentor has been the worst curse to have ever touched your miserable life. 

But a head of blond towers over you instead. You move in to grab his white cape and pull, turning a pair of glimmering eyes back at you. 

Through quiet sobs, you beg, “I want to get out of here, please. Please, Mikaela. Let's just go.”

He glances at the collapsed body of Yuichiro, stalls for a brief second before he returns his attention to you and nods. “Okay.” He offers his hand to help you up, and for the rest of the journey back to the mansion, he supports all of the weight your jittery feet cannot. 

The rest of the group stays behind to assist Yuichiro. 

You space out for a while, only feeling your feet pace one in front of the other in the direction Mikaela's establishing for you. 

The next thing you hear is the sound of a door closing. That's when you realize he's taken you inside a room on the second floor. You didn't think a single one had survived after the blast Seraph Yuichiro caused. The aesthetic and order of things is a replica of what was in the other room. 

Mikaela guides you to the bed and has you take a seat beside him. You make sure you're always touching him. If not his hand, then your thigh with his. You need physical comfort, even if what he has to offer can only ever be cold. 

You push a shaky exhale. “Y-you saw that, right? It wasn't…it wasn't my imagination, right? I controlled the seraph. It listened to me.”

He looks at you with so much gentleness, though in your eyes, it seems like he's sorry for you. 

Your mind is blank. You can't think coherent sentences past the echoing of the words 'Guren', 'manipulator', 'monster'. What has he done to you? Who the fuck would be so twisted as to mess with the body of a helpless kid? What is wrong with this world? 

You clench your fists, prickling your skin with your nails, and it isn't until you feel the sting on both hands that you raise your bandaged one and look at it. 

It's no longer numb. You can move the fingers and your wrist without discomfort. 

“I… it doesn't hurt anymore.” You lift the end of the bandage to inspect the skin, but it remains charred to the color of dark maroon. “What's in that drug?” you murmur mostly to yourself. “Is that what he's giving to Yuichiro?” 

“It might be.”

You move your hand around, staring as if a third limb had grown out of it. “Feels like an anesthetic. It might wear off later.” 

The small victory is overshadowed by everything else. You remember the sensations at the time of the occurrence. It was power, and so much of it you felt able to take on one of the most deadliest creatures currently wandering this earth. Are you not a Seraph then? Are you something worse? 

You chuckle because it's so surreal that in any other plane of reality it'd just be fiction. “What the hell,” you murmur. “This…I–”

You don't know where the next sob comes from, but it takes the speech away from your tongue. Your eyes get watery, and new tears continue to replace the ones you wipe away with the back of your hand. “Why me?” you wail. “Why me?” 

“Come here.” Mikaela invites you to his arms. He pulls his leg on the bed, then the other, and shifts backward, tossing the many pillows off to the floor as he moves, until his back touches the headboard. 

You crawl between his legs and sink into his chest, where you allow yourself to spill the tears, spill the urge to scream and curse because never before have you felt so rejected by the world. Strong arms hold you tight, refusing to let go, and his nose buries into your hair. 

“I'm here,” he whispers. “I'll always be here.”

Will he? You don't believe him. 

“I'm here,” he repeats as though he had heard your thoughts, and you allow yourself to trust his word. It's the only thing you have left, the one promise you can cling to. 

“Don't abandon me,” you sob. 

“I won't,” he reassures again and again until the quiet whispers lull you to sleep. 

-

You wake up to an empty bed. The room is dark with no light coming in from the arched window, which means you must have slept the remaining hours away before sundown. Mikaela is likely checking up on Yuichiro. It’s understandable. You have a feeling he’ll come back later.

A lazy growl disturbs you; it’s your stomach complaining for food. You feasted upon Kimizuki’s cooking not so long ago, so the transformation or whatever the hell that was taking over your body probably drained every bit of calorie you had consumed.

You shuffle out of bed and head downstairs for the kitchen. Hopefully, there will be some leftovers in the fridge. 

The manor is quiet and most of the lights are off. Your best guest is that your teammates are either huddled in one room or already sleeping. You don’t know what time it is. It could very well be past midnight. 

The trip is quite literally a shot in the dark, since it’s by sheer luck that you get through the spiral staircase without tripping. You pass by the living room, the dining table and finally make it to your destination. 

The inside of the fridge provides your first ray of light, which comes at your eyes with the bearings of a punch. It doesn’t help that they’re tired and swollen from crying yourself to sleep. 

You settle for a packet of yogurt. It comes with a transparent container on top holding granola inside to mix. You close the door and turn, dropping the item when you see the silhouette of the last person you would have wished to see standing at the entrance. The warning bells in your head immediately pinpoint that he’s blocking your only exit and as a result, your hand moves ever so slowly for Karkodan. 

“Calm down, lassie,” he tells you, sounding so serene it’s infuriating. 

“Shut up,” you hiss. “You…I–shit, fine! ” You swat the counter top at the center to release some steam, then you turn to glare at him from a distance. The little amount of light in the background gives his figure some familiarity.

Sickening familiarity, that is.

“Enough games,” you say. “Tell me what’s going on once and for all.” 

He sighs like a disappointed father, like you’re too young and immature to understand anything. “Lassie…”

“No!” you demand in a near form of bark. “You’re not lying to me, you hear me? I will know if you’re lying to me. I’ve…I’ve discovered so much on my own, so much you haven’t told me.” 

“How?” He takes a step forward, and you take one back to maintain the same distance. “Where did you get the information?”

“They came back to me, slowly, most of them through nightmares, but you can’t tell me everything has been Karkodan’s doing. I know this is real.”

He frowns. “What else do you know?” 

Who does he think he is? You can’t decide whether his deadpan appearance and form of speech is infuriating or hurtful. Even now, you feel that he doesn’t give a damn about you.

“I’m the one holding the interrogation here. How about you start telling me everything you know, Guren? Don’t omit any details, understand? I know about Saito, about the orphanage, about the apocalypse, a-about a…brother?” You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. 

“Why do you know this?” He sounds upset. 

You raise your voice, and you don’t care if it disturbs everyone in the manor. “Stop stalling! Just stop! Please. If you ever cared about me in the slightest. Just the slightest.” You have to stop because your voice cracks. Even when you pick it back up, it still seems so broken. “Then you'll open your damn mouth and tell me.”

The silence that follows is suffocating. It sends chills through your body, as if it was the work of a demon. You glare at purple eyes, and those purple eyes stare daggers back at you. 

He sighs through his nose, looking defeated. “Alright, I'll tell you.” He pauses as if to prepare you for what he’s about to say, either that or giving you the chance to back down, and though every instinct in you wants to run away, you keep your feet planted on the floor. “The man you know as Saito has been experimenting on my clan for generations before my own, using us as tools for his own gains. Somewhere along the line, he messed with our DNA as well. He told me he merged a piece of his own tissue into an infant years before I was born, and that I’m a descendant of said infant.”

You furrow your brows. “But this doesn’t have anything to do with–”

“This genetic alteration gives me abilities no ordinary human could ever have –the perfect fit for experimentation where the risks of death are greatly minimized.” He trails off to look at you, that guarded stare of his making you shiver from head to toe. Maybe it’s because of the shadows on his face or the broken spirit in his voice that you’d think even for a second he seems sad. Why would he? Guren doesn’t have the right. 

“I was the perfect fit and yet he didn’t take me,” he says. “He took my sister instead, not knowing that her DNA wasn’t altered because she wasn’t an Ichinose to begin with. She was a normal human with a normal body that couldn’t handle experimentation.” 

Your blood freezes. You stumble forward with knees of jelly and stop the potential fall with a knuckle-white grip on the counter. Your breaths spike up, and through them you push out, “Guren… what are you saying?” 

“Sixteen years ago, an infant was dropped at the entrance gates of the Ichinose compound. She was taken in upon Lady Ichinose's behest, my mother, who raised the child as one of her own.” He pauses. “That child was you, lassie.”

“I…” You could burst into a fit of tears. A lot of it still doesn’t make sense. You had parents. You remember their faces. 

“You were still too young when you were stolen from the compound,” he continues. “Saito took you, believing you to be an Ichinose of altered genes like I was.”

You can’t believe it. Guren is the brother Saito mentioned. He thought you were related by blood, a part of his bigger plan, and he took you. He tortured you. That’s why you reacted so strongly to his name and memory. He destroyed who you were and made you into this…thing.