The Kiss of the Dragon
A Vampire Kaiba Songfic
By Aislynn Goldleaf
Yu-Gi-Oh is the intellectual property of Kazuki Takahashi, and is being used in this fan fiction for fan purposes only. All situations, opinions and characters not belonging to Kazuki Takahashi are the intellectual property of me. People, situations, and characters in this story are entirely fictional, any resemblance to actual people or events is unintentional. This disclaimer is for this story in its entirety.
The Phantom of the Opera by Andrew Lloyd Webber, lyrics by Charles Hart. My double-CD edition of PTO includes the full script of the play and is where I have pulled the lyrics to this wonderful song from.
Vampire Kaiba belongs to Kikoken (sorry everyone!) and is used here with her permission.
Night-time sharpens,
Heightens each sensation...
Darkness stirs and
Wakes imagination...
Silently the senses
Abandon their defenses...
He had been one with the night ever since his Step-father's experiments had pulled him brutally, painfully into this dark world. Those nightmarish experiments however, had made him into the ultimate hunter, a Vampire, strong enough to even tolerate periods of harsh sunlight. He stood now, at the top of the spire on Tokyo tower, listening to music that with his abnormally sharp senses, only he could hear.
He was tall, had always been tall. Six foot three to be exact. Dark brown hair that would occasionally fall across his eyes, framing a face that many women had, and would call handsome. His eyes, eyes the cool blue of a clear summer sky, were what most people first noticed. Then they met, and froze, at his cold demeanor, his icy condescending tone. His eyes had become cold, fierce, hard as ice, during the change. Those chill eyes closed as the breeze brought a change in the nighttime melody, the quiet shift of silent octaves, the music caressing his very soul with its beauty.
One of the first things he remembered, once the initial bloodlust and hunger had left him, leaving his mind painfully clear, were the subtle harmonies afloat in the night air. He was certain, that had he not changed, his former self would never have been able to detect this quiet music. His black trench coat swung slightly in the night breeze, the clear sky for once full of silvered stars. The silver buckles and studs appeared almost golden in the orange-halogen lighting. He opened his eyes to view the neon splendor spread before him, his arms across his chest. He took a deep breath, and another, scenting for blood and nervousness and fear.
He always did his best thinking at night, surrounded by the gentle scents, the phenomenal sights, and always, always those beautiful melodies. His mind seemed to sustain itself off of the incredible music he heard, while his body drank the blood of his victims and shuddered in their exquisite taste. The hushed harmonies he heard were silent during the day, many of his sharpened senses blunted, dulled, overwhelmed, by the dazzling sunshine and noise of 'normality'. Nighttime was when he truly came alive.
The music swelled now as he picked his target, a young woman darting through the square below. She was small, this woman. Young, and small, and his. Black hair caressed her shoulders in a simple coif, her purse clutched before her as one hand rummaged within. Her nervousness at being out so late, so alone, was evident in her quick steps.
Her dark eyes were alert, looking all around her, but never up. They never looked up.