Expressionist Beast

The Bittersweet Nightshade

Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Knight. Matsuri Hino does.


Chapter 1. Enchanted

Magnificent.

I eagerly shifted my position on the wooden chair, tilting my head for several times until I got the perfect angle.

"Hmm . . . this part has too much color, and this one . . ." I murmured under my breath as I averted my gaze to the vast, once blue sky which now was tinted with shades of subtle orange light radiated by the sun.

When light crushed the surface of the sea water, it was successfully reflected, with the astounding sparks surrounding the horizon as an outcome. Despite being obstructed by the clouds, the center of the universe still shone in its utmost glory. Then I realized how abnormal it was, for it was already 5 p.m. and yet, the sun hadn't sunk down behind the hill like it usually did. But thanks to that, I'd got the chance to pour the scenery onto my canvas.

Moving my hand rapidly, I added some abstract scratches using the paintbrush in the grip of my hand. This was the work I'd been dwelling on since three days ago but those days passed by in vain as nothing met my expectation. I wanted something perfect. Something . . . unimaginable.

However, if you think about it more profoundly, creating something unimaginable based on something so imaginable was quite a futile attempt.

As futile as it was, I would still do it anyway because I believed when there's a will, there's a way. It's my principle of life, and without a doubt, it's much better than a certain someone's proclamation: we live to love, we love to live. She is peculiar to begin with, so what should I expect? In her version, this statement completely tallies with my physiological condition.

Sara Shirabuki's version.

Ruining this perfect moment by mulling over something so hateful wasn't exactly my initial plan and thus, the urge to retrieve my peace had brought me back from my day-dreaming as well as focused my wandering mind on the canvas. Whereas my right hand was doing its duty, the out of work one took a violet-colored oil paint tube and subsequently squeezed it to let a handful amount of paint out onto the wooden palette. The unique oddness of the odor produced by the paint rushed into my senses, making me feel contented like I'd found the thing I've been born for. No one ever comprehends what I mean by that, not even Yori who plays the roles both as my closest friend and dearest sister.

Smiling at the thought of her, I continued on finishing my so-called unimaginable painting. I really hoped this one would actually work out, unlike the one I'd proceeded to ruin last week.

I stared back at the scenery stretching before me when a gust of wind slowly blew into the room through the opened window, causing my hair to end up in a state of disarray. Locks of russet-colored hair hindered my scrutiny, its shapes akin to classy engravings. Bursting with unseen force, the warm, flowing air shoved all possible light-weighted stuffs, occupying the room with sounds of whispers. Occasionally, it caressed my face and limbs with feather like touch while in another time sent shivers down my spine.

My eyes involuntarily closed; my mind and body were savoring the serenity offered by the nature.

In times like this, a hurtful consciousness of my condition would strike into me.

I'm a weirdo.

And I'm standing alone in this world, devoid of warmth and strength from my kind.

Maybe I'd exaggerated things here and there but honestly, I only have two colleagues in total (If a sister can be included as colleagues, then make it three). And to make matters worse, they are driving away from me―slowly but sure. I could easily tell the sole reason for it; realization of the fact that being friends with a total freak will bring nothing but misfortune had dawned upon them in middle school, so they had made a resolution for this year.

I missed them.

I missed the dreary jokes, the late snacks, and even the lame 'girls' time' we had shared together during our Saturday nights which recently had been substituted by lonely and piteous stargazing.

I had a hunch our three years of friendship would officially end in no time.

Ergo, the one to accompany me for the next three years will be my sister alone. It's true that it was callous of me to exclude my parents whose health is beyond well and care for me from the depth of their hearts, however . . .

"Yuuki!" An ear-splitting scream drifted me back to the real world.

I blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Right, I was home, it's no surprise I could hear my mom's typical screech.

Sigh.

"Have you taken a shower? Dinner is ready, honey! And don't forget to clean the mess you've made!" she screamed bloody murder and I was starting to feel grateful for having the house built on the waterfront off the sea; each house separated by miles of distance.

Sigh.

See? Only two sentences from her and I'd already sighed two times in a row.

Unsatisfied at the silence followed afterward, she needlessly added, "I don't want to see your room looking like a shipwreck for a second time, alright?"

Rolling my eyes, I huffed, "Yeees, Mom!"

Ever since the day I fortuitously forgot to lock the door, my mom had been being unreasonably sensitive toward my lack of trimness. And when I said that she herself didn't give a good example to her children by getting into other's room without permission, she retorted back, "I'm your mother. I don't need your permission even if I want to burn the house."

I guess that's just how mothers are. Except that my mom's personality is a bit off.

Correction: far off.

Responding to Mom's demand, I sluggishly pushed back my chair and picked up all the things I'd scattered on the slick marble floor around me; paintbrushes with all kind of sizes you could think of, tons of paint tubes, tatters of fabric stained with unidentifiable colors, and others I couldn't name.

Then a sudden pain crept up my back as the result of spending a good fifteen minutes of cleaning, indicating the truth behind my mom's gist. I warily raised my body, leaving the leftover paint tubes sprawling on the ground, and was shocked by the area of my room in which the mess had managed to conquer. Labeling my room as a shipwreck was an understatement of the century. At least the shape of a shipwreck was distinctive enough for it to be identified, while in my case, nothing could be classified as an appropriate bedroom's furniture.

My king size bed was covered by what it seemed as canvas rolls that all I was able to see was white. At the opposite side of the room, was my black-colored study desk, tainted with mishmash of colors―yellow and green on top of that. The visualization it gave out was poles apart from the reality.

"Urgh, this is going to need a lot of effort," I grumbled as I reluctantly forced myself back to the painful chore. "I have to make the floor visible, at the very least."

¤O¤O¤

¤O¤O¤

"Yuuki, are you ready for your first day of high school tomorrow?" My dad spoke up soon after the food was served, his apricot-colored eyes glimmering with excitement behind the round spectacles.

I looked up from my plate and answered with mouth filled up with chunks of barbeque-flavored steak, "Well . . . I am . . . I think."

When his face slowly transformed into a disappointed expression, an immediate feeling of guilt overtook me.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Yori throwing me a look. I heaved a sigh and amended my previous answer, all the time wearing a pseudo smile on my face, "I was just teasing you, Dad. Of course I'm ready. Better than ready, even!"

What a big fat lie, Yuuki, I notified myself.

He brightened up as if the sadness he once showed had dispersed into thin air. "Really? That's great! Yuuki, you're going to love this place! The people are nice and there's someone―" he trailed off for a jiffy, building up curiosity inside of me. "―I mean . . . you're going to make a lot of good friends!"

There was something fishy about him indeed, but seeing how puerile and naive he is, I shrugged it off eventually.

"That's great, Dad!" I exclaimed while trying so hard to make it sound earnest without revealing the true emotion I'd buried deep inside my heart. I cast a pleading glance at Yori to send her an implicit message, "Right, Yori?"

She jerked her head in pure shock, her eyes instantly widened. "Eh, what?"

Definitely, she wasn't paying attention, let alone grasping my message.

Peeved, I repeated my question, "It's great, right?"

Her perplexed mien was quite an entertaining show, but alas, it didn't last long since she's a fast learner. She understands what thing distresses me the most especially the ones concern with social life, for I'm a loser when it comes to mingling. Therefore, the moment she saw the look I made, a glint of sympathy passed those hazel orbs in a blink of an eye before it turned back to normal.

"Right. The best part is you're the head master!" At this point, Dad had gone as far as grinning from cheek to cheek. "We'll make a bunch of friends!" A brief pause occurred until a sudden sly smirk formed on her delicate feature. "And if possible, finding boyfriends."

I had to restrain myself from bursting into a fit of laughter as I was swallowing and if I still dared to, my life could be at stake (I mean, there are some cases where the person chokes on meatball and dies right on the spot. No, I wouldn't let myself die in such a déclassé way). Just how could she come up with something so inane in her attempt to change the topic? More importantly, she should have known what she had done was digging her own grave by triggering the drama queen's overly motherly behavior. The next thing that ensued could become an indication.

My mom landed the silver-plated fork onto the plate, followed by a 'clank' sound afterward. I'm not a superstitious person, neither do I believe in those things, but I never thought I had the ability to sense mystical things, like the dark aura rousing around Mom, for instance. Albeit her face showed a different story, everyone in this room knew better than that.

Yori was certainly, positively, unquestionably doomed.

Man, this was scarier than it sounded like.

"Boyfriend, huh?" The lady named Mom snickered, her elegant visage was still. Turning to my father, she enquired the poor man, "What do you think, Kaien?"

When a predictable silence fell upon the room, she went on with her question, "How old are you Sayori?"

Petrified of other silly things Yori might say, I nudged her brusquely as I let out a nervous giggle. "That's a funny question, Mom. I'm pretty sure she's undoubtedly sixteen by the time she celebrated her sixtieth birthday ten days ago," was all I could blabber which received a death glare from her in return. "Ha-ha, just kidding. Forget me Mom. Just pretend I'm not here!" My gut told me to raise my hand in a surrendering pose."You know, ehm, think of me as a wall . . . yes, a wall! Ha-ha . . ." No sooner had I said that than Yori nudged me to gain my attention.

Her eyes were sharp when she mouthed, Help me, baka!

I pushed myself to peek at the creepily smiling wife then at the quivering in fear husband.

This is what people mean by imbalanced distribution of power in a family.

Hopeless, I mouthed back, my head shook warily.

I guess not warily enough since Mom (once again) looked daggers at me, beaming eerie signal which I interpreted as 'Do not meddle in' and hence, I did as she ordered.

"Ehm," I started in an unsure tone, my hand reached for a napkin. "I'm done here, so I'm going upstairs alright? Thanks for the meal."

I took the remaining silent from her as an approval of my escapade and whispered at my dear sister for the last time to give encouragement before her fight in the battlefield, "Just grin and bear it, 'kay? I'm really sorry Yori, but I can do nothing to prevent her from you-know-what."

I scurried out of the living room, leaving the dumbfounded Yori with Mom whom she had to put up with till the clock struck eight or in other words, not more or less than an hour to go.

"I'll pay you off someday," I mumbled as I made my way down the aisle which only had the moonlight as its source of light.

The house felt darker than usual that walking required extra chariness if you didn't intend to fall flat on your face. It was a rare occasion for the maids to forget about switching on the lights, as there haven't been a small number of them who had to lose their job when my mom discovered even the slightest mistake they had made. Having the asinine thought that by reminding them to do their duties correctly would atone for my sin of sacrificing Yori, I commanded my feet to change direction, en route to the maids' room.

The walk didn't take much time and in only a few minutes I'd arrived in front of the towering mahogany doors. My hand was about to knock on it when my ear took notice of faint murmur coming from inside.

"Heee, really? She's an adopted child? Are you sure?" Asked a girl, her tone was full of inquisitiveness.

"I'm a hundred percent sure! I've overheard madame and master's conversation this afternoon, they were talking about Yuuki-sama," another voice echoed in the chilling air.

"You weren't imagining things, were you? I've worked here for as long as I can remember and I―"

The atmosphere of the room was suddenly enveloped by fear and regret as all unspoken words were swallowed down by my presence in the instant. No one dared to speak a word or move a muscle, even the blowing wind had stopped crushing the window. Beads of cold sweat dripped down around their temple and when I kept silent, the four of them started to exchange anxious glances. From the look of it, they were wondering why they hadn't received any scolding.

The reason was simple: my tongue was tied, firmly.

I closed my eyes shut tight, struggling to push back the memory I've intently stored in the back of my mind until today, but a mere maids' chit-chat had made it ooze out like crazy. My heart was shrouded in fury, lonesomeness and hatred, each of them clutching it tight without leaving space for me to breathe.

It wasn't that I was shocked.

No, not even a cell of me was shocked.

I just . . . didn't want to remember.

"Uh, we-well, I," I stammered, lifting my heavy eyelids.

Taking a deep breath to collect myself, I went on, "I just hope you can spare your busy time"―The rage in my heart had set off my sarcastic personality―"for doing your tasks properly. Try to walk down the aisle, and you'll know what I mean." I inhaled a deeper breath. "And, you all should've known that eavesdropping your own employers wasn't a tolerable act, understand?"

The second I said that was when they vigorously nodded in unison.

"Good."

I hurried from the room as fast as I could, just in case the stinging feeling I'd been having in my eyes was a sign of tears. Through my vision, though blurred, I saw the stumbling steps I'd taken, the moonlight illuminating the surroundings, the pictures hanging on the wall, and a door―the last thing which put me at ease. I didn't recall when exactly I'd thrown myself to bed; what I knew was me quietly sobbing there, pillow above my head as a muffler.

And out of the blue, all inevitable memories flooded my mind without any mercy; every word of it screamed loneliness.

"Yuuki," Dad called my name, his voice was calm and soothing.

"Yes, Dad. What's wrong?" My innocent twelve-year-old self answered my smiling dad. "What is that in your hand?"

I shouldn't have asked him. God, his miserable smile was telling me not to go any further.

He hesitantly offered me a picture. "Here, take a look."

I seized it with my tiny hand by means of curiosity and was taken aback by the pairs of eyes staring back at me.

They are familiar, I thought.

From the left was a woman, her features were like a splitting image of mine: those full of authority dark-brown orbs; the small, somewhat luminous delicate face framed by soft, thick locks of russet-colored hair, each falling to her hips; the smile she formed with her rosy lips that was as tender as a cup of hot cocoa on a snowy day. Beside her was a grown-up man, his eyes were rich of affection that held a hint of power and most of him was alike with the woman, only his lean and board shoulders accentuating his masculine side had made him stood up among the others.

Then my eyes locked up with a figurea boy in black shirt. The height difference between him and the other man informed that he was the same age as me. In spite of everything, I was slowly drowning into his chocolaty eyes; like a pair of pools beseeching me to swim through the mysteries and grief it had. Those flickering orbs were just too mature to be a young boy's possession.

"Yuuki." I snapped back from my pondering.

I held up my head, finding him giving me that sad smile again. "This is you," he said as he leaned toward me, and pointed his index finger at a baby cuddling in the woman's embrace.

". . ."

I remembered myself thinking, oh. Oh.

As simple as that.

But deep down in my heart, dozens of questions kept on surfacing:

Why did they abandon me?

Are they still alive?

Don't they love me?

Who exactly . . . am I?

Stop it Yuuki! You're getting nowhere! My inner cried out.

Darkness was the first to greet me when I had the energy to open my eyes and alter my body into a sitting position. I felt a pang in my head, mostly because of the time I'd spent on mourning my fate and the abrupt act I'd taken to interrupt the overflowing memory from crushing my mental.

I mean, being abandoned by your parents is already pitiful enough. Do I need to suffer from a mental illness too?

Oh no, of course no.

So I positioned my hand under my eyes, ready to wipe away all the tears left by using the sleeve of my cashmere sweater while getting up from the bed. I strode out of the gloomy room as my effort to get some fresh air, considering how my headache had reached its peak. The same kind of wind from before stroked every inch of my body right after I banged the double doors leading toward the balcony open, but tonight it felt more chilly and brisk.

I darted my eyes on the picturesque view and right on cue, all my worries as well as distress disappeared without a trace.

Up above the black curling sea wave was the never-ending star-studded night sky. The centre of all the twinkling white dots, the moon, brightened the surroundings with its light; every single thing passed by it was barely glowing and my balcony wasn't an exception. While my soul was still losing in the beauty of nature, I sat on the metal bench to rest my stiff body. The sound of wave crushing onto cliffs reverberated in the air, weirdly having a shuddering effect on me.

"Very . . ."

"Beautiful."

Uh.

Okay, was I crazy in the head, or did I just hear someone continuing my word in a place where there should be only me?

A jolt of panic shivered through me. Was it a thief? Or worse, a ghost?

Climbing the towering gate outside my house without being caught by one of the burly guards or getting holes in your pants―keeping five watchdogs to maintain our house's safety was my mom's genius idea as there have been several cases of robbery in the neighborhood, although they have literally bite the hand that feeds them (I was one of the victims) many times before―was an impossible effort, so let's scratch the first option.

I bit my lower lip while turning my head to the direction of the beholder of the voice; my arms and legs were slightly trembling, seeing that there was a possibility for it to be the soul of a dead person. Just thinking about it had caused my hair to stand on end.

Too bad the creature was standing on a place where the light hadn't managed to reach, so only the silhouette was perceptible. From the available information, I presumed it was a man, and when I was able to know that his feet were sticking on the ground, I exhaled in relief.

Now both of the options had been scratched.

"Where did you come from?" I was a little bit shocked by the confidence that showed in my tone. "And how?"

A thief or not, I had to figure out how he'd came this far nevertheless.

He chuckled at me before replying, "The sky? Well, just consider it that way. And how? Flying, maybe."

His deep, velvety voice resulted in me losing my words. "Oh." I added not very intelligently, "The sky, huh?"

"Yep," he responded in amusement and with unknown reason, I wasn't scared of this man; instead, I was slowly falling in love with his voice.

I left the bench as I had my normal state of mind back. "You must be a thief. An outrageous one, I must say. If you don't leave this place in five seconds, I'll call the guards," I pointed out. "One," I started the count, a moment separating every word. "Two."

He didn't budge.

No kidding, this lad was taking the piss out of me. "Three, four, fi―"

My mouth couldn't help but stopped to let myself ogle him, who had just a second ago stepped into the light that the moon provided.

For the second time today, my tongue―Yuuki Cross' tongue―was tied, firmly.

To be continued-


A/N:

I'd like to express my deepest gratitude to The Lonely Serenade who has generously wasted her time to beta my story. It means a lot to me. Really, thanks.

And finally, please speak up your mind by reviewing this story! Constructive critiques and advices are sweet, on the other hand, flames are scary (at least for me.) So. . . yeah . . . please review!