Gold and rust colored leaves crunched under Polnareff's boots as he made his way through the dark forest. Armed with a mere flashlight and a sturdy jacket, he frantically looked around the dead quiet area in hopes of catching any glimpse of what he had lost.
"It should be around here, it has to be around here. I can't lose it, I won't forgive myself if I did!" he quietly whined, almost at the verge of tears when a rustling behind him nearly drew a yelp out of him.
Stiffening for the worst, his hold around the flashlight tightened dangerously as he held his breath and steeled for what was to come. Worst-case scenario, he already has an escape route memorized.
He almost laughed in disbelief when a rabbit jumped out of the bushes. It nonchalantly stared at him, wiggling its small nose before hopping right past him, unaware that it had almost given him a heart attack.
'You've been living in this area for more than a year now, get a grip Jean-Pierre Polnareff!'
He let his gaze follow the small ash-grey mammal, only shifting it away when the animal completely vanished from his line of sight. The clearing he was currently in fell back to its aforementioned silence, bringing him back to reality.
'I can't be loitering here all night, it's already dark as it is.'
With that thought in mind, he went back to his search. Choosing an opposite direction to the one he was currently searching through, he scanned the area with his flashlight, soft light illuminating the grass a few feet away from him.
Any pleasantness he had remaining in him seeped out at what he found.
Dark, musty, and widespread.
It was blood.
Panic pricked at his heart.
It was fresh.
Polnareff's panic had only lasted for a moment before fading into solid resolve. Non-existing eyebrows furrowing and mouth pulling into a grim line, he slowly followed the trail of blood, his senses hyperaware of any shifts in his surroundings.
He was fully conscious of how dangerous and unwise this action would be. It can very easily be a wild animal that had left the trail, and he would have no means of protecting himself if he ended up in its territory. It was his helping nature that kept him going, though. Someone might be hurt. He couldn't just let the idea go, his guilt would eat him alive.
It was after a good amount of walking did he finally find the source, a strong smell of iron hitting his senses before a pool of blood and soft whimpering became his confirmation. Flashlight tightly held in his hand, Polnareff swept the area with a solid motion, stopping when the light hit the bottom of a huge tree.
A small baby deer, cloaked by the heavy shadow of the tree, was trembling as it soaked in it's own lifeblood. Its fragile neck bleeding and legs convulsing, the tiny animal continued to whimper in misery as it tried and failed to stand up.
Gut twisting at the sight in front of him, Polnareff made to move toward the wounded animal, but a movement in his peripheral vision had him halt mid-step. A deep growl cut through the silence and sent a shiver down his spine.
'Oh merde'
In front of him was a wolf, its fur an impossible shade of crimson, one that would have commonly looked fake on such an animal, but looked oddly natural on this one. Hands shaking, he caught a glimpse of violet eyes before taking a step back. The wolf's eyes stared at him with a quiet analytical gaze, seemingly trying to decide whether to attack or not.
A whimper from the aforementioned deer snapped the wolf's attention back to it, enabling Polnareff to catch sight of blood so dark it looked black when the predator bared its teeth.
'Guess I don't have to wonder about where those injuries came from.'
Slowly, he took a step back, then another, careful not to make any sudden movements or sounds. Glancing at the whimpering animal one last time, he bit his bottom lip before bolting away.
'I'm sorry, little guy!'
Polnareff ran and ran until he felt his lungs about to burst, legs not stopping until he was back in front of his house, or cabin to be more accurate. Throwing the door open, he quickly got inside and slammed it back closed. Breath ragged, he slid down to the floor and rested the back of his head on the wooden door, sucking in breath after another.
.
.
It was after a long moment have passed that he realised what had just happened.
"Holy shit I just ran away from a wolf"
Violet eyes noticed a glint hidden between two small bushes. Taking a step closer, the man that the pair of eyes belonged to crouched down, and with surprising gentleness, took the shiny object in his hand.
It was a golden oval-shaped locket.
Lightly pressing his fingers to the side, he pried it open. Inside was a single picture. A girl, no older than eighteen smiled at him. She had beautiful wavy black hair, and blue eyes so clear they resembled sapphires. The man stared for a long moment before snapping the locket closed and flipping it over.
He noticed a small elegant engraving on the back of what he believed to be a name.
{ Sherry Polnareff }
In the days that followed that eventful night, Polnareff spent the hours after his working shift in the town's pharmacy searching the forest. The fact that his cabin was situated at the very edge of the woods made it much easier. The search came out empty, though, and he was getting more and more frustrated by the day.
'If only I haven't stupidly went on a stroll that day, I would have still had her picture with me'
Unknown to him, a pair of keen eyes have started following him by the fourth day of the search. The man behind them, and the holder of the same item he was looking for kept a close eye on him. It wasn't ill intent that had him keep the locket, but honest curiosity. He found the man who had put a barrier between him and society to be intriguing.
By the time the seventh day of the search rolled out, Polnareff was downright miserable. He had checked and double-checked all of the areas he's been at on the day he lost it, but with no avail, the locket was just gone.
It was on his way back to his cabin that he found an elderly man resting against the trunk of a tree. Polnareff didn't pay him much attention and continued his walk back, but stopped when he noticed him struggling to stand, his wrinkled face scrunched up in pain.
"Hey! Are you okay?"
Jogging closer to the man, Polnareff immediately crouched down to help him up. Wrapping one arm around his frail neck and the other around his small middle, the Frenchmen slowly stood up, keeping in mind not to move in any way that might add any pressure the man's sprained ankle.
"O-Oh, I'm sorry." The man apologized, attempting to smile but it came out forced. "It must be my old age. One small fall was all it took to sprain these old bones of mine."
"Don't worry about it, I'll fix you up real quick. You're lucky that my house is just a short walk away" Polnareff assured him with a smile.
"Young man, are you a doctor of some sort?"
Polnareff's smile fell slightly. "A nurse. Well, a former nurse." he buffed out his chest, smile back to its full glory. "Don't you worry about my skills being rusty or anythin' old man, I'm as reliable as they can get!"
.
After two minutes of walking, or awkward limping in the elderly man's case, Polnareff stopped and shifted his posture so he can carry the man on his back instead.
The puzzled look that was sent in his direction was hard to miss, even if the man's bushy ashy brows were covering more than half of eyes. Polnareff grinned back.
"It's faster this way."
And faster it was, as the two reached the cozy cabin in record time.
.
Gently lowering the man on a bed, Polnareff immediately started fixing up his strained ankle. Gaze sharp and hands delicate, it didn't take him long to apply ointment and wrap up the injured foot. Smiling up at the man once his handiwork was done.
"All finished, you're good to go! Just make sure that you regularly ice your foot so it doesn't swell."
He looked around the room for a moment, standing up once he found what he was looking for. Disappearing for a moment before coming back, he held a makeshift cane made out of a sturdy oak to the man to take (That table was broken anyways).
"What is this for…?" The elderly gentlemen couldn't help but ask, taking the stiff piece of wood in his hands and looking it over.
"It's to help avoid putting any strain on your foot."
"…Thank you, young man."
"It's Polnareff. Jean-Pierre Polnareff."
The ageing man's wrinkles doubled in number. Laugh lines fanning around his eyes when he smiled back at the man in front of him."
"Thank you, Mr. Polnareff"
.
.
After a warm cup of coffee and a pleasant goodbye, Polnareff waved with a smile until the gentle old man was completely out of sight.
Slowly lowering his hand back to his side and letting out a soft sigh, Polnareff lazily scanned his eyes across the open area before closing the door behind him.
He was oblivious to the pair of eyes that were following him all day.
The next morning, Polnareff found the necklace hung on the door handle, and this time, he did cry.
-Three weeks later-
The full moon was a gleaming alloy-silver orb in an otherwise empty night sky, no clouds to hide behind and only stars to keep it company. A lone, cherry-colored wolf was making its way through the empty forest, unaware of what was to come or of the pair of eyes that were tracking its every movement.
The man camouflaged behind a bush grinned manically, his fingers pulling the trigger without any sign of hesitation. His hat read "D.B.", and his red eyes looked much more vicious than a predator's gaze.
.
Hot searing pain burst through the animal's side before the sound accompanied by it registered. It grit its teeth to the point where its gums started bleeding, the man behind this would not be getting the satisfaction of seeing him in pain, the wolf will be sure of that.
Sucking in a deep shuddering breath, the wolf ran. The pain was spreading like the roots of an ancient tree and stretching to every part of its body, but it kept its pace fast, obstinate in reaching where it wanted before its body collapsed from the agony. A trail of blood was forming in its wake.
Reaching what looked like a makeshift house made out of a mixture of wood, leaves, and a couple pieces of cloth, the wolf quickly ducked inside, hissing at the pain that flared up with the movement.
'This form is not much help. This bullet is not normal, and I can't possibly take it out myself.'
With a deep shuddering breath, the wolf's appearance started to shift. The sound of bones cracking and reforming filled the thankfully empty area, and the wolf couldn't help but whimper in pain as the bullet embedded in its side resisted the change by digging in deeper. This change was putting an enormous amount of strain on its already aching body, and the strong effect of the full moon was making the shift even more difficult.
.
After what seemed much longer than it actually was, a slim man with brilliant red hair was standing in place of the wolf. His side was dripping blood down his naked right leg, as the skin around the entry wound bubbled and popped. The sound of flesh sizzling and hissing was clear to the naked ear.
Ignoring the pain as much as he could, he rummaged through whatever scarce belongings he had stashed at the corner of his temporary living area. Finding what he deemed good enough to wear, he put on a pair of old jeans, teeth gritting when the movement caused more blood to split out of the wound. A white crumpled long-sleeved shirt, far too baggy for his frame was used to cover his torso. The shirt immediately started soaking in the blood of the wound, turning the right side of it a deep red.
The werewolf's ears refused to change back, however, and the only solution he had was to wear a large straw sun hat that he had found in the forest weeks ago.
He was bleeding out fast. His trusted fast-healing ability working against him as it started to close the wound, only to have the skin burn and reopen it again. The pain was unspeakable, and he started seeing black shadows at the corner of his eyes when he took a few steps forward.
This was much worst that he'd thought. He needed this menace out and fast, and he knew just the right man for the job.
Polnareff was just finished with his dinner when a knock on the door was heard.
Quickly putting his empty plates in the sink, he wiped his hands with a soft towel before opening the door.
"What the…" He was lost for words. That was obvious. In front of him was a young man wearing what looked like it belonged to his father, and was that a straw hat? Who would even wear that so out of season he must have a—
His thoughts were interrupted when said man fell on top of him, unconscious, and almost knocking Polnareff off balance if his reflexes weren't as quick as they were.
Speedily looking the man over, he determined the cause to be lack of blood. The unconscious man was bleeding out and fast.
'Oh boy. This is gonna be a long night'
With a quiet grunt, Polnareff dragged the man inside, kicking the door closed with the heel of his foot before placing him on a spare bed. The blood seeping out of the oddly familiar man immediately colored the white sheets beneath him a blood red.
After quickly checking the unconscious man's vitals and breathing, Polnareff set to work. Exiting the room for a moment and coming back with a large briefcase, he opened it up on a nearby table. Turning back to the man with examination gloves on and a pair of scissors, he cut the fabric around the bleeding area with practiced precision and winced at what he saw.
This was a bullet entry wound, no doubt about that, but the way the injury was behaving was nothing like he'd seen before. Smoke was coming out of the wound, and the smell of burning flesh accompanied it. The skin was bubbling and popping despite its attempts to recollect itself.
'What in the world are you…' Polnareff couldn't help but wonder, glancing at the young man in front of him.
The redhead was looking paler than he was a minute ago, this can't be good.
Turning back to his briefcase, he took out a pair of forceps and quickly disinfected them, as well as some rubbing alcohol and a small piece of cloth.
Half-gagging the unconscious man, he left him with enough room to breathe while making sure that he was something to sink his teeth into if he woke up.
He took some rubbing alcohol and disinfected the area around the wound, causing the wounded man to jerk a little despite his unconscious state.
Polnareff slowly widened the entry wound's area, hoping that the bullet was not in too deep or he wouldn't be able to get it out himself. Blood came gushing out but he used to the towel to keep it under control
"Le voilà." He found it.
With one quick glance in the man's direction, Polnareff eased in the forceps with a steady hand. The man's earsplitting cry of pain hit his ears a moment later.
"Bite down on that cloth and keep still! I'm almost done here!" Polnareff quickly instructed, glancing at the man and noting that he did just that. The redhead was gritting his teeth around the cloth so hard to the point where his gums started bleeding, but he kept his body still. Only a few gasps managed to escape him.
"Good, good, you're doing good." Polnareff whispered, a frown on his face as finally took hold of the bullet, electing another yell from the man he was treating.
"I'm gonna take it out now okay? So do me a favor and don't move an inch" He glanced up and the man nodded at him.
"Okay…" Polnareff sucked in a breath before slowly taking out the bullet. Once it was completely out, he dropped it on a nearby empty plate and moved to treat the wound.
The redhead was watching him with a tired gaze, violet eyes dulled from pain and fatigue. He refused to sleep, though; he can't be letting his guard down here.
.
.
Polnareff glanced up once he done with stitching up the wound and blinked in mild surprise when he saw the man in deep slumber.
'Can't really blame him…'
He stood up and took off his blood-covered gloves before freezing in his place.
Sticking out of the redhead's head was a pair of non-human ears.
'Are these… wolf ears?'
Glancing down, Polnareff saw the straw hat that this man came in wearing thrown on the ground, he then glanced back up at the sleeping man.
He brought his attention to the bullet for a moment before hurriedly taking it to the sink. Once washed, it was clear to him that it was a silver bullet.
Polnareff chuckled in disbelief.
"Holy shit I just treated a werewolf."
It wasn't until the next day did the werewolf wake up. Having slept for more than 18 hours, he was quite disorientated when he first opened his eyes. He did note something immediately, though, that the pain was gone.
"Oh! You're finally awake! You slept for so long that I was starting to worry." Polnareff exclaimed, walking into the room with a tray full of food.
The man blinked at him for a moment before his gaze dropped down to the tray, It looked really appetizing, and his body was pleading for food.
Polnareff didn't miss the look on the man's eyes, and chuckled softly before placing the plate on a small table by the right side of the bed.
"Bon appetit" He smiled.
The redhead's wolf-like ears twitched slightly before he took the tray and placed it on his lap. There was a piece of freshly grilled fish resting on a bed of bean and rice, alongside a bowl beet salad, and a glass of orange juice.
"You bled out too much. You'll be needing the nutritions if you wanted your small body to go back to its full health." Polnareff explained.
The werewolf immediately frowned at the "small" comment, but didn't say anything back. It seemed that he wasn't one to speak much, or he simply just didn't trust the man in front of him enough to give him that privilege. Anyhow, it was obvious to him that he won't be able to leave this place any time soon, judging by the dull feeling in his side and the sluggishness he was feeling.
'Might as well just eat, then.'
The first bite he took was hesitant and slow, but that didn't last when the food turned out to be, well, delicious. The young man ate in a fast pace, yet still managed to somehow not drop a single grain of rice on himself. Polnareff was a little jealous.
Once completely done with his food, the man put his now-empty tray back on top of the table beside him. He then opted to just stare at Polnareff with a curious gaze.
Ignoring the eerily familiar pair of violet eyes that were following his every movement, Polnareff moved to take the tray back to his kitchen to wash.
He walked back to the man holding a book, and an empty spot on his shelves.
"Hey now, don't go moving around or you'll open up your wound again!" He sighed, yet found himself a little amused at the look the man was giving him.
'He can understand me, if the amusement glinting in his eyes was any indication.' Polnareff mused.
He then sat down on a nearby chair and ate his own lunch.
"I'm home!" Polnareff announced as the door clicked shut behind him. In his arms were two bags full of groceries.
He made his way in and was met with the sight of a redheaded werewolf curled up on top of his bed. Said werewolf looked up from a book he was reading, ears twitching slightly when his gaze met Polnareff's.
It's been five days since that... interesting night, yet the man still refused to speak to him, or even give his name. Polnareff was 120% sure that he had the capabilities to read and write, though, if the fact that he had inhaled all of the books in his house in less than three days was any proof.
The young man only nodded his head.
Polnareff sighed.
"I got you a new book. Some mystery thing I thought you'd like."
The werewolf's fluffy cherry-colored tail twitched slightly at the words, something that Polnareff learned to view as a sign of approval.
Putting his book down, the young werewolf took the new one from Polnareff's hold and immediately turned it around to read the synopsis. His ears twitched in amusement.
'How am I even able to differentiate his actions?' Polnareff shook his head and moved to put the groceries away.
"Are you fine with steak for dinner?" It was more of an off-handed question, as the Frenchman didn't really expect an answer in return.
"Sounds good."
Polnareff froze.
"Did you just-"
"Speak?" The redhead completed, a small teasing smile tugging at his lips.
"You- what- what made you do that?" Polnareff sputtered. He had the good mind to put the brown bags in his hold on top of the table before he fully faced the man in front of his again, though.
"What, you didn't want me to?"
"Oh non non non of course I wanted you to! I just, I was starting to think that you were not able to, like you were mute or something and thought that I was being awful by expecting you to speak and mon dieu you spoke!" Polnareff couldn't help but ramble, electing an amused look out of the man in front of him.
"…I only speak to those who I find trustworthy." Was the redhead's quiet explanation. He had shifted his gaze away as a sign of embarrassed awkwardness.
Polnareff' blinked a good number of times before a wide smile stretched his lips.
"Your sister is quite pretty."
Polnareff blinked, looking up from a medical book he was reading to look at the werewolf in front of him.
"…What?"
"Your sister, the one you have a picture off in that locket of yours." The young man elaborated. He had put his own book down and focused his attention on the confused man sitting across of him.
"I… thank you?" Polnareff continued to blink in confusion.
'Wait...'
"How do you even know about that- her- you know what I mean!" He breathed in slowly. "How do you know about my sister?"
"Wow. That took you a full 3 seconds to realize, I'm impressed." The man chuckled softly before he ran a hand through his hair. Looking Polnareff dead in the eye, his violet eyes seemed to be gleaming under the moonlight.
"Wait, wait! You're that wolf from a month ago?!"
"And the one who found your locket, too."
"THAT WAS YOU?!"
"Wow."
"You- you-"
"It's Kakyoin. My name is Kakyoin." The man half-smirked.
Polnareff blinked, stunned, for a good moment before he threw himself on the young werewolf. He hugged him tightly, rendering the poor man frozen in his place.
"お、おい… when I said I trusted you, it didn't give you a free pass to touc-"
A sniffle and a muffled "merci, Kakyoin" stopped any other word from leaving Kakyoin's mouth, he instead just sighed and patted the larger man's back.
He will have to change his shirt later.
"Polnareff, can I ask you something?"
"Sure, go ahead."
"Why did you quit your job at the hospital?"
The two were sitting on a couch. Kakyoin had yet another book in his hands, whilst Polnareff flipped through the TV channels with no real purpose.
Kakyoin had healed back to his full strength weeks ago, yet continued to visit Polnareff almost every day he can spare.
Polnareff ran a hand through his silver locks, putting the remote down and shifting to face the man beside him.
"Do I even have to ask how you knew that?"
"It's not hard to deduct. One look around your house and it's pretty obvious." The werewolf shrugged.
"For you that is." Polnareff grumbled before letting out a heavy-hearted sigh.
He looked away.
"I couldn't save the most important life to me." he whispered. "My sister, Sherry."
He shifted to fold his feet under him before continuing.
"It was three years ago when— She was brought into the city hospital in critical condition." His hands curled into fists. "A bastard had hit her with his car before running away. There were no witnessed, so that scumbag is still out there." Polnareff grit his teeth and took a shuddering breath, his eyes swimming in unshed tears.
Kakyoin didn't know how to react. He wasn't expecting such an answer.
Polnareff didn't mind the silence, taking a moment to recompose himself before continuing.
"I tried all I could, and so did the doctors, but she had lost too much blood. I couldn't help my baby sister and she died right in front of me." His tears were falling freely by this point, silent tears of anger and anguish.
Kakyoin hesitated for a long moment before very gently pressing his hand on top of Polnareff's, hoping that it would at least comfort him a little. Polnareff shifted his hand and took hold of Kakyoin's, squeezing it tightly.
"I couldn't handle the guilt. Going to the hospital everyday was suffocating me. Knowing that this was the place that I've last seen her in, I couldn't handle it. So I left, I moved out of the city and came to this village." He chuckled weakly, shifting to face Kakyoin again.
"…I'm sorry." Kakyoin didn't know what else to say. Had he known what his question would have made surface, he would have kept his curious mouth shut.
The redhead moved to stand up, but Polnareff refused to let his hand go.
A long silence passed between them.
.
.
"Can I ask you something, now?"
It was Polnareff who broke the still atmosphere, breaking Kakyoin out of his thoughts.
"Yes… Yes of course you can."
The Frenchman smiled.
"Were you born a werewolf or did someone bite you? y'know, like in the books and movies."
The werewolf blinked for a moment before he burst out laughing.
"Hey! I'm being serious here!" Polnareff found himself chuckling as well, the sight of the man next to him laughing a delight to his tired eyes.
Kakyoin tried to muffle his laughter but it wasn't easy.
"す、すまない。 " His laughter had subsided into soft giggles, but the amusement shining in his gaze didn't dim down one bit.
"Are you gonna answer me or not?" Polnareff was growing impatient.
"Okay, okay." The young werewolf sucked in a breath to recompose himself. "Yes, I was born a werewolf."
Polnareff stayed silent for a long moment, staring down at his lap with a thoughtful look on his face. When he finally looked up, his fixed his gaze on Kakyoin, blue eyes shining in full seriousness.
"Will you bite me?"
Kakyoin smacked his face with a pillow.