A/N: So, yeah, rewritten - with some maaaajor plot changes. I just wanted a few different dynamics going on than the one I had before. It's still Thrill Pair, and Royal Pair, though. (: ENJOY! Tell me what you think!
Disclaimer: I do not own POT.
"Welcome home, Lord Fuji."
The man—a thin, aged human—bowed low and deep at the waist, hair drifting into his eyes as he stared straight down upon the marble floor.
Electric cerulean orbs turned themselves onto the figure, glancing at the human before sliding closed into a smiling façade. Soft, honey-brown locks shone in the crystal chandelier lights, and a sweet smile decorated a pale face. Wordlessly, the pale man drifted forward without acknowledging any of the other humans who bowed in the same fashion as the first servant, his pale velvet robe billowing in his footsteps.
Fuji only paused when one of the maids scurried to his side, still facing the floor and obviously avoiding his eyes. "T-Tezuka-sama is here to see you, Lord," she mumbled, cheeks flushing as Fuji turned his gaze towards her head.
Fuji's pleasant smile widened, a small nod on his chin. "I see. You're excused."
The maid bowed once more and ran for the kitchen doors.
Fuji himself proceeded towards his study, an amused smile across his lips in anticipation; it had been a while since another Noble vampire had come to visit.
"Really, Fuji? Human servants? Human servants that call you Lord?"
Fuji beamed back at the serious face that greeted him. Tezuka Kunimitsu sat before him, shoulders terse and legs stretched out in a powerful, elegant stance. Dark brown locks swept cleanly over smart, silver spectacles, from which hazel eyes glared in disapproval. As always, Fuji noted, Tezuka's lips were set in a thin, incredulous line. Ahh; a face he'd much missed, Fuji smiled.
"It's not the 1800s anymore, Fuji; not many people—even the rich ones—live in such old-fashioned mansions with a herd of human servants-"
Fuji only shrugged, a light, airy movement that appeared as if took no effort at all. The pleased smile remained on his lips as Fuji laughed. "Well I'm not most people, Tezuka-"
"And the clothes? Really? Where do you even find those capes and those shoes; they stopped making them after 1876-"
"That vampyre in Osaka used to be a tailor in the 19th century-"
"Fuji."
"What?" Fuji's gaze turned innocent and began to look incredibly naïve, especially for one who didn't reveal his eyes. "It keeps me warm-"
Tezuka's expression was flat. "It's a hundred degrees outside, Fuji."
Fuji's smile turned sly. "I get cold easily, that's all-"
"Stop acting as though you can even feel the cold, damn it-"
"Language, Tezuka," Fuji tittered lightly. "Language."
Tezuka refrained from rolling his eyes, choosing instead to narrow them at Fuji. Fuji only shrugged innocently once more and continued to smile that infuriating smile of his, as if everything was fine in the world. Tezuka pursed his lips, before : "I don't understand this obsession of yours for this dramatic appearance."
Fuji shrugged for the third time that day. "I don't expect you to understand us theater-folks, Tezuka. It's okay; I accept you no matter who you decide to be, even in those cheap clothes and even cheaper car."
Tezuka flitted his eyes closed for a few moments, feeling the beginnings of a migraine seep in; perhaps today hadn't been the best choice to visit Fuji, of all vampyres. Fuji, one of the remaining seven Nobles from the Turning alongside Tezuka; sometimes, it was hard to believe that he and Fuji were from the same age, because god. Fuji was…something else. He was strange, even for a vampyre.
"This suit is a Armani, Fuji. And just because I don't go around in that ridiculous carriage of yours doesn't mean that my Lamborghini is cheap-"
"Oh, so are we showing off our wealth, now, Tezuka? Tsk tsk, time has not been kind on your personality, darling-"
"Fuji-!" Tezuka finally ground out, eyes flashing. "I simply came to make sure you were doing fine; the Hunters are getting more daring—I assume you've heard what happened to Kentarou Aoi."
Kentarou, the A-ranked Vampyre who had recently fallen at the hands of a Hunter.
Tezuka stiffened when he heard Fuji's laugh; the laugh of an amused child anticipating his own turn, as he saw his friend lose in a game of chess. Fuji only tilted his head to the side, sparkling eyes revealing themselves.
"Oh, Tezuka, don't be silly," Fuji murmured. "Kentarou was nothing but an idiotic fool. He hadn't even reached 900 years yet—Kentarou was a weakling. I thought you knew better than to compare me with Kentarou."
Tezuka sighed. "Don't let your guard down, Fuji."
"Human." A snarl, an angry, furious tremor in the deep voice. Sharp, blood red eyes narrowed with a distinct sense of hostility, and a furious growl ripped out from its throat. Its nose quivered as it took in the metallic scent that hung sickeningly thick throughout the air—the smell of freshly dropped blood, of something not human.
Pale lips curved upwards into a smirk. "Perhaps," a smooth voice replied.
The boy faced the demon evenly, easily, a nearly contemptuous smirk gracing his lips. He was very, very pale—his skin almost translucent, it glowed an unearthly color under the moon's shine. His nose, finely shaped and delicately upturned at the edge, seemed to flick upwards as the shorter boy somehow looked down upon the creature in front of him.
A thin, loose black shirt hung on his shoulders, revealing his shoulders and collarbone and the pendant that hung from his thin neck—a crystal-shaped sapphire gem encased in a spiral of silver wire. A belt wrapped around his thin waist, holding a myriad metal objects—several daggers, a pocket containing vials of various liquids, bullets, and a holster for his gun.
The holster was empty, however, because said gun was currently in his hand, pointed at the demon before him. The handle was a pure silver in color, cool to the touch at all times, and the body itself was a dark obsidian black, glittering in the light. Strange symbols dotted the dark barrel, and as the boy's hand shifted slightly, they seemed to swirl with several different colors all at once.
The boy's emerald-tinted locks framed his face and blew slightly with the breeze, and his bangs fringed his, large, cat-like, eyes that blinked with the color of molten gold and danced with the mirth and amusement of an excited child.
"What?" the creature in front of him spoke finally, breaking through the silence.
The boy laughed at the creature. What a pitiful thing, encased and trapped between the folds of time; never able to walk forward, and forever unable to be content with living in the past. True, it was an ephemerally beautiful being—more so than any other human could ever be, as it was with its kind. But the beauty would always be marred with the reality of what it really was—an abomination.
And abominations would always be eliminated by the commodity.
"I'm a human, I suppose… just not the ordinary one," the boy replied. His smirk widened and for a moment, a brilliant blue symbol flashed on his collarbone; thin, curling tendrils of lines formed in the shape of a single wing, draped across his white skin.
Red eyes widened. "You-!" The creature snarled, crouching down upon all fours. "You're a Hunter?"
The boy grinned, showing off his pearly whites in an almost feral fashion. "I guess so," was the last thing the creature heard before the boy pulled the trigger and a bullet shot out and pierced it in between its eyes.
Streaks of brilliant white shot out from the bullet upon contact, wrapping itself about the demon, squeezing and trapping. With a screech and a cry of pain, the creature burst into white flames, and within a few seconds, it was no more.
The boy blew out the trail of smoke that came from his gun's hole, casually observing the scorched ground the demon once stood on, now empty save for a few sparks still left over from the impact.
"Perfect aim, as usual," a voice approved from behind the boy, and he whirled around, gun pointed straight at the stranger.
A silvery blue-haired male smirked in amusement, staring calmly at the gun pointed at him. A hand was draped on his shoulder, and his stance was relaxed. He was dressed in a dark purple silk shirt, and the boy narrowed his eyes in disgust. Such a showy article of clothing…he could never imagine wearing such a thing. The newcomer was unarmed, but the boy could feel the unnaturally strong aura the man possessed, even from here.
Cobalt blue eyes slowly looked up from the gun to the boy that held it, and then he laughed. "Echizen Ryoma, would you please put that gun down?"
Ryoma, in one fluid movement, had holstered his gun. He shrugged, staring disinterestedly at the person in front of him. "Atobe," he addressed with a curt nod. "Back already?"
'Atobe,' shrugged back, smirking. He threaded his hand through his hair. "Ore-sama does not need long for such missions."
Ryoma rolled his eyes, and started to walk past Atobe. Atobe chuckled again and fell into pace with Ryoma. "So, brat. First mission in months, isn't it? Haven't lost your touch, I see."
Ryoma glared through his bangs. "Of course not. And don't make it sound like I was de-commissioned for a while because I wasn't good," he spat. "If Oishi-senpai weren't such a worrywart I would've been ready to go a week after that time, but-"
"But nothing," Atobe cut in. "Oishi wasn't being a worrywart. That fall broke two of your ribs and an arm—your shooting arm-"
"I can shoot just fine with both-"
"And god knew that you'd go berserk in a vampire-killing spree just to show that you weren't injured-"
"I wouldn't have-"
"Yes you would have, and then Yukimura would have had to bail you out of the local jail for causing a ruckus in public-"
"I can eliminate filth well enough without disturbing anyone-"
"Yes, like that time you once almost destroyed the Parliament building-"
"That was because the vampire had bitten everyone in the building and they all would have become vampires within the day-"
"But we can cure them as long as we can get to them within the first three hours; you just didn't want to deal with going in and finding the one vampire that caused it all-"
"It's troublesome-"
"So you decide that blowing up the Parliament building and the officials inside there is the best choice?"
"Yes."
Atobe rolled his eyes at the boy; an incorrigible brat as always, that boy was. Even after just recovering from such a serious accident!
Atobe wasn't a naïve person himself, but he often found himself thinking that perhaps Echizen - a boy merely thirteen years old - was mature beyond his years. A bit too mature, bordering on uncaring.
Humans placed so much value on the individual—perhaps just a tad too much. A man would be willing to have hundreds of strangers murdered for the sake of his one lover, but would never sacrifice his lover for hundreds of strangers. Perhaps this, Atobe mused at times, was the reason why humans had such staggering losses in this current war.
Because while their opponents were willing to use their own as shields, humans huddled together in a display of 'affection.'
And yet this boy…he wasn't calculating in a way so that he'd sacrifice his lover (if he had one) for hundreds of strangers. He was calculating in a way that he'd sacrifice whoever it was that gave him more troubles. He had no personal preference towards people, and never had Atobe seen him to develop a particular affinity to anyone.
He took the simpler way out, and it didn't matter who was sacrificed in the process.
Ryoma was…well-known, to put in light terms. He was the offspring of Echizen Nanjiroh, one of the four founders of the Ark - the strongest, largest Hunters guild, as well as the greatest threat to the Vampyres in the current war. He'd joined the Ark at the age of ten, with rumors flying of his lineage and countless taunts of how he was merely the son of whom was previously the greatest Hunter.
But one word, and the barrel of Ryoma's gun was lodged in the person's mouth, and that had been the end of that. The boy's track record talked for itself, no words necessary.
It wasn't a surprise that Ryoma had secured himself a spot in Yukimura's team - the currently reigning team, as far as Hunters went. Of course, Atobe's team had been first last year, but Yukimura had picked up both monsters Kirihara Akaya and Echizen this year.
Damn right, Atobe was bitter at his lost, but he'd soon regain his title as King.
"Echizen went out?" Sanada's face paled just a bit, and he closed his eyes as he felt another migraine coming on. He pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing desperately that he had another bottle of aspirin; he'd finished his last one the other day, when Inui had decided to terrorize the newbies, using them as test subjects.
Thank god Renji was away on a mission.
Ever since those two freaks had found one another, it was like watching Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in real life. Renji was fine - sane - on his own, but when he was with Inui, god forbid anyone stand near the two without being poisoned.
Oishi nodded, eyes frantically wide and neck swiveling about every five seconds. His eyes darted back and forth between the main entrance and Sanada, just about on the verge of hyperventilation. He bit at his fingernails and finally let out a distressed cry.
"Oh, its all my fault! I should have watched over him more! I was just so preoccupied with the new batch of rookies that—ohhh, Sanada, what if he's hurt? What'll I do then? I just-"
Sanada bit back another sigh.
Sanada really just wanted to go back to nursing Yukimura back to health, instead of trying to pry off Oishi's fingers from his shirt.
Yukimura, the captain of Rikkai Dai, who was currently sick in bed for months now, after being Bitten. The rescue team had gotten to him just a bit too late, and Yukimura had already been in the midst of Turning. Thank god Renji and Inui had been on hand; somehow, they'd manage to hold off the entire transition for just enough time for the antidote to register, but the after affects were unlike anything any of them had seen before.
His blood cells were rapidly deteriorating, the sugar levels in his blood were going haywire—one moment it was skyrocketing to the point of him barely being able to hold still and trembling, and the next, it was shooting down to dangerous levels and he was panting with the loss.
Sanada, the poor guy, was worried sick over Yukimura's condition—more so than a friend should be. Then again, everyone but Sanada himself had realized that Sanada held more affection for his captain than that of a mere comrade, but…
In any case, Atobe had gone out as well, insisting that he take the mission that was meant for him, pushing him back. Honestly, after team rankings had come out a few months before, Atobe had gone berserk on a mission-frenzy, shrieking about how he was the Emperor.
Now he had to worry for two people; honestly, there just wasn't enough of him to go around.
Sanada heaved a sigh.
Just then, the double doors burst open, and two figures strode through, bickering animatedly with one another, glaring and hissing.
"Echizen!" Oishi cried out, all but charging at the young boy, enveloping him in a tight embrace. Ryoma coughed once, then frowned in annoyance at Oishi's antics; geez, he was always such a mother-hen!
"Senpai, I'm fine," Ryoma drawled, yawning. "and tired."
"Of course you are!" Oishi berated. "You're supposed to be in bed, young man! Just what did you think you were doing?"
Ryoma shrugged. "A mission request came in and no one was around, so I took it," he said simply.
Oishi's eyes went wide. "Ryoma!" he exclaimed.
Ryoma flinched inside. Oishi rarely called him by his first name unless he was really irritated. Oh well.
In the meantime, Atobe waltzed up to Sanada, a beautiful smirk painted across his lips in a display of utmost arrogance. His blue eyes glinted as he tossed a rolled parchment at Sanada. Sanada, taken by surprise, had to scramble to catch it. When he did, he sent a dirty glare in Atobe's direction, only to find the man preening and observing his nails with fascination.
"That's the completion stamp. Tally it into the group scores. It was a Rank B mission," Atobe murmured, glee brimming from his eyes.
Group rankings were decided by how many of each ranking mission each team completed. And this one should place Hyotei's team above Rikkai Dai's-
"Oh, didn't Sanada tell you?" A snide voice was heard from behind him, and Atobe found his eyes narrowing in distaste. He turned around, and stiffened at the sight of Kirihara Akaya standing before him. That brat was a little too demonic to be human, Atobe found.
"I just finished a Rank A mission with Niou-senpai earlier," the boy sang, prancing in circles about Atobe's form. "That, and Echizen's Rank B mission has come in, too."
Atobe's face grew a bright red, before: "Little brats should be in bed at this time!" He stomped away, barking orders at one of the maids to bring him a glass of champagne.
Ryoma snickered.
"Syuu, nyaa!"
A redheaded teen bounded over towards another figure. He was lithe, with a slim build and a strange grace for someone who was so unsettled as he. His cat-like eyes blinked a bright azure, shining with mirth as his mouth curled up into a catty grin.
"Guess what, guess what?"
The other boy turned around slowly, calmly, not at all affected by the hyperactivity of his friend. He peered through the rather dark room, illuminated by but a small, old-fashioned lamp on his mahogany desk. "Hmm?" he spoke in a soft voice, melodic and quiet, but harsh with a tone of command. An ever-present smile adorned his face as he regarded his companion.
He was charmingly beautiful—his features were delicate and sweet, and yet, there was a cruelty about them. He was pale beyond reasoning, and held a thin frame that looked as though it would snap easily.
The redhead's grin grew wider. "I heard that that irritating kid, Aoi, was finally Hunted down!"
Ahh, Kentarou. The simpleton Tezuka had come to inquire about. Fuji chuckled. "Eiji, you seem so happy that one of our own got Hunted," he smiled.
Eiji snorted. "'One of our own'? That guy was always so annoying, smiling at nothing!" Eiji pouted, and Fuji chuckled.
Fuji patted his head complacently, laughing again at Eiji's expression. "All right, Eiji."
"Besides, you're supposed to be one of the awesome Vampyre leaders. You don't seem too sad at the 'loss'," Eiji pointed out, huffing.
Fuji shrugged, returning to his book. "There are lots more where he came from," he said simply, smiling as usual.
Eiji pouted, clamping his arms around Fuji's shoulders. "So, nya, there's more of me, too, nya?"
Fuji laughed. "Of course not you, Eiji."
His friend rewarded that statement with a wide smile. Eiji slipped through Fuji's arms and curled himself on Fuji's lap, purring contentedly as Fuji patted his head.
Fuji had more pressing matters to worry about, than the death of one simple pawn. Like that Hunter who took down Kentarou. Kentarou wasn't on par with himself or Eiji, of course not, but he wasn't the weakest in the Vampyric race, either. Although he was foolish, he was a descendent of one of the five original Vampyre clans—he was a pureblood, through and through.
To be taken down so easily…
Either the Hunter was skilled, or all the Hunters in general were getting much too strong.
Fuji sighed. Being a Noble tired him; ever since the other Nobles had been hunted down, the rest of the race turned to the remaining seven as though they were the keys to survival. Of course, Nobles were supposed to be unnaturally strong. It was only natural; the Nobles were from the first generation of Vampyres, most nearly a millenium old.
With age came power.
The recent lines of Vampyres had gotten weak, with Vampyres going out and turning humans into dirty, weak, unpure Vampyres. The Turned ones.
When their leaders are taken away, the group will huddle into one mob, for they are fearful. When the group huddles together, they believe that there is safety and power in numbers, and will hurry to choose a new leader—for when they have a leader, they are at least a bit safer.
At least they believe so.
Because that leader will do whatever is in his power to keep them safe, and they had someone to panic with fear to, someone who, by duty, had to protect them…someone they could control as a pawn at will when it suited them, and when it didn't, ran behind him like cowards.
Someone like him.
Vampires were supposed to be stronger, faster, better than the humans. They had the strength of twenty men alone, at the weakest. They were unbelievably beautiful, so much that it captivated many, leading to their deaths. They were creatures of the night, but could still walk in the day—all that bullshit that they wrote in the books, ranging from how they turned to dust in the sun to even ones where the sparkled in the sun (Eiji had gotten a hysterical laugh from that one) (1) was completely untrue.
They had the ability to drink the blood of other living creatures, too. They could send their victims into a euphoric state of numbing pleasure, or the deep throes of hellish pain with but a single bite. The worst thing—or the best, he supposed—was that even though they were maddeningly beautiful, their general form was still of humans.
After all, they were human once. Well, not him, of course—he was a pureblood, descended from one of the five original clans of a purely Vampiric race. He'd never known the feeling of having one's heart race, and thunder in one's chest from complete surprise. He'd never felt heat rise up in his cheeks to adorn his face with a blush when he was embarrassed.
He'd never felt his heart feel for another; not deeply, anyway.
And Eiji was…Eiji was…he wasn't quite sure what the cat-like Vampire meant to him. They weren't in love, Fuji supposed, but they weren't something too far from lovers. They'd always had this relationship, from the time Fuji first found Eiji.
Yes, he'd found him.
"Nya…?"
Fuji stared down at the boy who was curled in on himself, dirty with black streaks tainting his clothes and hair and skin. A trail of blood flowed down his neck; an obvious sign of a stupid, careless Vampire that had Bitten him and fed.
The boy was trembling, shaking with fright and pain. Despair clouded the bright blue eyes the boy possessed, and Fuji couldn't help but to smile.
He liked watching other people's pains.
And he didn't know why, but at that moment, something had possessed him to kneel down and speak to the torn boy. "What's your name?"
The boy had seemed confused, as if he was lost in a daze and didn't know anything. Then, "E…Eiji, I think. Kikumaru Eiji."
Fuji smiled. "Saa…Eiji, huh? It's a nice name."
Eiji curled in on himself even further. He was so, so scared-
"I'm Fuji. Fuji Syuusuke."
Eiji blinked curiously.
"Do you know what happened?"
Tears welled up in the other boy's eyes. "I…I…I've been Turned , haven't I?" he cried, voice broken.
Fuji smiled. "Mm."
Eiji cried harder; he'd been Turned, and would surely die here, in the hands of this beautiful, scary stranger!
But instead, Fuji extended his pale, clean hand. "Will you come with me?"
And Eiji, Eiji had looked up, tears still streaming down his face, form still utterly broken, but his eyes were shining, shining, brighter than anything Fuji had seen before. And even Fuji couldn't keep back his surprise when the other boy lunged at him, embracing him tightly, crying even louder.
Fuji's smile grew wider. "So is this a yes?"
"Yes, yes, yes, nya!"
And he wasn't bitter though, he supposed, about missing out on those human experiences. Disappointed sometimes, maybe, but not bitter, like some foolish Vampires were.
He was better than the humans; he didn't need to be one.
But ever since some particular humans had discovered that they weren't as weak as they had thought, Hunters began to form.
After all, only the strongest survive, and sometimes, to survive, one must evolve unto something else. The hunters, made up of the elite humans, who were stronger, faster, better than their fellow humans, began developing strange…powers.
Some merely stuck to using titanium chrome weapons; the only things that could actually hurt a Vampire—that is, if the one using it could even get close enough to attack the Vampire.
But others…they began to develop odd powers, almost like those the Vampires possessed. Being able to cast strange spells with their will alone, like summoning nature's powers at a flick of a wrist.
Soon, there became enough of them to form a fucking guild. They began to go around, hunting down Vampires wherever they went, leaving a trail of Vampiric ash behind them.
Some Vampires had panicked, as usual, and demanded some sort of action from him, their Prince. Fuji had merely smiled, amused. The humans and Vampires had been engaged in war at each other for domination over the planet Earth, but it was an almost one-sided war; few human states were left.
But now here, something of interest had popped up. The Hunters would prove a challenge, wouldn't they? He had dearly hoped so, when he had first heard of them.
And they had, more than he could have ever expected.
He'd watched as they attacked, again and again, striking at the Vampires. And now, it was time for him to finally react. He'd waited for the Hunters to even the odds a bit, because really, it simply wasn't fun if the fight was too one-sided.
Fuji smiled.
He opened his eyes, which were glowing brightly with the shade of sharp sapphire. "Bring in Niou, please," he murmured.
His attendant, who waited at the corner of his room for instructions, bowed and left quickly to bring in the Trickster Vampyre.
Fuji closed his eyes into the smile again, and gently petted Eiji's head.
Ryoma grunted, swiveling to the side to narrowly avoid a burst of flames that were ejected out of the wall to his left. He ducked immediately after, dodging an incoming sword that spun rapidly towards him.
"So what you're saying is," a voice panted from his left, and Ryoma glanced momentarily.
Momo, his senpai, and his friend, on his team. Eerily violet eyes, too friendly to belong to the same Hunter who was so skilled at tearing apart the limbs of a Vampyre without flinching even the tiniest bit.
"You ran out and Oishi-senpai just got really pissed."
Ryoma bent over backwards, and not a moment later, a spear shot by. "For the last time, Momo-senpai," Ryoma muttered, still bent backwards.
He jumped, landing on his hand and flipping over again to avoid several spikes in the ground. "I didn't just run out; I went out for a mission."
Momo laughed, punching through an incoming brick wall easily, not even paying attention to the object. "Whatever, man; still, Oishi's frantic face was priceless—do that again sometime!"
Ryoma rolled his eyes, jumping and finally landing on safe ground, the training course completed. "Whatever."
Momo jumped down beside him, grinning.
"So, what do you say to some food? I'm starving!"
"This is him?" Fuji's eyes snapped open at the photos brought in by Niou.
A thin, small boy, almost always wearing either an expression of extreme boredom or a bratty smirk. He was pale, possessing golden eyes and hair the color of blackened emeralds. His form held control, grace, power.
He was the Hunter that killed Ginta.
He was the famed rookie Hunter.
He was perfect.
Fuji was highly pleased, pushing aside the fact that a lot of the other photos also contained a purple-haired boy wearing glasses somewhere in the background.
This boy…Echizen Ryoma. He was so much more than what Fuji could ever have hoped for!
Eiji, who was draped across his bed and watching television, looked up when Fuji got up. "Nya?"
Fuji smiled at Eiji. "I think…I'm going out for a little while."
Eiji blinked, then grinned. "Okay, nya. Have fun!"
Fuji's smile grew wider. "I will."