"Hope clouds observation."
-Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam-
New to the fan fiction game, but eager to write. Kind of O.C. with Matsuri Hino's characters. I'm gonna try my hardest to make them as realistic as possible. Let's get this show on the road.
12:34AM.
The pureblood was late.
A huff of smoke exited his mouth as he exhaled. He looked absolutely sinful puffing his Marlboro Gold.
He wasn't a religious man, at all. But cigarettes made that twitch in his hand stop faster than you could say "Hail Mary."
The dim light of the luxurious, burgundy walled room made him fit into the scene frighteningly well. A true beast of a man. Or rather, vampire.
Attire: black Giorgio Armani suit. First three buttons undone and blue tie lazily thrown over his left shoulder. The shade complemented sapphire orbs with elegant precision. Shoes shined to perfection. The heels of his shoes added an extra two inches to his natural 5'10" frame. Now he towered.
Inhale. Puff. Exhale.
The clever gleam in his eyes almost made one forget he'd been grandfathered into the business. He knew what he was doing. Any fool able to see two feet in front of him knew that in this sick, twisted world, you had to play your cards right.
Nobody just up and did what they wanted. That privilege was reserved for purebloods, and ignorant humans.
The nobles were damned. They twirled and flirted in their gilded, decorative cages. Modelling and mingling like show dogs for the highest bidder. Male vampires, female vampires, there was no discrimination... They were all brought up as expensive antiques for sale. They were all equally fucked.
Purebloods. Nobles. The common vampire. Humans. Level E's.
The hierarchy wasn't meant to paint a pretty picture. Things were what they were.
Was he disgusted by the pureblood? Abso-fucking-lutely.
But pride be damned. Kaname Kuran was his key to success in a highly competitive, overly saturated world of elites. If money could buy you power, the world would've been at his feet by now; but that wasn't the way their world worked.
He wanted one person: Sayori Wakaba. Her chestnut hair and doe-like eyes were a breath of life in his dull, monochromatic existence. He'd watched her blossom into a woman from her years at Cross Academy up until her recent adventure as an editor at a local publishing house.
Sweet Sayori, with her books in hand and a clever gleam in her eyes. He was convinced she was his soulmate. She just didn't know it yet.
Kaname Kuran walked into the room with a dignified stride. The pureblood had a scowl on his face that matched the experiences of the over 3,000 years he'd been alive.
Was Hanabusa planning on asking him what was wrong?
Hell. No.
"Good evening, Hanabusa."
"Good evening, Lord Kuran," he unconsciously tapped on his cigarette. The embers falling to their impending demise.
"I apologize for keeping you waiting," he lied, as he took a seat at his mahogany desk. The long back of his chair resembled a king's throne, Hanabusa noted.
"Not at all. I recently arrived," Hanabusa lied in response.
"Have you started this filthy habit recently?" Kaname Kuran voiced with his characteristic apathetic tone.
Quickly noticing his slip of decorum, the blond man emitted a quick apology. He slipped the offending stick from his fingers to the palm of his hand, and froze it until it became dust. He made his way to the trashcan that lay in a corner of the room. Stepping on the apparatus that opened its lid, Hanabusa scowled as he let the dust fall from his hand into the container.
The pureblood was known for his power trips and moody demeanor. No way in hell would he fuck this up. What purebloods want, purebloods get.
Kaname Kuran curved his lips upwards, remnants of his scowl still present on his ethereal face. "We haven't spoken since you left my faction," his eyes fixated on blue ones. The predator eyed his prey with careful deliberation.
Hanabusa fought the urge to swallow. 'Here we go.'
Blinking once, he retorted, "I've had to take on the responsibilities of my father's company... I've only seen my own cousin once in the past two years." A lame excuse. It would suffice.
Kaname clucked his tongue, "Interesting..."
'Would it suffice?' Hanabusa shifted uncomfortably in place. 'Why was the room feeling so hot?'
He fought the urge to tug at his shirt. "Yes, it's been hectic. His death was a blow to all the nobles..."
After an uncomfortably long silence, the pureblood's mellifluous voice broke through.
"I can't imagine how difficult it must have been for you, Hanabusa..." slender, porcelain fingers picked up a stray bishop from the scattered chess pieces that decorated his board. They were authentic 19th century, Scottish craft. Big, sturdy, strong.
Hanabusa's eyes narrowed slightly before catching himself mid-action. He cleared his throat with effort.
'I'll be standing here all night if I don't get to the fucking point.'
Trying to fight his increasing agitation, he opened his mouth to voice his request.
"I—"
"I'm sure you do, Hanabusa. But, you know the rules."
'What the fuck? He didn't miss a beat. Alright, patience.'
"Lord Kuran, respectfully, you didn't even know what I wanted to ask." The longer he stood there, the more the pureblood's presence rankled him.
Setting the white bishop on his board's black, c1 space, Kaname sighed, "You want me to authorize you courting a human."
'So he did know... Huh.'
"All I need is your okay, Lord Kuran. That's all I'm asking for."
The pureblood intertwined his fingers, and rested his chin above the web. Blinking once, he calmly replied, "No."
Hanabusa approached the conversation with uncertainty and trepidation. But if one thing was for certain, it was that Sayori Wakaba was worth the possibility of being pulverized by the immortal monster that sat before him.
"I love her."
Kaname Kuran's mask broke for the first time in a century. He let out a barking laugh, "You haven't even had a formal conversation, and you're telling me you love her?"
It was the first time Hanabusa had seen the pureblood laugh, since they were both children. The sound scared him shitless. Was a storm a-brewin'?
"I do," he replied with every ounce of determination his stubbornness could muster.
Kaname sighed, "You don't. You're infatuated. It's different."
"I do."
A little irritated, Kaname emphasized, "You don't."
"Lord Kuran, pardon my forwardness, but I'm not a child. I've been around the block, so to speak," he bullheadedly continued. He was met by silence.
Centuries of living forced him to experience the countless algorithms of life's daily possibilities. Even with all those years of experience, sometimes he was caught off-guard. He was no match for the pureblood.
Realizing this wasn't getting him anywhere, he carelessly inquired, "Speaking of love, how is Mrs. Yuuki Kuran?"
A nearby blue vase shattered. Water splattered. Red roses flew in every direction.
But most importantly, Hanabusa realized just how badly he fucked up.
The pureblood's eyes glowed incarnadine, his stare hardening. Elongated fangs peaked out as he uttered the dreaded words, "We divorced."
Case in point. The fashionable man gulped.
Standing from his seat, the pureblood squared his jaw and elevated his chin to face his former faction member head-on.
Through the pureblood's mind ran all the ways of making the blond man suffer for bringing up his torment. His sweet, sweet Yuuki had decided she wanted to live without him. Out of respect for her autonomy, he conceded to the divorce and agreed to part ways. It pained his existence.
But he hadn't expected his ex-follower to have been so out of the loop. Was Hanabusa Aidou really that self-centered?
In a matter of seconds, the pureblood gained control over his emotions. He replied dispassionately, "I sent a letter out to all the nobles, informing them of this."
The playboy spoke, hoping to soften him up, "I've been away from my residence for months now."
"The divorce happened three months after the wedding. That was two years ago." Kuran spoke plainly.
"Oh..." he replied lamely.
"You are not to pursue this woman, Hanabusa."
"Lord Kuran, if you would just please hear me o—"
A chunk of the wooden floor in front of Hanabusa splintered.
"I said no," he warned, voice clearly angry.
Stiffening, the playboy's eyes moved from the damaged hardwood to meet his ex-leader's gaze. He balled his right hand into a tight fist, and placed his forearm across his chest. Bowing slightly, he murmured his understanding of the pureblood's orders, straightened, and promptly left the room.
Kaname Kuran was used to playing God.
But Hanabusa was a clever vampire, convinced that he could outsmart the most intelligent of men; the most powerful of vampires.
Maybe, just maybe, if he reached far enough, he could land what he wanted.
Maybe, he could outsmart God himself.
Please review! Let me know what you think.