Author's Notes: Thank you so much for favoriting and leaving reviews! As always, it continues to fuel and inspire me. 3

This chapter has lots of cross-cultural slice of life stuff, some shounen action, and tons of characters brought in. I hope it doesn't get too much of an exposition at times. Enjoy, and let me know your thoughts!


TO: Angel
[Yuuri~! Do you know of any cheap inns in the area?]

FROM: Angel
[My family runs an inn, but I wouldn't call it cheap. Why do you ask?]

TO: Angel
[My company has decided to limit our spending and I've gone grossly over budget. :( :( :(]

FROM: Angel
[Gosh, I didn't think they did that to actors at your level. If you don't mind the cramped space, you're welcome to stay with me till you find a place?]

TO: Angel
[!]


When Yuuri cracks open the door, Victor spreads his arms wide, beaming. "My knight in shining armor," he proclaims loudly.

"Um," says Yuuri, glasses slipping down his nose in shock, "I thought you said you were coming tomorrow?"

"But I couldn't wait to live with you," Victor says cheerfully.

When the Russian hunter told Christophe about the new arrangement, his partner was disgruntled. ("You didn't mention my presence just so you could bang your half-demon boy?" the Swiss man grumbles. "I'd applaud your deviousness if you weren't throwing me under a bus.") Victor felt guilty for a total of two seconds, before he swiftly looked up some affordable bed-and-breakfast inn for Christophe – "Highly rated on Trip Advisor, Chris!" – and sent the man along his way with a bright wave. Then, wasting no time, he packed his luggage and raced over to the address Yuuri had provided, which is where he currently finds himself now, standing outside Yuuri's apartment, all ready to move in.

Victor's eyes rove down Yuuri's figure, noting the rumpled black T-shirt and the old gym shorts, its elastic so loose that it hangs on the man's hips, tantalizingly exposing a patch of soft skin.

Oh yes, he definitely couldn't wait to live with Yuuri.

"I, I wasn't expecting you till tomorrow, so I haven't cleared the um, the mess," Yuuri stammers, a flush spreading rapidly across his cheeks.

"That's fine," Victor smiles reassuringly, slinging a travel bag over his shoulder and grabbing the handle of his suitcase, "I know what it's like to live alone." He's about to walk through the door when Yuuri slaps a palm on the doorframe, halting him in his steps.

"One moment!" yelps Yuuri, before he slams the door in Victor's face.

Noises can be heard from inside the apartment, little bangs and crashes, and Victor listens to the sounds with amusement. He finds it so endearing that Yuuri cares this much about his evaluation of the apartment. The Japanese man could live in a cave with blood-sucking vampire bats and Victor would still move in with him in a heartbeat.

Finally, the door reopens to reveal Yuuri again with a sheepish smile. "Sorry to keep you waiting," he says, stepping back. "Please come in."

Nodding, Victor tugs his suitcase in with him. There's a small rack of shoes to the side, and in front of him is a raised step that leads further into the apartment, a pair of fuzzy pink slippers sitting on top. Yuuri walks past him then, and it's when the other man lifts a foot to step onto the raised level that Victor realizes: he's barefoot.

"I'm not sure if you do it in your culture, but we take our shoes off before entering the house in Japan," Yuuri explains, crouching down to adjust the slippers so they're in line with each other. "I don't usually wear slippers inside, but the floor in the dining room can get pretty cold so… sorry about the color."

Victor's heart swells at the thought of Yuuri taking out these slippers just for him. The Japanese man has unknowingly reminded him of his own warm tapochki at home in Russia, and he loves the sensation of associating that word with Yuuri: home. "Nonsense," he says, making quick work of removing his shoes so he can slip his feet into the fuzzy material, "I love them."

The shy smile Yuuri flashes at him makes Victor tingle with happiness.

It's a cozy apartment, just perfect for one, maybe a little tight with two. (But Victor is certain they can make it work, of course.) Yuuri seems to have taken a minimalist approach: the living room has nothing but a flat-screen TV on the floor, a low, square-shaped coffee table, two legless floor chairs, and a short bookshelf, while the dining room holds the kitchen stove, a simple wooden table, and four chairs. The white walls in both rooms are completely bare; Yuuri didn't even bother decorating it with posters or artworks.

Victor wonders how Yuuri could have possibly made a mess with so few belongings.

"Quick tour," Yuuri announces as Victor sets down his luggage in a corner of the living room. "That's where we'll eat," he gestures at the dining room. "That's the bathroom," he twists to the side. "Here's where we'll rest, relax, and sleep," he finishes, sweeping his hand over to the living room.

At Victor's nod of acknowledgement, Yuuri crosses the living room and slides open a door at the end of the room. "This is where you can find the futon for sleeping," he points at the thick, folded mattress-looking objects tucked neatly on the bottom shelf. "And this is where clothes go," he adds, pointing to the top shelf containing clothes on hangars. Victor picks out the side of a familiar trench coat, peeking out behind the other garments, before the other man slides the door shut.

"Any questions?" Yuuri asks, turning round.

"Several," Victor says, lifting a foot. "First, what kind of flooring is this?"

"Right, you probably don't have that where you're from. It's called a tatami mat; it's more comfortable to sleep on than a regular wood floor."

"And a futon is a mattress of sorts?"

"Mattress and covers." Yuuri bends over to tap on the coffee table. "When I'm ready to sleep, I shift this and the chairs to the side and lay out the futon. After I wake up, I stow it in the closet and shift the chairs and table back."

"Wow," says Victor, eyes sparkling, "This is all so new and fascinating."

Yuuri laughs softly. "I hope it's not too overwhelming."

"Not at all! I just have one last question."

"Sure."

"Where do you keep your weapons?"

Yuuri blinks, before a smile spreads across his face, and he gestures for Victor to move aside. Silently, Victor obeys, watching with curiosity as the other man sinks to his knees. There's a scant few seconds in which Yuuri runs a finger down a patterned border, before – to Victor's astonishment and absolute thrill – he drives both palms down onto the edge of a mat with such force that the other end flips upwards like a see-saw.

"Most people don't use the storage unit under their mats anymore, so no one would think to look in here," Yuuri says as Victor steps forward to peer into the opened space. "You can stow your bow in here if you'd like." Lying inside is indeed the extraordinary-looking spear, long and sharp, a grinding stone, presumably for sharpening the spear's blades, and pads of papers with Japanese writings lined up in the corner.

"You're just full of surprises," Victor breathes, feeling his cheeks warm with excitement.

Yuuri blushes ever so prettily.


After Victor takes a shower – which Yuuri has to demonstrate the use of after the Russian man nearly scalds himself turning the wrong knob – he helps Yuuri to shift aside the furniture to make way for the Japanese-style mattresses, observing with anticipation as the smaller man carefully lays out the first futon across the mats.

It's going to be their first night together, with Yuuri's slender body right next to his, shirt riding up, and warm breath against his –

Victor's eyebrows shoot past his bangs when Yuuri spreads the second futon some distance away from the first.

"What are you doing?" he asks before he can stop himself.

Yuuri looks up, eyes wide behind the lenses. "Um… laying out the futon?"

"Yes, but they're not…" Victor lines up his forefingers together.

Almost instantaneously, Yuuri's face flares a bright tomato red, glasses fogging up from the heat of his flush. "I, I, I'd rather we sleep apart!" he chokes out, backing away with the futon so quickly that his back hits the wall behind with a resounding smack.

"Why?" Victor says with a pout, "I was so hoping we'd sleep together."

Yuuri freezes, like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Ah, I mean, the act of sleeping," Victor adds, belatedly realizing what he just said.

Unfortunately, Yuuri doesn't seem to have registered the correction. A strange sort of calm falls over the Japanese man, expression going blank. Then mutely, he smoothens out the futon near the wall, turns off the lights, and clambers into the mattress.

All while Victor is left standing at the side of the living room, stunned by the sudden turn of events.

"Yuuri?" the Russian man ventures after a moment.

Dead silence.

Sorrowfully, eyes still adjusting to the darkness, Victor feels about on his hands and knees for his futon, before slipping under the covers.

Lesson learned: push Yuuri too far and he shuts down.


FROM: Grumpy
[Victor, where the hell are you?]

FROM: Grumpy
[Victor! We need you back here!]

FROM: Grumpy
[I KNOW YOU'RE READING THIS YOU FUCKER ANSWER ME]

"It's early for so many messages," Yuuri remarks.

Victor turns his phone over. "Just a random group chat. Nothing important." Closing his eyes, he rests his cheek on a fist, breathing in the delicious smell wafting from the stove.

Thankfully, Yuuri has recovered from last night. There was a brief moment earlier when both of them blurted out apologies in unison, Yuuri explaining that he tends to withdraw when he gets too overwhelmed with emotions, and Victor stating that he tends to speak without thinking. And then they shared a laugh and all was well again. (Victor never felt so relieved.)

Now, the angel is at the stove, humming occasionally as he cooks breakfast for two. Sitting at the dining table, Victor can't help but consider himself the luckiest man in the world. He's even more delighted when breakfast is served, revealing to be a traditional home-cooked Japanese meal of rice, pickled vegetables, egg rolls, and broiled salmon. A bowl of fragrant miso soup is set down beside the small dishes, completing the meal perfectly.

"Sorry I don't have bread in the house," Yuuri says sheepishly as he hands Victor a pair of chopsticks. "I was going to get it this morning so you could have toast, but you came earlier than expected."

"No, please," Victor exclaims, snapping pictures of the meal with his cellphone, "I want to eat everything you eat!"

Pulling up a seat across from Victor, Yuuri chuckles. "You might want to taste it first. Are chopsticks okay? I have utensils if you'd prefer – "

Victor reaches out to lay a hand on Yuuri's. (Blush count tally: 16.) "Chopsticks are just fine," he assures with a smile.

The meal is the most scrumptious food he's ever eaten, and it warms his heart to know that he manages to please Yuuri with his reaction, especially when he asks the other man for a second helping of rice. He will never get enough of Yuuri's modest, shy smile; in fact, every glimpse of it makes him crave it more and more, like a growing addiction with Yuuri as his drug.

After they've eaten, Victor insists on washing the dishes despite Yuuri's strong objections. It's the least he can do after everything Yuuri has done for him.

"Yuuri," Victor says over the running water, "Do you have an instagram account?"

"I do but I hardly post," Yuuri replies from the living room. Victor hears the rustle of fabric, and he keeps his eyes trained on the dishes, reminding himself that Yuuri probably wouldn't appreciate being ogled while changing in his own home. The last thing he wants is a repeat of last night.

"Can I follow you? I want to tag you in the picture of your lovely cooking."

"Sure, it's just my full name with a hyphen in the middle."

"One 'u' or two?"

"Two."

Drying his hands on a towel, Victor snatches up his phone to swiftly follow Yuuri's account, upload the picture, and insert the tags. He's eager to share his happiness with the whole world, and it quite literally will be the whole world, given his status as an international star. Within minutes, the 'likes' and comments section erupt with responses, just as Yuuri's phone starts buzzing urgently on the dining table.

christophe-ge My bed squeaks, the floor squeaks, and the old man that runs the inn also squeaks. You owe me big, my friend.
yuri-plisetsky YOU ASSHOLE
yuri-plisetsky RESPOND TO MY DAMN MESSAGES
phichit+chu omg so married (*≧▽≦)

"I hope that's not my client cancelling," Yuuri huffs as he runs into the room to grab his phone, "Sometimes they decide they don't need an interpreter at the last minute." His dress shirt is blue this time, a shade lighter than his coat, matched by a pair of chic black slacks. Black is Yuuri's color, Victor decides, eyes dropping down to follow the curve of a firm behind as the other man turns round to answer the call.

"Hello – " Yuuri barely places the phone to his ear before he jerks away, eyes wide. Even from across the table, Victor can hear something high-pitched and shrill on the other end. Tossing Victor an apologetic look, Yuuri walks to the living room, replying to the caller in Japanese, phone still held about an inch away from his ear.

Victor surmises that it must be an overly excited client, but his guess turns out to be wrong when Yuuri suddenly rushes back into the dining room, eyes nearly bulging out of his sockets. "Take off the tags!" he yelps frantically, "Take them off right now!"

Victor blinks. "The tags?"

"On your instagram post!"

"Why?" Victor says, cocking his head to one side in bewilderment.

Yuuri sticks a hand in his hair, looking as though he's about to yank out tufts of the black strands in his panic. "Hash tag domestic bliss? Hash tag luckiest man alive?" he gasps. "You make it sound like we're newlyweds!"

"But that's the point," Victor beams proudly.

There's a pause as Yuuri gapes at Victor, hand still in his hair.

Vaguely, Victor catches his name being called several times on Yuuri's phone. Yuuri must have heard it too, because he snaps out of his trance, slams his phone down on the table, and taps on the speakerphone icon. "I need to do a last minute check on a script for work," he says, hurrying back to the living room, "You explain it to her."

"Who's her?" Victor calls after Yuuri.

"Yuuko, my childhood friend!"

"Um," says Victor in the silence that follows. There's a sound of papers being riffled through hurriedly in the next room. Clearing his throat, Victor puts on his most charismatic voice for fans. "Hello, Yuuko," he drawls.

"O-Oh my god," breathes a female voice on the line, her English slightly lilting in a Japanese accent. "Victor Nikiforov? For real? The actor Victor Nikiforov?"

"Yes, this is Victor speaking."

The only reply is the loud sound of something falling heavily to the ground.

"Yuuko?" Victor says hesitantly. "Are you all right?"

"She probably just fainted, I'll call her back later," Yuuri says with a sigh, striding back into the dining room with a briefcase in hand. Swiping the phone off the table, he slides it in the back pocket of his slacks, and Victor finds himself feeling envious of a damn mobile device. "I have to run, but I'll meet you back here for a mission tonight?"

Victor perks up, eyes shining. "A mission?"

"I was going to tell you about it before this whole commotion with Yuuko," Yuuri smiles wryly. "You're still up for it, right?"

"Of course."

"Great, I'll see you tonight then. Thanks again for doing the dishes." Yuuri has just rounded the corner to the entranceway when his head pops back, a frown on his face. "Also, take the tags off."

Pouting, Victor swipes at his phone to access the application. "Fine."

He conveniently forgets to remove '#domesticbliss'. Just because.


"We'll have to meet our contact first, which works out great since you'll need new weapons."

Victor has just pulled on his standard grey T-shirt and black pants for hunting assignments, when his gaze is instantly drawn to the curve of Yuuri's bare back, the lean muscles rippling before disappearing under the leather material sliding over them. Up close, Victor realizes that Yuuri's battle wear of choice consists of not one, but two pieces of leather garments: a sleeveless V-neck vest and pants. The fabric hugs a sinfully taut body, clearly accentuating every line and curve. The hunter's mouth goes dry as he watches Yuuri zip up the vest, wondering how it would feel to pull that same zipper down with his teeth.

So much for not ogling Yuuri in his own home.

" –tor, are you listening?"

Victor smiles beatifically. "I'm sorry, what?"

As Yuuri slips into his trench coat – Victor mourns the loss of those toned arms from view – he laughs, shaking his head. The mess of black hair has been artfully slicked back, adding a sense of rakish sensuality to Yuuri's appearance, despite the man's innocent claims that he's only doing it so he won't have hair falling in his eyes. (Yuuri also revealed, much to Victor's amusement, that the spectacles he wears in the daytime possess no degree and are his version of a Superman identity switch. How can one person be so dorky and so sexy at the same time?) "Never mind, you'll probably hear a repeat of what I just said from Seung-gil anyway."

"Seung-gil?" Victor asks as Yuuri opens the storage unit for their weapons.

"That's the name of our contact," says Yuuri, tossing Victor his bow and quiver of arrows. "Youkai sightings are typically recorded by the Exterminator Society, but since I'm not a member and Phichit's a foreigner, we need a contact and Seung-gil's our guy."

"Would I still need my arrows?" Victor says, tugging on his leather jacket. "They won't work here, will they?"

"Take them with you," Yuuri suggests, replacing the mat carefully, "Seung-gil might want them in exchange. He's more interested in Western hunting methods than he wants people to believe."

"Seung-gil sounds like an interesting person."

"He is," Yuuri nods in assent. "Oh, and tie this to your quiver strap."

Raising an eyebrow, Victor takes a flimsy piece of paper from Yuuri, noting the crude ink drawing of a single closed eye on it. "What does this do?"

"That's just a precaution. Normal humans won't be able to see any object with that charm attached to it." Yuuri lowers his sansetsukon to indicate a piece of paper tied tightly at the bottom of the top blade. "Saves us from having to explain why we're carrying weapons around at this time of night."

"Am I not a normal human?" Victor chuckles as he wraps the paper delicately round the strap of his arrow quiver.

"Hunt enough supernatural creatures and they rub off on you," Yuuri shrugs. Then, wielding his spear, he flashes an uncharacteristic smirk, and Victor shivers with unadulterated excitement at finally seeing this side of Yuuri again. "Ready?"

"Always," Victor purrs in response.


Lee Seung-gil, also known as 'the contact', is the curator of a local history museum located in the far edge of town. It's a small enough museum with display items that the locals consider to be of little monetary value, so Seung-gil gets away with having virtually no security on the premises, effectively allowing the museum to be a base of operations for youkai related activities.

Victor immediately grasps why Seung-gil was granted such special privileges when Yuuri leads him through the dark museum: the museum collections comprise of supernatural relics and artifacts, tools that a normal person may find eccentric enough to browse but certainly not to steal. He's amazed; as one who dabbles in the supernatural realm, Seung-gil has chosen quite shrewdly to hide in plain sight.

Reaching a heavy oak door at the end of the museum, Yuuri raps his knuckles in a rhythmic pattern against the wood.

"Come in," answers a quiet voice from inside.

It looks like a cramped office space, with books strewn across the floor and papers piled up on a large desk. Two men are seated in the middle, engaged in some sort of colorful card game with intense concentration. While one man is dressed in a well-pressed business suit, the other stands out with his dark skin and shiny, bronze armor, its surface covered from top to bottom with intricate patterns. On the side of his head, tilted at a jaunty angle, sits the green mask of a beastly face twisted in a ferocious expression.

"Are you still playing Koi-Koi?" Yuuri clicks his tongue.

The man in armor looks up then, a wide smile brightening his handsome face. "Yuu~ri!" he says joyfully, rising to his feet. Victor recognizes the singsong quality right away. "You actually brought Victor Nikiforov? I thought you were joking!"

"Why would I joke about that?" Yuuri laughs, dodging as Phichit tries to throw his arms around him in a friendly bear hug. "Phichit, I told you, your armor has sharp edges."

"Aw, your healing abilities will take care of that."

"That's not what they're for – Phichit!"

Victor feels the side of his face twitch with irritation as Phichit manages to yank a shrieking Yuuri into his embrace – "Ow ow ow!" – before Yuuri slams a palm against Phichit's jaw, shoving the other man's head back, and the two start play-fighting like an old married couple. He knows Yuuri said they're only friends, but this seems to cross the boundaries of regular friendship. That, and Yuuri has never been quite as comfortable with him.

"Your jealousy is showing, Victor Nikiforov," snorts the other man. He's standing now, arms folded across his chest as he studies Victor with narrowed eyes. "So a world-class actor and model is also a demon hunter."

Victor nods, tearing his attention away from the youkai exterminators. "Seung-gil, I presume."

"You presume right," Seung-gil smirks. He jerks his head towards Yuuri. "Gumiho said you need new weapons?"

"Gumiho?" Victor says, a fine brow arching, but Seung-gil is now circling him like a vulture watching over its dying prey.

"You're an archer," Seung-gil observes quietly; it's a statement, not question. "I never thought Western hunters had the sophistication for such an artful skill."

Victor bristles before he recalls Yuuri's words: Seung-gil may not be as disdainful of hunters as he portrays. "That's why I'd like some blessed arrows for the mission," Victor smiles charmingly, keeping a tight rein on his temper. Besides, it wouldn't do to offend the one person who could prevent him from joining Yuuri on a mission.

"Hmm," says Seung-gil, the stoic expression shifting into a pensive look. "And what will you give me in exchange?"

"These," Victor pulls out the arrows in his quiver, holding them up for Seung-gil to inspect. "They're coated with silver."

"What a stroke of luck," Phichit whistles at the side, "You've always wanted to study the properties of silver, haven't you?"

Shooting Phichit a wry look, Seung-gil takes the arrows and makes a concerted attempt at pretending to examine the tips, twisting them about idly.

Victor feels a hand on the small of his back and he turns to see Yuuri standing by his side. "Told you he'd be interested," Yuuri whispers, though all Victor can focus on is the comforting weight of Yuuri's hand resting above his jacket, "He just thinks it's beneath him to accept Western ways."

As if on cue, Seung-gil tucks the arrows under an arm, nodding. "They'll do," he shrugs nonchalantly, before beckoning towards Yuuri. "Walk with me to the supplies room, Gumiho. I have something I need to tell you."

Sighing, Yuuri trails after Seung-gil as the curator strides out of the office. "What is the Society up to this time?" the Japanese man asks before the door closes behind them.

"And then there were two," Phichit says with a grin. He saunters up to Victor and stretches out a hand. "Nice to finally meet you in person. I'm Phichit."

"A pleasure," Victor replies, grasping the offered hand with a firm shake.

"Yuuri tells me you know about his youkai blood. That's a big step for my buddy."

"Is it?" Victor thinks back to the hesitation in Yuuri's face at the restaurant. "I'd imagine not too many people are receptive to the idea."

"'Not receptive' is putting it mildly." Phichit sweeps a stack of papers off the desk and flops down on the cleared space, crossing his legs. (Victor doesn't think Seung-gil is going to be too happy about that.) "How much did he tell you, exactly?" the Thai man asks, leaning forward to rest his chin in his hands.

"That his youkai side is a result of a family curse and that it comes out when his body is in a fight-or-flight response."

"And?"

"That's all I've been told."

Phichit's eyes soften. "…I see."

Victor frowns at the quieting of the other man's voice. "Is there something else I should know?" he asks, but Phichit has already hopped off the desk and pulled his cellphone out of thin air.

"Did Yuuri also tell you that I make money off my adorable hamsters?" the Thai man chirps brightly, shoving a youtube video of tiny hamsters ambling about in tiny handmade suits into Victor's face. "Aren't they cutest things you've ever seen?"

Accordingly, Victor gives polite compliments, smiling as Phichit shows him another video, but he knows a diversion when he's in one. Phichit isn't even being subtle about it.

So there's more to Yuuri's youkai blood. That's just as well, thinks Victor, absently nodding every once in a while as Phichit starts describing the different hamsters in his little rodent family. He adores surprises, and he would never have fallen for an ordinary human, after all, not this hard. And now that they live together – hash tag domestic bliss – he will have all the time in the world to learn about the beautiful half-youkai.

The door opens, before Seung-gil spots the fallen papers and yells blue murder at Phichit for messing up his filing system. ("You call that a filing system?" Phichit cackles while Seung-gil indignantly rears up to full height.)

Yuuri enters behind the curator, a subdued expression on his face, eyes cast downward.

Victor frowns, making a beeline for Yuuri. He definitely doesn't like that look on the other man's face. "What's wrong?" he asks softly, taking Yuuri by the elbow. "What did Seung-gil say to you?"

"It's nothing," Yuuri replies, gazing up with a smile that Victor knows all too well – the very same mechanical smile that he gives the rest of the world. "I have your arrows," he quickly adds, holding up said items, wrapped in a thick cloth, "All we need is a location and some information about our target and we're good to go."

"Yuuri," Victor says, tightening his grip on the other man's arm as he starts to turn away, "You'll tell me if something's wrong, won't you?"

A glimpse of sadness crosses Yuuri's face, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. "I will," he says, and Victor learns then that his angel is a horrible liar.


"Your next target is a lizard youkai in the northern part of the forest. It's been a real nuisance, feeding on hikers that venture a little too deep into its territory. Its rank has recently been raised to an A after it slayed a number of A-level exterminators. Sightings report that it's quite large, about twice the size of a crocodile. Other than that, it's play-by-ear as usual."

"What do the ranks indicate?"

In disbelief, Seung-gil stares at Victor. "Did Gumiho not explain anything to you?"

"He probably did," Victor replies cheerfully to Phichit's sniggers and Yuuri's soft smile, "I just wasn't listening."

Seung-gil drags a palm down his face in exasperation. "Ranks indicate the youkai's level of danger or threat posed to others, with D as the lowest rank and S as the highest. The same system applies to exterminators, with higher-level exterminators possessing stronger, more powerful abilities."

"What level are Yuuri and Phichit?"

"They've never gone through the tests to achieve a rank," Seung-gil shrugs.

Victor watches as Yuuri walks up front, blue trench coat stark in the darkness. "Does Yuuri usually lead in missions?" he asks Phichit next to him. The Thai man has somehow materialized a sword with a bejeweled hilt, holding it in a defensive stance as they move.

"Sometimes," Phichit whispers, "Especially on days like today when he's in a bit of a mood. He gets antsy for a fight when he's moody."

"He's been that way since his conversation with Seung-gil."

"I noticed. Any conversation about the Exterminator Society tends to bring him down."

"Why the Exterminator Society?"

"Shh," Yuuri shushes abruptly. His head turns, and Victor sees a flash of that gorgeous gold in the dark. "I hear something."

"Does it sound like a big, hungry lizard?" Phichit says, grinning.

"I don't know what a big, hungry lizard sounds like, but – eight o'clock!"

The blade of Phichit's sword sparks as the Thai man spins just in time to parry a sudden blow from above. A blurry outline of some beast flickers in front of Phichit, and something roars, echoing through the forest.

"Camouflage ability," Yuuri's golden eyes narrow. "How could reports miss that?"

"Little help here," Phichit yells, his armored boots scuffing in the dirt as he's pushed backwards by the invisible force.

Spinning his spear, Yuuri strikes at the air above Phichit. The heavy weight on Phichit releases with a scream, and the Thai man recovers swiftly, swinging wildly at nothingness with his sword.

"Two o'clock," Yuuri barks; Phichit whips to the right, throwing his sword up, sparks flying again.

"Do I smell extra tasty today or something?" Phichit complains.

Victor squints hard to make out the creature's flickering outline. It's transparent at best, invisible at worst – a nigh impossible opponent for an archer – but he's determined to make some contribution to the mission. It's his first mission with Yuuri, damn it. Stringing arrows to his bow, he releases them in rapid succession at the wavering form. He's rewarded by a howl of pain, before there's a sudden rustle of leaves, signaling the youkai's fast, slithering movement across the ground.

"Victor," Yuuri shouts.

Victor turns; the Japanese man has started running towards him, spear brandished.

"Yuuri?" the hunter tenses, reaching for another arrow.

"Duck!"

Without thinking, Victor obeys Yuuri's sharp command. Seconds after he drops to the ground, he feels a breeze of weaponry whistle through the air over his head, hears the creature's furious roar behind him. Then he looks up to see Yuuri glide over him in a graceful arc, the three segments of his spear – segments, Victor thinks with a thrill racing down his spine – whirring back by silver chains to reform the full shaft. Victor rises up, watching Yuuri's blades slice at the seemingly empty air, sparking on impact and moving so fast that the motions are a blur.

The Russian man is stretching back for an arrow when a hand drops on his shoulder.

"Leave Yuuri to it," Phichit says, removing his hand to rest it on a cocked hip, "He needs the release and we'd just get in the way."

Victor pauses, before he nods slowly. It's hard to fight an opponent that can't be captured by the naked eye and Yuuri seems to be holding his own. "How can he see that creature?"

"That'd be his youkai abilities. Heightened senses. Speed." Phichit's lips curl in a proud smirk. "Throw in his super fast regenerative abilities and he's pretty much your average overpowered fighter that everyone loves to hate."

Some distance away, coat flying, Yuuri is flipping backwards with the elegance of an Olympics gymnast, evading some invisible attack that rips deep furrows into the forest dirt.

"Why haven't you and Yuuri taken the tests for exterminator ranking?"

"Overrated,' Phichit snorts. "Yuuri's skills are way over S-level, hands down, and I'm a Yaksha, so that speaks for itself."

Victor tilts his head. "A Yaksha?"

"Yep. I come from a family line of Yaksha, which are like Thai guardians, sort of, blessed with powers by the deities to protect the good and the righteous."

"Is that the real reason you're here?" Victor asks quietly. "To protect Yuuri?"

Phichit blinks. "I guess you could say that," he murmurs after a while, "Not that he needs it."

Simultaneously, both men turn their gazes to Yuuri who has leapt up and driven his spear downwards into the ground.

The scream is piercingly loud this time, and the youkai finally makes its appearance, writhing round Yuuri's blade. At least reports are accurate on the size, with the reptile-like creature spanning at least 30 feet, its massive claws carving grooves in the dirt with its agonized thrashing.

Withdrawing the blade, Yuuri thrusts down a second time, straight through the youkai's head. With a final howl, the wretched creature swells and swells like a balloon, before bursting into little glitters of light.

When Yuuri turns back to smile radiantly at Victor, cheeks flushed with triumph and gold eyes gleaming, surrounded by sparkling white lights, Victor cannot help but fall for his beautiful angel all over again.


"Victor."

"But you were such a sleeping beauty with your wet hair, and your serene face, and the way you curled up on the covers – "

"…"

"… fine, I'll take off the tags."

"All of them."

"Spoilsport."


Extra

tapochki - indoor slippers

Koi-Koi is a card game in Japan/Korea that's played with Hanafuda cards. In Korean, the cards are called Hwatu. (Summer Wars, anyone?)

I just love the idea of Phichit and Seung-gil constantly playing Koi-Koi in their free time. Like they'd both get super competitive and just keep taking turns at beating each other and getting upset about it.

Also, I took some creative liberties on the abilities of Yaksha. :D;