Beta: Youkai Kisaki
A/N: As promised, Ryoma in this chapter. Also, a flash from the past, but it will be the last one. After this chapter the story's staying in the present.
Ryoma kicked the metal door with the sole of his bare foot, hoping that the hinges were so rusted that the door would fall down. But the only thing his kick succeeded in doing was create noise and even that wasn't loud. Just a small bump that probably wouldn't even be heard by anyone but him.
Yanagi had dragged him through the city and Ryoma had stumbled all the way through wet and cold asphalt, prowled through gravel and cool crass, trying not to cry when he stepped on a sharp rock and fell on his knees. Yanagi had refused to stop and wait for him to get up and simply dragged him along.
By the time they'd arrived to the garden of a two storied house Ryoma had been exhausted, bruised and bleeding. He'd cut himself on a piece of glass at some point and so he left bloody footprints on the pale cement of the stairs leading up to the front door.
Yanagi had shoved him through the door and continued shoving him in the back every time Ryoma stopped in the narrow corridor to look inside the empty rooms that lacked even curtains. They continued like this, Yanagi giving him a push every time he slowed or turned in the wrong direction. They passed a staircase leading upstairs and Ryoma glanced over his shoulder at Yanagi. He got slapped in the head for it and fell down, knocking himself unconscious against the wall. When he'd woken he'd been inside this small room with no furniture, white stone walls and a metal door with no handle on it. There was a light bulb hanging from the roof, and no windows.
Ryoma banged both his fists against the door and leaned his weight on his arms, pressing them against the door. Like the rest of the room, the door was painted white. Everything in the room was white, the plastic covering on the floor, even the wire that the light bulb hung from. But the light was a golden yellow like the colour of a tennis ball, or the shine on Karupin's fur when the light hit it in the right angle.
He missed home, his own bed, his cat, even his stupid father.
Groaning, Ryoma turned around and slid down with his back pressed against the door. "Let me out!" he screamed at the ceiling. "You fucking bastard, let me go home!"
The door opened and Ryoma fell back and stared up at another white ceiling. When he realised someone must have opened the door, he rolled over to his stomach, pushed up and scrambled away from the door.
He'd expected to see Yanagi but the man standing in the doorway was someone he'd never seen. The pale skin and crimson lips were enough to tell him it was another vampire. The creature looked almost fragile, with delicate features that made it impossible for Ryoma to describe him as anything other than beautiful. He was smiling and it was the most enchanting smile Ryoma had ever seen, but the eyes looking down at Ryoma were the most frightening thing he had ever seen.
There was nothing calm or gentle in them, nothing soft or yielding. Hard, violent anguish turned to madness, sadness that had twisted itself to lust and a hunger to see suffering. And it was all directed at him.
The creature stepped closer and Ryoma crawled back, yet not fast enough. He was caught by his wrists and forced to look deep into those terrifying eyes. And he could not look away; he was lost in the sheer maliciousness of the creature.
The man's mouth did not move, but Ryoma heard his voice resonate in his mind. "What is it in you that makes you so different? It cannot be your mortality alone? How have you survived, lived?"
Ryoma didn't have an answer, didn't even understand what had spurred the questions, but the creature sought the answer on his own, playing his memories like scenes from a movie, making his own conclusion and leaving Ryoma to make his own. The time he had thought death was his fate was the one repeated over and over, words Ryoma spoke to Atobe and Fuji played over and over again till they sounded like a broken record.
"You refuse to die."
Ryoma's wrists were released and he stumbled back, tripped on the too large jeans and fell on his back. He flinched from the dull pain caused by the hard floor impacting with his bruised body and snapped, "Is that supposed to be some kind of big realisation? What kind of an idiot would just die?"
The creature looked at him like people used to look at him when he was twelve and slammed a twist shot in their face. "You think it's common to find a person like you, with so much hunger and passion just for living?" The creature spoke aloud for the first time, the sound of his voice just as alluring as the creature itself. But the danger, the madness was absent in the tone of his voice. He sounded so kind and gentle that Ryoma would have felt comforted if he had not seen the cruelty and madness, had not felt this thing, rummage through his brain. "There are not many, who do not somewhere in the dark corners of their souls, harbour a wish of oblivion."
The creature leaned forward, brought his face so close that his nose was almost touching Ryoma's. Locking eyes with the boy, he whispered, "And you, you live so much in the present, and so fully it is almost frightening, your desire for life. Any fear you face you challenge and seek a way to make it a strength, instead of a weakness. But boy, do you know how dangerous it is to tempt a vampire by willingly placing your life in their hands?"
"What the hell are you talking about, I haven't-" Ryoma's argument was cut when the man pressed a hand over his mouth to silence him.
"You want the blood that gives you the strength to challenge this terror that the presence of an unnatural monster like me awakens in you. Once you give someone everything you have, there are no guarantees that anything shall be returned." The man's hand no longer prevented Ryoma from speaking, but it was still gently pressed against his mouth. "That is what it means for a vampire, to make a fledgling. With their blood you take them all in you, make them yours and once the blood is changed, return it with a small part of yourself and only a memory of that joining will remain with the maker."
The man pressed the tips of his fingers under Ryoma's jaw, tilted his head up and spoke with his mouth against Ryoma's lips. "Monsters are greedy beings. And you are tempting enough that should he have all of you, he might not wish to part from even a small part of it and I do not believe he wishes to lose you. It is no wonder Atobe refused you both."
"Both?" Ryoma couldn't help but ask. As far as he had known, he was the only one Atobe had ever left alive and to suddenly hear from a stranger that there had been someone else made him ridiculously jealous.
"When Fuji was still human, he was Atobe's little pet," the man replied with a pleased smile. "But like with you, Atobe refused to make him immortal. Fuji found someone else to grant him his wish, and so have you." The smile widened and finally reached his eyes, making them warm and affectionate. "I'll grant you your wish, and give you immortality. I will make you as powerful as he is and then you will destroy him.
"Huh?" Ryoma blinked, shook his head and played the words over again in his mind. He had no real reason to hate Atobe, why would he destroy him? It didn't make any sense. "He's an asshole, but I don't want him dead," Ryoma muttered, for a moment forgetting to worry about the monster facing him.
The man laughed and stroked Ryoma's face gently. "Oh you will hate him, because everything I do to you will be because of him." Before Ryoma could push back the man took a fistful of his hair and pulled hard, making the boy's eyes water from pain. "I don't care what I have to do to you, even if I have to crush you completely and rewrite your personality, in the end you will think of nothing but his destruction. You will come to beg me to let you make him suffer."
Ryoma was trembling, the fond caresses of the man's fingers along his jaw felt more menacing than the painful grip on his hair and he couldn't even keep his voice from shaking when he asked, "Why the hell would you do something like that?"
"Because of love," the man answered in wistful tone, calmly, like it was reasonable to want someone to suffer because of love. "Because I loved him from the very beginning and because he might come to love you."
Then the man kissed him, gently on the corner of his mouth, his fingers still pulling painfully on Ryoma's hair. The next kiss was placed on his lips, with more force and then the teeth bit down. Ryoma felt his warm blood flow from the cut on his lip to his chin, and its salty taste filled his mouth and all he could think of was the glorious creature holding him.
1793
London, England
After three years, Sanada finally returned to the group of vampires he in the privacy of his own mind called a family. He knew that out of all of them, Kirihara was perhaps the only one to share that sentiment with him. For someone that had been alone at the beginning of his life, to suddenly be part of a group so closely bound together as they… It meant more to him than it did to any of the others.
During the years he had been gone he had not been in contact with the others. Yukimura could have easily reached him with his mind even across oceans, but had never done so. Yanagi was just as capable, but the fact that he had not tried to contact Sanada meant that Yukimura had forbidden it.
Atobe, if he had tried, might have been able to do to same as the others but the power of the mind was not something Atobe appreciated, so he never even tried to test its limits. When he did use them, it was usually on pure instinct and always with more strength than necessary. He had once told a man that irritated him to move aside, and the man had walked with a little sideway-lean ever since.
The reason why Sanada had not initiated contact with either of them was simple. He knew his master, knew Yukimura did not want him to speak with either, wanted him to be completely isolated from the others, to feel alone.
Sanada paused before the front door of the house, closed his eyes, and tried to imagine what or who would welcome him inside. An image of Atobe and his cold eyes turning warm flashed across his mind, quickly chased away by the image of his master. How strange it was, that even the imagined figures he conjured of them always seemed to be in conflict with each other.
Finally, after one of the neighbours still out began to make their way over with a suspicious frown on his face did Sanada step inside.
Kirihara was descending the stairs that led down to the front hall and the moment their eyes met, Sanada's name was shouted loud enough for it to be heard all through out the house, yet only Yanagi appeared.
"You have finally returned." Yanagi brushed past Kirihara and greeted him with a smile. "Yukimura will be pleased when he comes back and sees you."
"He is not here?"
"Out, chasing after Atobe," Kirihara said, waving his hand.
Yanagi frowned at Kirihara, then turned to Sanada and explained. "They go hunting together, if you can call it that. Yukimura stands by and watches when Atobe feeds."
"He's been taking more than five a night," Kirihara told him with an eager grin. "He's even killed a few vampires. Told me the blood's different, thicker."
"Vampires?" Shocked, Sanada looked at Yanagi. "Yukimura has not intervened? If he keeps taking their blood-" Sanada glanced at Kirihara, not sure he wanted reveal what he almost had to the unbalanced younger one.
"Yukimura knows, and does not care," Yanagi answered even if Sanada had not finished. "He's indulging him because of Kabaji."
"Has something happened to Kabaji?"
"Dead," Kirihara said, dragging his finger across his throat and letting his tongue hang from his mouth
"A fever of some kind." Yanagi added to the explanation, knowing Sanada would want to know. "The doctor could do nothing and when he passed it was daylight. But Atobe had brought a priest here so he was not alone."
"How long ago?" Sanada asked.
"Only a few days. The body has already-" Yanagi's words were cut when the front door banged open and Atobe stormed inside, a furious Yukimura behind him screaming.
"No! There is no point in it, it is too foolish to even consider! Listen to me!"
"I will do as I wish!" Atobe swung on his heels and turned his back to the stairs. He was so caught up in his argument with Yukimura that he hadn't even noticed the others. "I owe him more, but this is all I can give!"
"You cannot keep grasping on to what remains of your mortal life. Kabaji was no longer the manservant of the Earl of Atobe, but a human slave to a vampire. Face the realities of your current existence, Atobe, accept that the rules of the mortal world do not bind us! You cannot place his name on the tomb!" Yukimura was just as blind to everything but their argument as was Atobe, his jaw was tense and his eyes flaming. Sanada could tell these same arguments had been repeated over and over again. "Your relatives have not yet abandoned their search for you. Kabaji's disappearance did not go unnoticed and if word of his death reaches them, they will no doubt come in search of you. I will not allow it!"
"You think I would stop if you ordered? You think you could, or any power in this world could prevent me from doing as I wish?" Atobe grinned, turned his head to the side and finally noticed the others. His eyes just as cold as they had been when they parted found Sanada's. Atobe kept his gaze on him, searching; seeking for an answer Sanada could not give when he did not know the question. "With Kabaji's passing, there is no longer anything in this world that is mine, and you have nothing with which to control me with."
When Atobe's attention drifted from him, Yukimura also noticed Sanada."It is good you are back," he spoke with affection, but the sharpness that had filled his voice when he spoke with Atobe returned when he continued. "But you have returned alone, without your newborn fledgling that you saw precious enough to abandon me for."
"Would you have liked me to bring him to you?" Sanada asked and cast a brief glance at Atobe, who had stiffened at the mention of Fuji. "I did not think his presence would be welcomed here, and he likes his own company well enough."
"Not welcome?" Yukimura sounded astonished, his mouth and eyes were wide and round with pretend shock. "Why would he not be, when he is so well loved that not one, but two have abandoned their master in favour of his company."
"I am sorry Yukimura, but I could not leave him when his wounds were still fresh and raw, and I…" he paused. "The pain haunted me as much as it did him. Had I not cured him of it, it would have affected me."
"So his pain, your pain mattered more than mine?" Yukimura's voice rose in anger. "Do you think I did not suffer from your absence? I ached as if I had lost a limb!"
Atobe let out a sound disgust and turned his back on them. He walked towards the stairs, but when he saw that both Yanagi and Kirihara were still standing on them, he changed direction towards the doorway on his right. But instead of stepping through the doorway, he punched his fist through the wall.
"It sickens me you can speak such lies when facing me!" Atobe pulled his fist from the wall and traced his finger along the small cuts on his hand. As he watched, they healed and the furious expression on his face eased slowly, and his voice softened. "You were not suffering, but almost happy. Every time you told me of how miserable Fuji was, and how it tormented Sanada you were smiling, revelling in the anguish the knowledge of their suffering caused me."
"It is you who is lying," Yukimura was quick to turn the accusation against Atobe. "If their pain had been of any significance to you, you would not have abandoned them. Do not try to diminish my genuine longing for Sanada's presence by comparing it to your desire, when the only reason you want him, is because you know it would hurt me not to have him."
Atobe's head snapped up and he growled, fisting his hands, the cuts on his knuckles already healed. "I came back because I feared you would take something else from me if I wouldn't!"
"I wouldn't have minded you staying with them for a little longer," Yukimura responded with a milder, calm tone.
"And have the reminder of what I had lost before me at all times?" Atobe laughed bitterly. "No, I am sure you wouldn't have minded that. But I do not needlessly seek pain."
"No you do not seek it. You would do anything to avoid pain, you cannot bear it. But some things, even though painful are worth feeling. Not all good things are of pleasure alone." Yukimura walked to the other man and only stopped when Atobe stiffened uncomfortably at their closeness. He lifted his hand to let it hover next to Atobe's cheek, and did not remove it even when Atobe revealed his fangs in a growl. "Is that not the reason you have today, like all the other nights before, filled yourself with so much blood that the heat almost radiates of you. You think that drowning yourself in pleasure will erase the ache from your heart, the sorrow you feel because he is gone. But you do him injustice by refusing to feel his loss!"
"It is not because of my grief that I feed of them," Atobe turned his head to the side, farther away from the hand next to his face. His head tilted, he stared at Yukimura with narrowed eyes, looking down at the man that always managed to appear taller, despite the fact that there was not much difference in their heights. "At least, not anymore. I learned soon that no amount of blood would make the grief disappear."
"Then why do you still feed on so many each night?" Yukimura dropped his hand and stepped back so he was no longer staring up when looking at Atobe. "Do you think you can best me in strength by killing of the weakling fledglings of this town? Even if you sought out those that match me in strength and drained them of every single drop of blood, you would not gain enough power to challenge me."
"It is not the power that draws me to their blood." Atobe spoke with amusement, almost grinning. "That is only a side effect, though a favourable one."
"What other purpose could you possible have for wanting their blood, besides power? Why do you lie about something like this, when there is nothing to be gained by falsehood?" Yukimura sounded astonished, and more confused of the reason for the lie, than he was upset over Atobe hunting his own kind so relentlessly.
"It is not a lie," Atobe answered, his grin suddenly crueller. "It is you I am trying to flush out with their blood, not pain."
"Don't be ridiculous!" Yukimura snapped, sounding furious. "I will always be in your blood, nothing can change that! You can fill yourself with the blood of a thousand vampires and still it would be my blood in your veins!"
Atobe's mirth turned to anger, and his growl was filled with fury. "If that is the case, I will simply have to drain myself," he said, and turned his gaze to the person whose interest had risen at the mention of power. He walked around Yukimura and approached the stairs where Kirihara and Yanagi still stood. "Would you like to taste it, Kirihara? My blood." He lifted his arm and turned his palm so that his wrist was facing to Kirihara. "Do you want to know if it tastes sweeter than the blood of a human? Do you want to know how it feels to satisfy your hunger with immortal blood?"
Kirihara leaned against the banister, the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth, his gaze transfixed on the pale wrist. He placed both his palms against the banister and jumped over it, landing before Atobe, with one of his knees bent. "Only the wrist? Don't' you trust me?" he asked, grinning wickedly and Atobe laughed.
"Not really," he muttered, still smiling. He tilted his head, and pulled his collar back so his neck was left exposed.
It was all the invitation Kirihara needed, yet despite his normally impetuous nature, he rose up slowly and almost gently placed his hand behind Atobe's head and pulled his neck down against his mouth. He did not bite down at once, but pressed his tongue against the skin. "Still warm," he muttered; voice so low it was almost a purr. "But I can't smell the sweat, can't feel the heart, but I can smell the blood under the skin, I can feel it under my tongue." He shut his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, his other hand coiling around Atobe's waist, pulling the larger man closer to his embrace.
Kirihara did not speak anymore and pressed his lips against the pearly white flesh. He pulled his lips back from over his fangs and bit down, tearing the skin with a feverish desire, seeking the taste of blood and when finally encountering it, losing himself in it.
Affected by Kirihara's vicious and eager assault Atobe stumbled, threw his arms around the smaller frame attached to his neck and fell to his knees, pulling Kirihara with him. He groaned pushed the eager mouth draining him of blood tighter against him.
Sanada rushed to them, pressed his palm against the side of Atobe's face, meeting his eyes. "Stop this," he ordered.
With lips pressed tightly together and eyes narrowed, Atobe shook his head and held more tightly to Kirihara, holding him like a mother would a child.
"Yukimura!" Sanada turned to their master, pleading, but Yukimura had turned his face away and was looking at the ceiling, his fists held tightly to his sides.
Gritting his teeth Sanada stood over the kneeling pair and tried to understand the look of utter satisfaction in Atobe's eyes.
When Atobe's eyelids began to droop down, Sanada knew that if this continued any longer, Atobe's recovery would not be painless. If more was taken, he would suffer until he fed again and depending on how much Kirihara would drain it would take more than a single night for Atobe to regain his strength.
He placed his hand on top of Atobe's head to get his attention, ignored Kirihara's uttered groans of pleasure and said "Stop this now, it is enough. You've made your point."
Atobe bared his teeth and growled at Sanada. "This is not about making a-" he hissed and shut his eyes as a wave of exhaustion flushed over him. When his gaze found Sanada again, it was unfocused. "It is not enough."
"It will never be enough!" Sanada placed his hands between the two and pulled them apart. He flung Kirihara on his back but kept hold of Atobe by keeping his hands on the man's shoulders. "You could do this dozens of times and it would still not change your blood. Your body was transformed by Yukimura's blood it will always remain the same. It will only grow more potent with time, or by other powerful blood. Another's blood, no matter how powerful, cannot alter yours."
Growling, Atobe slapped Sanada's hands off and stood. "You're wrong," he glared down at the still kneeling Sanada. "It's already changed. It began changing when I took your blood in me, but I did not realize it until I took another vampire's life." Atobe smiled grimly. "I was still grieving over Kabaji when I encountered my first vampiric prey, and like a drunken fool I picked a fight with him. His blood spilled out at some point and watching it glisten there, against his unnaturally white, beautiful skin, I wanted to taste it."
"You've taken my blood before," Sanada said and rose up. "How was this time different from that?"
"Because I could kill him," Atobe spoke the words calmly, much less emotions in his tone than there had been when he'd described theevent. "With you, it's always been just a little bit, a drop here and there, and it was never…" he paused, and took his time speaking the rest. "Enough."
"You always were such a greedy child, Atobe, never wanting to share, always wanting it all for yourself." Yukimura sounded bitter and hurt. "But you should know I am just as greedy, and I do not like to share any more than you do."
"I know that," Atobe answered and turned from Sanada to Kirihara who had already risen to his feet. "And that is why I am leaving."
Atobe headed for the front door his footing not as steady or sure as it had been earlier. When he stepped out, Kirihara glanced briefly at Yukimura before rushing after him. After they had both left and only the three old ones remained, Yukimura spoke again, with less bitterness and something similar to hurt in his voice.
"But you're one of the things I want, Atobe Keigo, so I can't let you go." He folded his arms and locked them close to his chest, keeping his gaze from the others, speaking to them, as if he were speaking to himself. "He's always running from me, flinging my words into my face with contempt, returning my love with anger. My warnings are taken as demeaning insults, my assurances of affection as ridicule. Everything I do is twisted and turned upside down by the time it reaches him."
Desperate, is what Yukimura sounded and it had always been so with Atobe. Sanada considered the possibility that they truly were too similar. Both of them greedy and proud, so certain that in this world they stood above others. How could either of them ever accept the other as their master, and submit? Sanada could not see either kneeling before the other, let alone before someone else, yet he knew that between them there was no possibility of a relationship that was something other thanthat of a master and a servant.
"Sanada," Yukimura called out his name quietly.
"Yes, my master?" he answered, for a moment returning them both to past long ago, when they had still relied on formalities. It was no longer necessary to use such titles and formalities, when their meaning was engraved in each gesture and word that passed between them. But what had conspired here tonight and Yukimura's sorrow, radiating from every inch of his body, had made Sanada respond to his master in a way that reminded them both of the nature of their bond, and the passage of the years they'd spent together.
Yukimura smiled fondly, Sanada's attempt of reassurance not lost to him. "I am tired, exhausted. I do not know how long I can bear his refusal, his defiant hatred; the disgust I receive in return for the love I offer." He sighed, looking as tired as he claimed to be. "You will make him stay. He will be more inclined to listen if it is you who asks for it." He walked towards the stairs and when passing Sanada, brushed his fingers against his shoulder.
"I will do as you command," Sanada bowed his head and when Yukimura had reached the stairs, he spoke again. "He will never love you. You know that."
"Yes," Yukimura rested his hand on the banister. "But even though it is hate that blazes in his eyes when he looks at me, they are still the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen, and I do not want to go a single night without being warmed by their flames." He chuckled and lowered his chin. "To think that I believed he could be broken. I would not love him if he was any different, yet his obstinate refusal to yield pains me." Yukimura turned to Sanada and looked at him with suffering eyes. "His pride and arrogance make it impossible for him to let go of his hate and love me, yet it is because of those qualities that I love him so. If I can only ever receive his anger, then so be it, as long as I have him."
Sanada did not believe him. In Yukimura's eyes he saw a deep longing to be loved by the one person that had always, and always would refuse him.
"If it is what you wish, I will make it so." Sanada replied to his master.
0
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Atobe staggered down the stairs and along the street, hoping he would at least reach a quiet alley before he fell. Someone took hold of his arm and asked, "Are you alright, sir? Had a bit too much to drink?"
He turned and looked at the young man keeping him up. Not yet old enough to shave, bright eyed and innocent, judging by the concerned expression. But the knife pressing against Atobe's side told another story.
"Why don't you let me help you to a quiet spot where you can rest, eh sir?" The young man grinned when Atobe staggered again and blinked in a drunken way. He tightened his hold and almost dragged Atobe with him. "A nice gentleman like you should be more careful about the company he keeps."
They reached an alley, and the young man flung Atobe against the wall and started searching through his pockets, pressing the knife against his throat. Atobe closed his eyes and pressed his head against the wall, listening to the frantic beat of the young man's heart. He was exited; perhaps worried someone would come and see them. "You won't find much gold on me," Atobe whispered, noting with a tired chuckle that he even sounded drunk.
"What kind of a gentleman walks around with no gold?" the robber asked, irritated and Atobe laughed.
"The kind you should be worried about," Atobe answered, his arms circling the man who in his fright slid the knife across Atobe's neck, slashing across the skin. The blood poured out, making Atobe even weaker and hungrier. Feverishly, he sank his teeth in to the man's neck, the scent and taste of the blood filling him, turning his world crimson, returning some of the strength he had lost.
When the body in his arms stopped moving and the skin turned cold, he let go and leaned against the wall, touching the closing wound on his neck. "Not enough," he whispered as the blood he'd taken circled in his veins, slowly healing the damage caused by the knife and Kirihara's eagerness.
When someone stepped on the alley, Atobe slowly opened his eyes and turned his head. "Come here," he whispered, voice ragged. He extended his arm and cautiously Kirihara crept closer. He took the hand Atobe offered and did not pull back when Atobe pulled the wrist to his mouth and bit down, taking back some of the blood he had given.
When he no longer felt so weak that a gush of wind might knock him down, Atobe released Kirihara's wrist and pushed back from the wall. He wiped his mouth clean with the sleeve of his coat and looked down at the body of the young thief. He kneeled and picked up the man's knife. The blood on the blade looked almost black in the darkness, and its scent was almost intoxicatingly sweet amongst the stench of garbage and waste littering the alley.
"You really are full of it," Kirihara sneered. "Trying to flush out Yukimura, what a load of crap."
"It's not completely untrue" Atobe answered, his voice still unsteady from the earlier weakness. "As much as I do enjoy the rush of power I gain from drinking a vampire's blood, the thought of submitting to Yukimura by asking for some of his, sickens me to the very core."
"But you don't really believe you can erase him from your blood."
"No, I think that's impossible" Atobe answered. "But to have him believe that, even for a second is enough. To see him suffer, is a pleasure almost as great as the one gained from blood." Atobe gripped the knife tighter and slit the robber's throat open. Hopefully the two puncture wounds would be ignored when there was a far more reasonable cause of death in the large, gaping wound.
Kirihara scoffed and stood up. "Are you coming back?" he asked.
"No, I'm going to the graveyard to visit Kabaji."
"He's right you know. Putting his name on the tomb will just gain your relatives' attention."
"And that is precisely why I intend to leave England." Atobe stood, and dropped the knife on the alley's cobble stones.
"He's not going to let you."
"He can't stop me," Atobe spat. "I meant what I said. There is no longer anything I care for that he can use to make me stay. Kabaji's passing marks the end."
Kirihara opened his mouth to argue, but Atobe put up his hand to keep him silent. Fuming, Kirihara glared at Atobe but kept his mouth shut. Finally satisfied that Kirihara would say no more Atobe nodded and turned. When he'd turned a corner, Kirihara scoffed and muttered "Some fucking farewell that was."
He looked down at the body, and grinned. "Tsk. Nobles. Can't do anything right." He squatted down and started going through the corpses pockets. "How does he expect anyone to believe this was a robbery, if he doesn't take anything?" He found a heavy purse and did not even look inside, just weighed it on his palm before pocketing it. A longer search gave him a gold watch and a slim dagger with a leather bound handle.
Finally he stood up and was about to leave, when the coat the man was wearing caught his attention. It was long, black and fairly new. "Needed a new one, anyway" he noted, and stripped the body of the coat and threw it over his shoulders.
0
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What greeted Atobe in the graveyard was silence, the deep calm of the dead that lay in the blessed ground. Their souls were already at rest, only their bodies still in the mortal world, rotting, becoming a part of the earth. It was something Atobe could admit envying, this deep rest, the sure knowledge every human that believed in God had in their death, that when they passed from this world, in the next they would be in God's kingdom.
He still longed for that, the strength gained from faith. In his life he had not been a good Christian. Murder was a heavy sin, and the murder of your brother even greater. The fact that he had never repented his sins had made him wonder more than once, that perhaps his soul would have been damned even without Yukimura to poison it with his monster's blood.
But the devotion to God he had held onto, even during these years that he had lived as the monster he was, was slowly fading. Little by little he found himself taking on the attitude portrayed by Yukimura, that there was no God, and there was no power in this or the next world that they were accountable for. It frightened him, that vast freedom expressed in that single, heretic thought. If there was no God, then there was no Hell, no judge to condemn them. If that was true, than what kept him from indulging in the most heinous of sins? No guide but his own morals, and Atobe had long since realized they were very flimsy, freely bending themselves to fit whatever it was he desired at the moment.
As long as Kabaji had still been with him, Atobe could pretend to still possess some humanity, some sense of morals that kept him from acting on his cruellest impulses. Kabaji was what had kept him bound to the little cloister he and the other vampires formed. Their charming little pretend family, a pack of blood thirsty vicious animals trapped together, clenching their teeth, itching to tear each other to shreds. With Kabaji there Atobe could pretend with the others that it was a normal existence, their forced bond. With a human in the house, they had all, unconsciously or consciously strived to act civilized instead of like the wild beasts they were. Keeping Kabaji safe had been more important to him than succumbing to a monster's primal instincts.
Yukimura was delusional to think it could continue. It was a miracle that it had endured for so many years. And perhaps it would still endure, if Yukimura would accept the inevitable, that Atobe would not be a part of it. But he would not, Atobe knew.
A cruel smile etched its way onto his lips and Atobe allowed it to remain there. Knowing his appearance was that of a monster, he haunted the graveyard like a demon in search of lost souls, and finally chanced upon the grave that bore the name of his devoted servant.
There was only a name, the date of birth and death inscribed on the tombstone. There were no flowers on it, no sign of a grieving relative or a friend having visited the place. The dirt covering it was still fresh, and Atobe could see the marks left on the ground by the gravediggers' boots and shovel.
Atobe bent on one knee and buried his fingers in the moist soil, bent his head and tried to think of the man buried here. But a presence on the far end of the graveyard stole his thoughts away from his loyal servant, and brought in mind all the delicious pleasures still awaiting him in this world, that to him was a world of blood, rather than flesh.
"One has to wonder," Atobe said, pulling his hand from the dirt and wiping his fingers on his thigh. "If there is a reason beyond the desire that makes us seek their company," he said, voicing his thoughts from earlier. A part of him was curious if Sanada would have an answer for him, or if he was just as confused as he was to as why he had been so fond of both Fuji and Kabaji.
He looked up to be faced with a befuddled stare, and smiled bitterly. "The living," Atobe elaborated and stood up. "If there is something more to it than just the blood."
"If anyone had an answer to that it would be you." Sanada's answer only served to aggravate Atobe, and he turned away with a frown on his face, his gaze once again locked on Kabaji's tombstone. "You are the only one that appreciates mortality, even Fuji-"
"Don't speak of him!" Atobe interrupted, hot anger flashing through him the moment he heard the name. "No point in…" he shook his head, trying to rid himself of the anger he still felt at Fuji. He missed the boy that had spent the silent, peaceful nights with him, and felt betrayed, furious that Fuji had abandoned him, had gone against him. "He made his choice," Atobe whispered and turned to look at Sanada's dark eyes. "Now I want to hear yours."
Sanada was shaking his head even before Atobe finished. "You know I cannot-"
"You have to," Atobe's hand struck out and grasped at Sanada's hair. He pulled Sanada's face down, brushed his fingers against his lips and breathed cold air against Sanada's parted lips. "I've given you all the time I can spare. I won't wait any longer." He stared into Sanada's eyes, unable to give up hope despite knowing now that Sanada would not break free from Yukimura.
Finally he released the other man and walked away from the grave, towards the church. "Why did you return?" he asked. "You could have stayed with Fuji, been the master for once. You could have waited for me. I would have come."
"Why did you stay?" Sanada asked instead of answering. "You are so insistent in your claims of leaving, in your hatred for Yukimura, yet you stayed." There was doubt and suspicion in Sanada's voice, and it made Atobe laugh.
"I stayed…" Atobe pressed the back of his hand against his forehead, a hysterical laughter, much harder and violent than the one he had let out earlier struggling to get out. It twisted his face into something more fitting in a face of a madman, yet it refused to be wiped from his face. "For Kabaji, perhaps. Knowing that I could do nothing if Yukimura decided to take him from me."
He turned to look at Sanada, and when he saw the look in the man's face, he could no longer keep the laugh bottled inside him. "You hoped I stayed for you," he said, a crooked smile stretching his lips.
"Yes," Sanada replied, with no trace of shame or embarrassment.
"I would have," Atobe whispered and moved closer, pressed his lips against Sanada's jaw, and spoke so his cold breath caressed the skin under his lips. "I would have waited for you had you asked, promised me, that you would return for me. If you had only asked, I would have stayed for you."
The words that sounded so sweet, spoken softly against his skin, could only be lies, but lies he wanted to believe, and yearned to hear. "And if I had called you?" Sanada asked, letting himself fall deeper into the web of lies, into a world they could build from empty promises and wows, of declarations that would never be fulfilled.
"Had you only whispered my name into the winds," Atobe breathed against the shell of his ear, nearly pressing his still warm lips against Sanada's cold skin. And when Sanada strained to hear the rest, Atobe moved, backed away from him with his eyes alight with the same pale fire Sanada always found so enthralling.
"Spend the day with me," Atobe invited, gesturing behind him towards the church. "Rest the day with your arms around me, my body pressed against yours, my blood filling your veins and tomorrow," Atobe glanced away, his eyes rising up to look at the sky that would soon be alighted by the rising sun. "We shall think of tomorrow when it comes, but not before."
"But Y-" he got no further, because Atobe's fingers were pressed against his lips, the touch of his still warm skin so enticing on his lips, the fingers only inches from his fangs. How easy it would be to move his head just a little, to slide Atobe's fingers into his mouth, to bite down and have the glory that was Atobe fill him, flood through him, let it take away everything else, have nothing but the blood, but Atobe matter.
Atobe slid his hand so it was cradling Sanada's face, lifted his chin and pressed his open mouth against Sanada's throat. His tongue was near burning, still filled with warm, living blood that circled through out his whole body. "Think not of him, not of anyone but us for tonight," Atobe whispered softly, fingers dancing against his neck and shoulders, pulling demandingly on the strands of his hair. "We deserve one night, one day for ourselves. It has been long, so long Sanada since I have tasted you, since I have had you running through my veins, your strength possessing me."
The desire rose within him and Sanada was unable to protest when Atobe pulled him towards the church, guided him through the graves and along the narrow paths till they reached a secluded, almost unnoticeable wooden door in an alcove at the back of the church.
Atobe pushed the door open and behind it Sanada saw stairs leading down to the catacombs of the church where the wealthy and influential had still been buried not so long ago. Had Atobe lived and died as a mortal, perhaps he too would have had his final resting place under the stones of the church he sought refuse on the night he was turned into this glorious creature that now lead Sanada down towards the darkness that held the scent of dust and stale water.
At the bottom of the steps Atobe turned, released his hold on Sanada's hand and backed himself against the stones. He held out his hand once more and when Sanada did not immediately take it, he grasped the back of his head and pulled Sanada to him in a furious kiss, purposely cutting his tongue on Sanada's fangs, allowing his blood to pool into his mouth, drawing the others tongue and lips to hungrily take all that could be taken from that small cut.
Sanada's fingers coiled around Atobe's arms, pressing with enough force to bruise skin and break bones had his been a mortal body. Yet it still hurt, but Atobe refused to recoil or show any signs of pain. He embraced the pain, welcomed it as a sign of finally having won, holding Sanada under his thrall, his power.
Atobe pulled back, sought Sanada's gaze and smiled, nearly laughed at the dazed look in them. Who would have thought it would only take a few drops of his blood for Sanada to forget his master and to surrender to him?
"We will do this again," Atobe spoke. "I will share myself with you tomorrow, every day and you," his smile widened and he knew he looked just as dazed as Sanada but did not care. This was everything he had wanted and more. Sanada was his, there was no longer a way for that to be undone. "You shall do the same for me. Forever, every day, always. Stay with me, Sanada?"
"Yes," Sanada answered, the taste of blood still heavy and sweet in his mouth, Atobe's power rolling in him, burning in its wake all rational thought, destroying all paths that tied to Yukimura. Like its master, Atobe's power, his blood was jealous of any other influence besides its own and at the moment Sanada would have happily given all Atobe asked of him, no matter the price or consequence. "With you, forever, for eternity."
Sanada raised his hand to cup Atobe's face and felt warm when Atobe pressed a kiss on his palm and whispered, "And no one else."
"None but us," Sanada confirmed. "I will not share you, I cannot, not now that I have tasted you."
Atobe licked his lip slowly, his smile widening with each word Sanada spoke and when he was finished Atobe laughed with wild abandon, joyously, as if he had received the most precious gift in the world and Sanada knew then that it was not his words that had made Atobe so gloriously happy.
Tearing his eyes away from Atobe Sanada looked up to the top of the stairs, not truly surprised to find Yukimura there, framed by the pale blue sky that would soon turn red and gold with the rising sun.
"You… you would leave me?" Yukimura whispered brokenly and his tone was enough to incite another bout of laughter from Atobe. "You would leave me!" Yukimura yelled and took a shaky step backwards; further away form the shadows of the crypt that protected both Sanada and Atobe form the coming light of day.
"Yukimura!" Sanada yelled, intending to follow but Atobe held his arm and pulled him back.
"No Sanada! The sun!" he screamed and pulled Sanada deeper into the darkness.
"Yukimura!" Sanada yelled once more and when the searing pain flashed through his mind he clutched on to Atobe, held him as he listened to the screams of his master as the sun's rays burned away his flesh and turned his bones to dust.
The morning had finally come and with it the blissful oblivion of darkness where he needed not listen to the pained screams of his dying master and to know that the fault was his.