1: shadowed

"We're going to the nearest hospital. Tanaka." He commandeered, grunting when his pelvis protested and cracked under the pressure when he pulled to his feet. Vincent kept his hands pinned on Kagome's forearms, his red fingers trembling.

Fisting the bottom of Vincent's plain shirt, she stared at Tanaka. As her knees were rubbed raw by the stone, her eyes narrowed and burned the butler. "You're not Tanaka." she remarked in a raspy tone, accusingly.

Vincent's eyes shot wide in terror, and guilt shimmered in his heart. He sputtered, "I—" his voice trailed off, his lips tightening in self-loathing as he heard the old man's low snicker. How dare he defend himself in front of her?

Of course she would know. Kagome knew what a longtime family friend truly was, from the first moment she laid her eyes on him. The friend's green eyes sparkled with ill amusement and grinned like a madman, at her quiet accusation—why is a Reaper here? were the exact words she used. He validated her talents then, congratulating the shocked lord for finding such a beautiful weapon.

(He never did answer her question.)

And a beautiful weapon she truly was. Kagome possessed an innate ability to detect presences for miles around, no matter the obstacle or threat. She never failed to find her targets, no matter how carefully they hid from her, and put them down like the pests they were. This ability was what made her into a proficient hunter and his obedient guard dog. His precious dear girl.

Vincent released a quivering breath and curled his hands around Kagome's boney elbows. "I—I'll explain," a thunderclap rang out in the distance, and the rain pelted down like a hail of knives. As his hair slicked to his scalp, Vincent pulled, "but first, we should get out from the rain, dear." Her red warmth ran down his palms as his fingers dug into her delicate flesh.

Kagome glued her glare on Tanaka's still-smiling doppelgänger, but she complied with Vincent's demands. She followed her lord down the steps on wobbly feet. Kagome did not miss Vincent's unevenness, nor was she deaf to his strained grunts. She paused.

She looked at him in despair when he settled back down in the wheelchair, too plain to match her lord's aristocratic character, "M—milord…" her teeth were bared and her eyes shone with unshed tears and indescribable guilt.

Clinging to the railing and her feet feeling too heavy to lift, she stared at her lord's broken condition. She remained still and silent, with faint trembles in her knees and fingers. Kagome did not hear her name from Vincent's lips, her eyes shook with grief.

Vincent muttered, almost snarling, "Kagome." Not from anger, but out of concern. She did not say anything and just stood there, speechless, at his shattered state. Rain drowned out the sound of her name on his tongue. He didn't think twice, not when he had this pressing need to hold this precious girl in his arms.

His fingers encircled her arms in an unbreakable ring.

She blinked awake from her guilt, but she was given no time to answer her lord's call.

Vincent jerked on her hand with a quick snap of his wrist, causing Kagome to shamble toward him. "You can hardly walk," he murmured, his grasp on her wrist like a shackle.

With a yip, she fell into his arms and landed on his lap. Kagome stiffened at hearing the tiny groan that passed through his chest. Before she could so much as part her lips, Vincent hissed, "Don't." She clicked her mouth shut. Through the storm, Kagome heard him snap for her to stay put, but couldn't make out most of his words.

Her head was starting to spin.

Vincent smothered her in his arms, leaving her no room to object. Without tearing his gaze from Kagome's marred face, he barked, "Tanaka, get us out from the rain. We need to get her help."

"Yes," the old man's voice did not match the one she remembered. It was just a bit too deep, too husky—too youthful to match the old butler, "milord." It was wrong.

Kagome struggled in Vincent's armlock and shook off her fixation on the imposter, "I can walk." She grimaced at the tingles in her body. Pain. She overdid it, with darkness ringing her eyes. Kagome came to the manor expecting to die. Why would she care about her physical state?

Her lord's survival was the last thing she expected.

"You're in hellish shape, dear girl," Vincent pulled her tiny body—it was too skinny, bony in all the wrong places. He folded her legs under his chest so they wouldn't dangle over the armrest. While Kagome was as light as a feather, lighter than he remembered her ever being, his pelvis ached. It throbbed with such intensity that he saw some white in his eyes.

Shutting his eyes, he ignored the pain. As the rain continued to fall, his ears became colder, and water crept down his brow, teasing his eyes to open. With a grimace, Vincent swiped the rain off his face and gazed down. He frowned.

In his lap, Kagome's body nestled in his arms. Looking sad and pathetic, like him. And, she hardly looked any better off than he did. Her black hair had flattened to her head and cheeks, giving her the appearance of a drowned cat. She squirmed in slight discomfort from ice-cold drops viciously pummeling on her face. From what, wasn't clear to him, but Vincent had an instinctive need to protect her.

He didn't hesitate. Vincent hunkered and shielded Kagome from the rain as much as he could by bowing over her slender form. It was a fruitless attempt, both drenched to the bones, but a valiant one.

Raindrops dripped from his hair and Vincent was never more grateful for the storm that it hid his tears.

At the sudden jerk and turn, the wheels sinking into the mud, Kagome said nothing. Exhaustion settling inside her bones, she buried her face under Vincent's chin and hid herself from the world. She sobbed quietly and shed the last of her tears, her voice disappearing under the rumbling peal of thunder.

His faint cologne comforted her shattered mind.

Raising the umbrella with one gloved hand, Tanaka pushed the wheelchair with his other. There was wickedness in his whiskered lips, as he eyed the ebony crown of his master's coveted doll. The old butler herded the lord and his pretty doll to the awaiting carriage, leaving behind twin trails and deep footprints in his wake.

The storm quietened then.

Stay awake.

Please.

I can't lose you!

When she woke up, she stared at the ceiling. Nothing remarkable about it, it was plain, yet she was fixated on the color. It was dark, her eyes feeling strange and disconnected from one other, but it was not pitch black. The moonlight bathed the room with its gentle light, persuading the darkness to remain in its many corners in the room. A stream of consciousness and memories burned through her mind.

Did she die?

The eye-burning stench of freak cleanliness told her no. She didn't die. Was it all a nightmare?

Was he a dream?

Twitching, she could hardly move an inch. Every pound of her weight seemed like lead, chaining her to reality. Kagome shifted, but her wrist was gripped by something. It held her like a shackle.

It was warm, but there was a desperation in its strength. She tugged on her hand again. It refused to budge.

"…?"

Kagome blinked, her head creaked away from the ceiling, the pillow doing little to ease the discomfort in her neck. On her wrist was a hand—a very large hand, thin and yet well masculine, familiar. "M-milord?" She recoiled at the discordant in her voice, so frail and worn. With a shake of her head, Kagome followed her eyes up the clenching hand, a broad shoulder, to the black halo of her master.

He was sleeping awkwardly from his hard chair, resting his head on her sterile bed. His other arm was used as his pillow, although it was obvious he was uncomfortable. She grimaced, curling her trapped hand over to wrap her fingers on his thick wrist.

"Milord," she tugged gently, but there was little strength left she could muster. "Milord." Kagome tried again.

Vincent twitched, but he was still deep in his troubled sleep. Chewing on the insides of her cheeks, Kagome weighted her decisions in a considerable silence. If she watches her lord slumbering, he might wake with backaches. If she wakes him instead, her lord might give her a lecture of the lifetime for foolishly trekking back to the burned manor in her terrible state.

But, she missed him.

Air burned her nose and Kagome closed her eyes. She missed all of them so, so terribly.

If her lord survived, could there be any other?

Hope hurts. It consumed her like the inferno devoured all she ever loved from her arms. It shouldn't hurt this bad. So terribly, terribly bad it tore her up from the inside. It was as if she had swallowed a thousand needles while praying for a miracle.

With a rattling breath, Kagome shuffled and twisted her aching body over to lie on her side. With her free hand, she reached over. Wait, she stayed her intention. Did she even have a right to touch her lord? She was so close her fingertipsbrushed through Vincent's tangled strands.

Her selfishness, her desire to see him, had shattered her uncertainties. Kagome slid a hand through his frazzled hair and slid it down to the side of his worn face with a sweeping motion. A minute twitch and Vincent's dark eyes peeled open.

He looked at Kagome. In complete disbelief, he straightened from his uncomfortable position. Leaning closer, Vincent blinked once. Twice. Thrice, as if he couldn't believe she ever woke up. His lips quivered, parting as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find words to speak.

Instead, he seated himself on her mattress without a second's hesitation. Ringing his fingers on her shoulders, Kagome could feel his fingers shaking, buzzing with a mix of anxiety and relief. Not thinking twice, her lord dragged her to his chest and crossed his arms in a desperate embrace. "You," Vincent sucked in a long breath and pressed a kiss on the top of her scalp, "are a right fool, my dear." He shuddered, minding her covered injuries, and held Kagome's head to his face.

Kagome murmured some nonsense, before she trailed off in quiet. This nearness was worth whatever lecture she would get. It was not easy to gather her fingers, but she was eager to return a semblance of physical affection. Kagome huddled closer for his warmth, hooking her hands on the front of Vincent's simple garb.

"Value your life more," Vincent trembled and shuddered, "just a little more." He did not want to think about how much she bled on him. That his beautiful weapon was still but a breathing human. Fragile and mortal.

By the time they arrived at the hospital, he was soaked in her blood, which was trickling down from his feet. As soon as the doctors and nurses laid their eyes on her body, they whisked Kagome away from his arms. For a moment, he thought he was holding her ghost, her warmth lingering on his skin. Vincent begged for her to live.

In the carriage, Kagome couldn't keep her eyes open. She was already so cold from the rain in his arms—and she was ice. She had lost too much blood. Foolish girl, so blind with her loyalty. Despite his pleads, his commands, Kagome could not follow his demands.

She had lost far too much.

It took everything he had not to budge in the surgery room and beg Kagome to stay alive. He never believed in God. He had lost his faith many years before, but for the first time in decades, Vincent prayed. He even prayed to the Devil.

She was the only one he had left.

Tanaka chuckled and obeyed his wishes, doing as he was told. Once his master was safely relocated and was scrubbed clean from the massive bloodstains, he disappeared without another word. Vincent continued to pray.

He clenched his hands and held them together for hours. Vincent lost all feeling in his body, remained in the same position, but he didn't care. He was unconcerned about the apprehensive nurses and doctors who entered his room without explicit permission. Only an elderly nurse was wise enough not to ask and left him a tray of a decent-looking meal.

"You must've truly loved this person so very dearly to pray this long," she said with a sad amused chuckle. "May God's blessings be upon you." The elderly lady discreetly closed the door and walked away.

Vincent scratched angry red markings on the backs of his hands with his nails. "...I do, I do love that foolish girl," he said, his lips thinning, with a grim chuckle in his voice at the thought of God.

The so-called All-Knowing Father stole his wife and children and left their dear girl battered and near dead. His wife and boys were innocent, yet they suffered death for their husband and father's sins. He was not a god that Vincent would want to worship.

He knew he would live with fury in his heart for the rest of his remaining life. All-consuming anger. What good is God if He takes and takes and takes and gives nothing in return?

Yet, Vincent prayed anyway. Perhaps the Death will take pity on him and cross Kagome's name from their never-ending list. They are both kind and cruel in that way. Death is fair.

Death is both merciful and merciless.

He prayed, as his untouched meal went cold and soggy. He was not hungry. All bodily sensations were dulled, and all he could think about was his reckless girl. He continued to pray.

It had taken 5 hours. It had been the most excruciating 5 hours (*1) when Tanaka returned with that skewed smile of his. He was dressed in a doctor's apron and leathery gloves, yet the butler appeared completely untouched by blood, "Milord," he announced, undressing himself from his pretend role.

"How," Vincent shot up as soon as the old butler walked his room, his words breathless, "is she?" His feet were unsteady, and numbness danced like needles across his skin.

The butler folded the apron, beating that awful laugh Vincent hated so much, "Missus will recover. It is a," he mused, "miracle that she will not suffer any permanent damage. She will have to live with notable facial scars and on an estimated 30% of her body. All things considered," a tut sounded from the old man's whiskered lips, "the missus is incredibly fortunate."

Vincent collapsed and silently thanked all but the God Himself.

When the nurses wheeled Kagome in and lined her veins with transparent tubes and linked her up with dripping fluids, he demanded to stay with her. They left them in peace, hurriedly departing to respect their privacy. Being a privileged noble had many advantages. His private room was hers, she was safe and would be watched over by some of the best doctors in the Royal hospital.

She was lifeless, her skin pallid and covered in so much gauze that she resembled a mummy. Vincent didn't like staring at her much, not in this imperfect state, but she might've faded away if he so much looked away for more than a moment. Like a dog, he kept watch.

Once, Kagome mentioned she liked his voice. It was a stray memory, but it stood out from the rest. Inspired by the thought, he summoned the butler for specific books. He read her several of her favorite novels, hoping she would follow his voice from wherever the lonely space her mind vanished to, to escape from the cruel reality. Vincent read so much that his eyes hurt, the printed ink blending together in a big black glob on the textured pages, and his voice grew rough. He gave up reading books and instead opted to share short stories he had from his childhood until he could no longer talk. Nostalgia was a nice change of pace and Vincent hoped Kagome would remember some of them.

He was well aware that he might've looked like a madman conversing with a half-corpse.

Vincent held one of her hands in a deathlike grip the entire time he stayed with her, his fear of losing her unpalatable. It took three full days.

On the third night, he fell asleep clutching her lifeless hand. He nodded off when his exhaustion became overwhelming. Vincent dreamt of happy memories. Happiness didn't last, with the nightmares steeping in and poisoned his dream. They were all blaming him. Itsyourfaultitsyourfaultitsallyourfault!

Yet the tiny hand he kept in his palm, kept him grounded from the ever-hungry darkness.

It wasn't cold, and it wasn't slicked with dripping blood. In his palm, he felt heartbeats. That was what curbed the demons in his head at bay. Then, there was a slight movement. Fingers caressed his face, dancing across his oily hair. He opened his eyes and met those curious pairs of stormy grey.

He almost thought she wouldn't awake. That she would never wake up again. But, she did.

His heart could not be any more elated, bursting at the seams with joy at hearing her very voice again.

"Never do that to yourself again." Vincent nearly snarled before he released a defeated sigh, "I'm sorry."

Kagome struggled to lie to reach out and he almost told her to stay put when she succeeded in caressing his face. "What's for?" Her voice was so hoarse, so weak, that it was startling.

His dear songbird had a lovely voice, strong yet lilt. Delicate yet with an undeniable strength behind her careful words. Vincent and Rachel did not name her their songbird without reason. Kagome would sing to their sons to sleep, both in their language and in her native tongue—and would sing to entertain them too.

Although she would get flustered at the idea of singing in front of an audience, she would do so without hesitation if that was their—his desires. Vincent felt strange about sharing her voice now and felt stranger still at how weak and different Kagome sounded. Forced and worn out, with no more strength remaining. Papery and tattered as she looked.

"I'm a pathetic master, dear," Vincent murmured, his hand absently stroking down her back. It was ridged with thickly wrapped gauzes and barely healed scars. "I should've taken a better care of our security mea—"

Kagome clammed a wrapped hand on his lips and shut him up, "That's enough—you did nothing wrong. You did not set fire to your home. You were not the one who burnt your family. And," she departed and stole her eyes away from his, refusing to meet his gaze, "you were not the one who left those wounds on me. What use is there in blaming ourselves?"

She curled in, or as much as she could with her body creaking, and said, "We could go for an eternity cursing ourselves for our incompetency, but it's a useless thing. We could strive to be better." Vincent inhaled to laugh, recognizing those words, as she continued, "You were the one who gave me that advice, milord."

"That I did," he palmed his face, quaking with laughter he wouldn't let loose, "clever dear you are." A weary sigh followed. Vincent couldn't help making himself comfortable on the small bed.

Silence reigned supreme. There were undertones of voices outside this room; the hospital was often lively with gossip and complaints. Through these walls, they were no louder than a mouse's squeak. For Vincent, it was not silent.

He could hear Kagome's breathing. He could hear her heartbeat. Hearing it all is a precious treasure.

A blessing, to know his dear songbird is still alive.

He wasn't alone, he had her now. Knowing this brought him some peace, but it would not welt the rage he felt. Pure utter rage, for the destruction the faceless interlopers brought to his family. Vincent will find them, and he will gladly skin and torture each one alive until they beg for death.

Death would be too kind for the likes of them.

"Milord," Kagome's voice brought him out from his dark fantasies. She still faced his chest, again not meeting his gaze, and toyed and picked on her fingernails. She was quiet for a moment, contemplating what to say.

Vincent always had been a patient man, though he never saw himself as a saint. No saint would gleefully hunt down foul men on command. For her though, he waited and did not press. Raking his fingertips down on her back in soothing circles, he gave her time to collect her thoughts.

She inhaled and released it in a leveled exhale. Quitting the ugly habit of picking her fingers raw, Kagome angled her head, "What happened?"

He didn't want to provide that answer. "What happened what, dear?" Vincent murmured as he stroked her rough cheek, stalling. He knew what the question was, but he did not want to face her scorn.

"What happened to you?" There was a delayed flinch in her expression, and she recoiled. Fluttering her eyes shut in shame for ever questioning her lord, Kagome placed her head on Vincent's bicep, "You can dismiss that question, forgive me."

Vincent said, draping his arm around her delicate frame and pulling her closer so she could hear his heartbeat, "you have the right to know. The truth is," he clenched his jaws, hating the residual bleach odor in the room. "I don't know," Vincent breathed through his mouth, his nose offended. "I was a lucky bastard and killed all but one of them after you were apprehended. He was a scrawny fellow with plain features, unmemorable but I would not forget."

He gnashed and grounded his jaws, recalling vivid memories of that terrible day, "The coward fled, and I pursued the bastard through the fire. Maddened with desires and needs for vengeance, I made a foolish mistake…" Vincent said, wetting his lips and pinned Kagome's head to under his chin, "I should've escaped, but that would be jumping from the fire into the frying pan, wouldn't it?"

It was a crude joke, flipping the old saying around, but neither of them laughed.

"If I jumped out from the window, I would've made myself a target." Kagome petted his chest, murmuring but saying nothing that mattered to Vincent, "A fallen lumber cut me off from reaching the fucker." He could not forget the sensation of brittle heavy wood burning his shoes, his lips pinched in a wince. "Under the fire, It was blazing and rotting."

Vincent rubbed his hand, before forming it into a half-fist and aimed it at the plain wall, "I distinctly remembered taking aims at the," a bitter tone drenched his voice, and the lord lowered his hand, "gentleman, but I don't believe my bullets even reached. I couldn't see."

"I couldn't breathe." He wheezed, palming his throat, and his tongue remembered that awful taste of smoke, "It was all red, burning Hell." Vincent coughed, trying to clear the lingering violent touch of the fire from his lungs, "My lungs were scorching, and I could feel the fire burning and scraping my skin," he stroked his hands down his arms, nails snagging the fabric of his shirt.

"Milord…" Kagome drew back and snatched his arm, "did you—?" Scratching her fingers, she dimly realized the coarseness under the fabric.

Vincent dragged one of his sleeves up, revealing a thick gauze wrap halfway down his forearm.

Ugly pink craters peered through, cracking his once flawless skin. "Yes dear, I've been burned. I was lucky that I didn't get the worst of it—if one could consider me being a crippled old man fortunate."

She gasped at his reveal, "Milord—!" That was why he struggled to take a single step and scuffled at his feet before.

"Shush," Vincent silenced Kagome with a single thumb over her lips, returning the favor he had received from her earlier, "I'll live. Now, allow me to conclude my tale of woes." His humor purposefully dry, he released his dear girl's mouth and resumed, "All I could hear were the roars from the flame." He could still hear the snarling inferno in his ears, "I had nowhere to run. I remembered screaming, filled with rage, and," Vincent squeezed Kagome tighter and shuddered, "despair. I lost my dearest, my boys—and I lost you as well.

"I had nothing more to live for. My family was my anchor, the beacon of light and joy in the darkness I dwell in." His breaths grew short and Vincent could feel the darkness of the night clawed at his damaged skin, "What was I to do? Chasing vengeance is futile if I have nothing left to protect." He laughed wetly.

"My wealth means little to me if I cannot enjoy and share it with my wife." Vincent murmured the name of his beloved. Kagome's lips pressed together in pain and sorrow at hearing it. That name of her cherished lady.

"My empire meant nothing, without my sons to pass it down to." Kagome flinched at hearing the boys' names in her lord's quiet breath.

"I have no home without," Kagome gulped to moisten the dryness in her throat at Vincent's declaration, "you, to guard it fiercely, so passionately. My boys adored you. My wife loved you."

She wondered if her cheeks could burn further at the confession. Kagome was not blind to the family's affection, but she never knew the depth of it. She never understood why.

Before she could ponder the thought further, Vincent shuddered a dark chuckle and palmed his face. He held it and sighed into his palm, "I don't know what you are to me. You're a tad too old to be my daughter," he knew Kagome never saw him as her father. She never did. To her, he was her savior. An angel who spirited her away from her intended fate as a pretty caged bird, a pet bird, and gave her everything.

He might as well be her God.

Vincent continued, "and I am not sure whether I can consider you a dear friend either—You're more than a friend, you're my precious family." Yes, that was what it was. Kagome was more than a mere dog, more than a servant; she was someone he could trust and confide his ugliest secrets in. The instant she stepped foot inside the Phantomhive's grounds, she became a member of his family.

"I was terrified at the thought of losing you too." Vincent slumped over the solemn Kagome and kept her forehead close to his lips. "I thought of every one of my dearests," he felt the body in his arms tensing at the parade of names from his mouth, "and for a second, I considered surrendering my life to the fire."

Fury enriched his words, and he unconsciously tightened his grips on Kagome, "I heard laughter. Jeering, over the deaths of my family. I know not where, but I could hear them mocking my family's name." Kagome could hear Vincent grinding his teeth, "Rage consumed me. I was never a God-fearing man, but I condemned God right then." A hollow laugh escaped his lips, as Vincent recounted how many times he condemned the heaven, "I reviled His name, begging for answers I would never receive. For denouncing His name, the fire lashed out at me."

"I remembered little afterward." Vincent shuddered and sighed, "Something collapsed from above and fell on me. Was I being crushed?" He shrugged at his own question and circled his shoulders in turn, his back tightening from the fading sensation of being burned alive.

In contrast to his cool expression, his hands were trembling and vibrating on Kagome's back, "I don't know. I only recall the fire going black and a dark creature was materializing from the smoke. I don't remember what it looked like, my vision was foggy, but I could hear its voice—it had such an ugly voice that it was difficult to forget from my nightmares to this day." Vincent's expression wretched and his ears rang, "It offered me a deal.

"Power for my soul. Servitude until my death. I would be impenetrable." Vincent shuddered as his Adams' apple bobbed with swelling guilts, "Forgive me, my dear girl." Gingerly, he tugged on the collar of his unpatterned shirt and undid several buttons down to his chest, "I've done a terrible thing—"

Kagome smothered his mouth again. Trying to pay the purple glow on her face no mind, she shook her head, "You're alive. That is all that matters to me. You're alive, and I could not be any more grateful." Gliding her hand down his sternum, she cupped over the Faustian contract to hide it from her sight, "If this is your decision out of your own free will, then it is not my place to question you." Kagome deftly buttoned the shirt. She did not want to stare at it.

She did not want to dwell on why her lord withheld some of his truth from her. There were words he would not let slip from his lips and she knew it. Why, she did not know, but she had to trust that he had good reasons.

"Sweet girl," Vincent staggered forward, as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders, "bless you."

She knotted the fabric of his shirt in her hands and closed her eyes, "…I'm tired."

"And hungry." Her lord rebuked her. Raking his fingers through Kagome's hair, Vincent shook his head, "You haven't had a proper meal in days—maybe weeks."

Where had she been?

"I want to stay here," she buried her head in his cursed chest. Her hands balled into fists, Kagome clung to her lord and begged for his affection, "just for a little while."

Vincent didn't fight her, "It is still quite late, we can sleep for a few more hours."

"…I miss them." Her voice cracked under the veil of darkness.

"So," he released a shaky breath, "do I."

1* I didn't verify with a certain med student friend of mine (hi samm ily pls don't bite me if im wrong) and I will correct if I'm incorrect, but my research said this is the average amount of time it took for blood transfusion + repairing any other purposefully unknown damages Kagome got. Keep in mind that this is in the Victorian era (albeit with more technological and medical advancements if we're following the (early) Kuro canons), so it may be longer (or shorter). I kept Kagome's damages purposefully vague because I'm not in the medical field.

a/n: the beginning arc will be slow-paced, covering how they were struggling with their losses, moving forward together, and all that. It should start to pick up in few more chapters, aha. Expect more dialogues in the meantime.

As always, thank you for reading and please leave a review!

Edited as of Oct 12 2021 using quillbot and basic grammarly! Iunno if these apps improved the reading any so lmk your thoughts!