Sine-Noir
I Pale Light
"Did you kill him?" Her voice might not have been so cold at some point in time, but right now every syllable was a dangerously sharp icicle, cutting and freezing Shinomori Aoshi's heart. He had never seen his mistress' lovely face in ten decades, but he knew it would be still the same as ever- fair, queenly, pure… but completely emotionless.
He loved her. He had loved her since he had set eyes on her, and she knew that. If she had been her old self, she would have rejected him straightaway, or reciprocated his devotion, but this stranger did nothing of the sort. She would torment him, planting the treacherous seed of false hope in his heart, and then ripping it out with a delighted cruelty time and time again. He knew very well that she was just using him for her own conquests, but he was willing to let her use him until the day his foul vampire life was snuffed out by a stake through his heart.
"I am asking you a question, Aoshi. Did you kill Battousai?"
A silence.
"Answer me." Her voice was gentler, but from past experiences it was a pretext.
More silence. Then Aoshi opened his mouth to emit a soft, "No."
He watched as the woman turned slowly around, using her gloved thumb and forefinger to extinguish the two solitary candles that illuminated the otherwise pitch-dark room. In the inky darkness, the only thing Aoshi could make out were the twin embers of red fire which were his mistress' eyes, hidden, as with the rest of her face, behind the silky fabric of her black veil, but glowing ominously through it. In two swift strides she closed the distance between them, standing over his kneeling figure. He winced as her sharp fingernails dug into his chin through her glove, lifting his face, her other hand covering his ice blue eyes, which widened in surprise as her lips touched his, separated only by her veil. She suddenly tugged the silk away, allowing him to come into real contact with her for the first time in ten decades.
"I am hungry, Aoshi," she whispered into his mouth.
"Drink to your heart's content," Aoshi murmured back. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the sharp pain as her fang dug into the inner part of his bottom lip, causing his blood to surge out of the fresh wound.
"You'll have to pay for your mistakes," she whispered again.
"I'd willingly give you my life."
It seemed like an eternity that they remained in that position, the wound in his lip getting larger and larger as his mistress sucked harder, revelling in the taste of his blood, which, to her, seemed to taste unusually sweet.
She finally broke off as Aoshi lost consciousness, slumping limply onto the slick, cold marble of the floor. The woman gave him a vicious kick in the side.
"I want more than your life, fool," she spat, before replacing her veil and sweeping off, her cloak billowing behind her.
...
Sagara Souzou's facial expression was hidden by the shadows as he stood next to the bed, looking down at the unconscious redhead lying there, swathed in bandages and deathly pale. His deep brown eyes roved slowly over the younger man's frail body, taking in the multiple scars that remained on his exposed skin, the blood-soaked bandages, the flaming red hair that some said was the colour of blood, and last of all, the brutal cross-scar that marred his face forever.
It was quite obvious to Souzou that when their clan leader Hiko Seijuro returned in the morning, he, the division leader, was going to get into very deep trouble. Himura Kenshin was one of the best fighters they had, and without him the entire group might have died during the skirmish with the White Rose clan two hours ago. Souzou himself now had a rather ugly-looking gash up his arm as a souvenir, and he shuddered to think about what had happened to some of his more unfortunate counterparts. They would all heal, eventually, but the more badly wounded one was, the more one had to feed. And feeding in large numbers would arouse suspicion.
He sighed. He had always been a strategist, albeit a rather careless one, from the time he had been alive to even now, a hundred years after his Embracement. His Embracement. His Embracement had marked the beginning of his painful, angst-filled existence. Every time he closed his eyes the memory of that night would replay morbidly in his head, like some kind of cruel movie.
It might have been some kind of intuitive hunch, but Sagara Souzou was quite sure that he was being followed. Whoever that person might was, he or she must have had godlike speed and mastery of stealth, for it was increasingly difficult for the young man to pick up sounds of movement. Quickening his pace, Souzou hastily pushed down all feelings of panic that seemed to be bubbling forth from the pit of his stomach.
It was going to be okay. Nothing was going to happen. It was just himself. He was alone. There was no one there. It was just Sagara Souzou, the paranoid guy who freaked his girlfriend out every Saturday when they went out together. It was just himself. Silly old-
A scream raced up his throat as a cold, long-fingered hand dug its nails into the back of his head and slammed his forehead against a wall, but not a sound fell from his lips; fear had blocked his voice. He was paralysed by fear, and even though his mind was screaming with mounting hysteria, his body had gone limp and did nothing to stop Souzou's assailant from dragging him into a deserted alleyway, once again pushing him against a wall, but this time turning him around to face the person he recognised to be a vampire. Its chalk-white face was youthful, but Souzou could see the weathered age present in its countenance as it curved its pale lips upwards in a malicious smile.
"No… no… don't do that… stop… help…" his attempts to plead with his attacker came out as helpless whimpers, which only served to tantalize the vampire, as he realized when its cold eyes turned a fiery red. Clamping one hand over Souzou's shoulder with a vicelike grip, the vampire raised its other hand to rip away the collar of his white, hand-knitted turtleneck that his girlfriend had given to him as a Christmas present, exposing his bare neck.
As quick as lightning, the vampire had punctured his artery with its razor-sharp fangs, and began to drink hungrily, much to Souzou's utmost horror. The pain in his neck escalated with every measured suck, causing tears of pain and anguish to run down Souzou's cheeks. He was going to die. He was going to die on that very night, at the young and tender age of thirty.
"I don't… don't want to… die…"
"Get out of my sight now, White Rose scum! This is the territory of the Blood Tears clan. All prey is ours." The voice was a feral growl. Authoritative.
Souzou felt the fangs unlatch themselves from his neck, and he sank to his knees, what little blood he had left trickling out of his twin wounds.
"I don't listen to bastards like you. I do what I like, and there's nothing you can do to stop me, the vampire spat. "I take orders from her Supreme Ladyshi-"
The vampire never finished its proclamation; a sword had been run through its heart before its sentence had been completed. It disintegrated into a grisly mess almost immediately.
Souzou's vision was getting fuzzier and fuzzier as every second slipped by. Darkness was creeping into the corners of his eyes. He gasped in pain as his rescuer tilted his chin upwards, causing his wound to tear slightly and sending a jolt of acute pain through his head.
"Do you want to live, or do you want to end it all?" the voice was not the snarl he had heard just moments ago; it was gentler now.
"Please… let me live…" the words escaped his lips before he could even think, and just a split second after he had said them, his rescuer had jammed his elbow into Souzou's mouth, blood from a freshly opened wound trickling into the dying man's mouth, causing him to choke on its bitter, putrid taste. But as more of the potent substance went down his throat, Souzou found himself craving more, and against his will, he found himself sucking hungrily, his entire body relaxing completely as he was engulfed in an overwhelming bliss. But yet he couldn't let go; he couldn't stop drinking; the craving was just too strong. Finally, his rescuer slammed the back of his head against the wall for the third time that night, and he blacked out.
Absently, Souzou fingered the two scars on his neck that that vampire had left a hundred years ago as he shook off the memory. They were well hidden most of the time by his wardrobe of turtlenecks and woollen scarves, but that white one that his girlfriend had handknitted for him as a Christmas present had never been worn again by him; he had kept it away, wrapped in brown paper, placing it into a drawer that was always locked. It was as if by doing that, the horrible memories of his girlfriend rejecting him and screaming horrible things at him because he had become a vampire would be locked away as well, allowing him to begin his new life unhindered by his past.
On retrospect, what his new master Hiko Seijuro had given him a hundred years ago was not life, but just a state of animation despite being dead. He was still dead, but dead in a different sense. Even so, he owed whatever he had at present to Hiko, and nothing would shift his loyalty.
"Sagara-san?"
He was jerked from his reverie at the sound of Kenshin's voice. "Himura!" he exclaimed softly. "You're awake."
Kenshin smiled wanly. "I am sorry, Sagara-san, for what happened earlier. The smell of blood clouded my judgement, and I attacked without thinking. I have made Sensei angry with you for something you could not prevent again."
Souzou shook his head. "It was my fault. I misjudged Shinomori Aoshi. I underestimated his skill."
"Everyone was at fault, Sagara-san. You should stop blaming yourself all the time."
"It's my job," Souzou said, laughing, but there was no humour in his laughter.
They remained silent, Kenshin sipping on a glass of warm water that Souzou had poured for him, Souzou watching Kenshin with the expression of a tired but dedicated guard dog. Finally, Kenshin broke the silence.
"How is Soujiro?" he asked.
"Sou? He's fine. Lost a lot of blood, but after a few meals he was all right again."
Kenshin nodded slowly. "Sanosuke?"
Souzou himself had Embraced Sanosuke fifty years ago- ten years after Kenshin had been Embraced by Hiko- by the youth's own choice. Sanosuke held Souzou with so much respect that it was almost fanatical.
"Sanosuke was completely healed after a few meals."
"Yahiko?"
Yahiko, though having the appearance of a ten-year-old boy, had been Embraced around one year after Kenshin, and was as good a fighter as anyone of them in the division.
"Yahiko had the tricky problem of three silver bullets embedded in his left shoulder, but they got it out in no time, and he's on the swift road to recovery."
"So… that means I have-" Kenshin started, but was cut of by a loud, awe-inspiring voice.
"You have the worst injuries in the entire division, baka deshi."
Author's NoteOkay… So how was this chapter? I know most of the nice people who reviewed think that the prologue was too short, but it was the prologue. This chapter, for your information, is 1950 words long. Hah. Congratulate me. Now. ^-^ Just joking. Thank you, everyone, for all your support. I promise I will do my utmost to keep writing.
I personally haven't figured out why Souzou was suddenly included into the story, and with such depth and detail. I guess he always struck me as a rather sorrowful character, so in this story, I grabbed the chance to play on that sorrowful thing.
Now that I've beta read this chapter (yup, I've given up on the concept of a beta-reader other than yourself), I do find that it is taking a rather violent turn… In fact, during the process of writing the second part of the chapter (the Souzou part), I found myself almost writing shounen-ai. I am freaking out. Again. But don't worry; this story is definitely not shounen-ai.
Till the next chapter,
Sine
Lucrecia LeVrai: Thanks for your encouraging review; you don't know how much I missed writing RK stories and having you review it, along with some other people. I really miss The Memory of Trees, but I'm sad to say that I am quite unable to continue with the story… yet. I'm trying to focus all of my attention on this story, so that I can smoothly finish it. After this, who knows? Maybe I'll revise some chapters and start writing again. Thanks for all your support though. And yeah, I hope White Rose Stained by Tears of Blood doesn't become too clichéd that even I can't stand it. I'm trying to skirt some aspects of the typical vampire story though.