DISCLAIMER: None of the characters except for the villain and extra personalities belongs to me.
WARNING: This fanfic includes: Saitou x Sanosuke pairing;a vampire character; random silliness and unedited words.
PART 4: Echoes of Our Past
Saitou was awakened by the insistent cramp in his left arm, which was placed awkwardly beneath something lean and heavy. Groaning, he opened his eyes. That something turned out to be someone, in the form of Sanosuke Sagara. The kid was nestled on his chest, his spiky hair mere centimeters away from Saitou's chin.
He thought he had grown accustomed to this, as this seemed to be his roosterhead's favorite sleeping position. Apparently, he wasn't, and neither was his arm.
Gently, he tried to move himself, removing his numb arm as slowly as he could muster. But Sano grumbled sleepily and buried his face deeper on Saitou's neck, the kid's nose touching his collarbone. Soon the snuggling stopped, and he was momentarily left powerless against the warm sensations the unconscious movements evoked.
He stroked his roosterhead's spiky tresses lightly, smiling at the thought of Sano finding solace in his arms, like a little bird seeking shelter under a thick tree in the midst of a raging storm. He remembered last night's incident, understanding Sano's need for comfort, wondering what sort of trick the kid's mind had played. The image of his roosterhead thrashing in pain and shaking in fright made him tighten his hold on Sano's sleeping form. He doesn't want to see the kid in that way again.
Sano shifted in slumber, murmuring something unintelligible, indicating semi-consciousness. He felt another stab of pain in his trapped arm. As much as he wanted to keep holding the kid, his arm couldn't stand the torture any longer.
And without further ado, he yanked the numb arm with a force that didn't only wake up Sano, but tumbled the young man away from their futon as well. The kid scowled at him with sleepy eyes that vowed vengeance for the uncalled act.
"You'll pay for that," the kid warned with a snarl, before pouncing on his still sprawled form.
He, being a more experienced fighter, easily deflected the attack and expertly pinned the half-awake teenager beneath him, his golden gaze brimming with amusement. Sano struggled with all his might, but soon acknowledged defeat and just stared back at Saitou, brown orbs reflecting equal amusement at what just happened.
Then, before he could stop himself, he leaned his head down and nibbled at Sano's soft, sweet mouth. The kid eagerly returned the caress, and they spent some moments locked in a heated kiss that could probably wake up the dead itself.
"You know," he said between kisses, "if you wanted this, you can just say the word. You didn't need to have a nightmare to get my attention."
"Hmn…," Sano murmured, stroking his cheek lightly, "did I scare you, old man?"
The image of a nightmare-stricken Sano flashed briefly yet vividly again in his mind, making him break off from the kiss, and stare intently at his roosterhead.
"Just what exactly did you dream about that scared you so much?" he asked casually, though he really wanted to know what Sano had kept from him last night.
It took a while before the kid could reply, as if the dream was too harsh to remember again. "Nothing really…I just dreamed that I was dying."
Saitou said nothing, sensing the other's need for silent acceptance.
"I was dying with this boy who looked exactly like me…only he was kinda ancient in style," Sano continued. "I guess it scared the shit out of me, you know? I mean, I've never died in my dreams before."
The young man closed his eyes, as if trying with all his might to erase the last vestiges of the dream. He felt the little shudders the kid's body made, and he tightened his hold. Assuring his roosterhead without words that he will never let that dream happen in reality.
Then he chuckled softly, easing the tension out of the moment, although his eyes still held the same anxious look. "Ahou," he said simply.
The kid's eyes swiftly re-opened at that remark. "What did you just say?"
The change in Sano was so amusing; he had to fight down the laughter crawling up his throat. A while ago, he was a scared, vulnerable kid, the next he was back in his stubborn, gangster mode. It was inappropriate, he knew, but he had to say something to completely put the blasted dream behind them. Now, as he watched his roosterhead frightened brown eyes shift to a mean, incredulous gleam, he knew he had done the right thing.
"Ahou," he repeated. "That's what you get for eating too much soba."
"Why you prick!"
Saitou's laughter finally escaped his lips, echoing inside their house.
After making sure that Saitou was gone, Sano did what he wanted to do the moment he woke up (besides kissing Hajime of course) ----- proceed with his plans.
Quickly, he moved to the corner of the room where the bedcovers were kept, extracting a small tin can under the folds of a wool blanket. With great pride, he poured the contents on the floor.
"Yes!" he exclaimed triumphantly after counting all the coins. "A few coins more, and I'm all set."
He smiled happily, already picturing he look of amazement on Saitou's face when the man's birthday comes. Hajime would never expect his plans, he was sure of it. The mantis man probably thought he had completely forgotten it, which will make his surprise all the funnier.
He shook himself from his premonitions and gathered the money back in the can, hiding it again beneath the thick blanket. He couldn't risk carrying his saved money around, afraid he might get mugged or lose it ion gambling. Or worse, it might get wiped by his pending tab at the Akebeko.
No, the money would be safer here. Even the snooping cop won't suspect a thing.
"Well, well," he said to himself. "What must I do today?"
He chewed his bottom lip as he thought of what he had accomplished so far. He'd already arranged the fabulous dinner they would share on the big night. He'd collaborated with Chou, Hajime's broomheaded assistant, to make sure that Saitou would be free on the evening of his birthday. He even had the table setting already planned to achieve the desired effect.
So what had he forgotten to do?
The answer came to him a few seconds later. Smacking his forehead lightly, he stood up put on his jacket and headed for the door. Then he put on his black shoes and went outside, all set out to finish what he must do.
After all, he only had three days left.
The hunger was becoming unbearable.
It clawed at him, begging for release, refusing to let him be. Clamoring for attention…and blood.
Still, he kept on walking, distracting himself from the screaming in his veins. He had to get away. Away from that town that loathed him. The town whose people burn in hatred at the mere mention of his name.
He could still hear their furious shouts as they surrounded his abode, all bent on driving him away. He was a monster, they said, so he should be killed. Slaughtered like he did those poor townsfolk he'd mercilessly slain for survival. He could still see their faces contorted in anger, blazing torches and wooden beams gripped firmly in their hands.
He knew then, that his existence will forever be cursed with these situations. He also knew, despite his supernatural strength, that he didn't stand a chance.
And so he had escaped, three days ago, through the forest, scrambling for safety amidst the foliage of trees surrounding him. He had no idea where he was, but he could see the faint outline of a small town not far ahead.
He sighed in relief, assuring himself that it he could feed soon, and rid his body of all its pain and torment. All he had to do was to keep on walking and he could grab the first wandering human that crosses his path.
But in his haste and pensiveness, he didn't see the protruding rock on the dusty road, and found himself sprawled facedown on the hard earth. Exhaustion swept over him, and he wasn't able to move even a muscle to support himself. His body just refused to cooperate anymore, no matter how hard he tried.
Maybe he was destined to die here, alone and friendless. Perhaps he wasn't meant to taste the warmth of the town's people just a few more steps away. Sighing in surrender, he closed his eyes. If it was his end, he would accept it wholeheartedly.
So ends the famous vampire Alkira, he thought tiredly, anticipating his death with each passing second. Whoever would have predicted that a fierce killer like him would be snuffed out in starvation?
He could hear a distant pounding echoing in his mind. He paid no attention to it, resolute in facing his death head-on without regret.
Suddenly, he heard someone say, as if from a great distance, "Sir, are you alright?"
Strong hand gently lifted him, propping him up rather awkwardly. Strong, warm hands.
Dazed, he saw the face of a young man of about seventeen years, looking at him worriedly. Beautiful brown orbs peered at him in concern, framed by a thick mane of spiky hair that reflected its hue.
"Sir?" the boy asked again. "Are you ill? You're all cold and pale."
He shook his head slightly, still mesmerized by the sight, hunger temporarily forgotten.
"No, I'm fine. I just tripped," he replied softly. "Thank you for your concern." Inwardly he thought, Who is this human?
The boy didn't seem to be convinced, but he let go of Alkira anyway. Bowing politely, he said, "You are most welcome."
"The inn is at the heart of town, where I believe you're destination lies. Pleasant evening, sir."
But he was barely listening at the young man's words. Instead, his eyes were fixated on the smooth neck a few inches from his reach. He could hear the boy's calm, steady heartbeat, and that alone awakened his hunger and almost made his fangs retract in anticipation of young, fresh blood.
It has been so long…he was so hungry…
Dizzying waves of hunger emanated from within him, and he clenched his hands, keeping his instincts at bay. Willing his body to overcome the rush of pain, if only for a moment longer.
Why he was controlling himself, he could not fathom, but his senses told him to do it. There was something quite different in the human standing in front of him. The boy was attractive for his age, he would admit, but it was nothing new. He had toyed and slain hundreds of beautiful people before, as he had a thing for beauty. He couldn't understand why this boy seems special somehow.
"How did you know where I was heading?" he blurted out, keen on knowing the strange youth. "Can you read minds, boy?"
He was rewarded with a chuckle, soft and musical. It filled him with an aura of life's innocence. He smiled in ironically. Didn't the boy realize that he was conversing with a creature of death? What a naïve and trusting soul!
"No sir, it was just that you seemed new in town. I don't recall ever seeing you before. Forgive my generalization."
The youth seemed to take note of the late hour and mumbled apologetically that he had to go. He was gone before the vampire could even reply.
Standing there in the middle of the deserted road, Alkira felt strangely home.
"Is it lunchtime already?" Chou whined from his desk, one hand massaging his abdomen. His other hand was twiddling absent-mindedly at the page corners of his thick paperwork.
Saitou let out another puff of cigarette smoke before replying, "Almost."
Chou growled in frustration at his boss' non-committed answer before burying his face somewhere between the piles of paper scattered on his table. Then he started whistling out an old tune, apparently content in dawdling in his work until after lunch time.
Saitou ignored him, still poring over the coroner's report her had before him and the alarming information it held. The youth they have discovered dumped in an alley just the other night was definitely, without a doubt, killed in one of the most horrific ways there is in the world. He was drained of blood to the core.
And by whom, he clearly intends to find out.
"Hey boss," his assistant suddenly asked, breaking off from his annoying whistling. "How's that murder coming?"
"Worse than I thought." Saitou doesn't intend to involve Chou in this "personal" case. He had enough distractions already.
"That's too bad. You know what I think?"
"Unless I recently developed the gift of reading minds, no," he replied sarcastically, knowing how Chou could skip around the bushes. "Would you like to get to the point and stop wasting my time?"
Chou ignored the sarcasm but took his advice. "I think a vampire did it."
Saitou stared at him blankly.
"No, I'm serious," his assistant said with conviction. "It's the only logical answer."
"Vampires don't exist," Saitou said simply, clearly rejecting the other's belief. Then, as if to prove his point, Saitou went on about his work, as if nothing had just transpired between the two officers.
His assistant could only shake his head. "Oh well, I tried. I mean, with all the talk about the legend and all ---"
"What legend?" Saitou interrupted, eyebrows rising inquisitively.
Chou was genuinely surprised at this sudden interest but continued on. "You know, the Legend of Alkira. It's written accounts have been selling like hotcakes ever since some wacko started spreading that it was him who murdered that guy in the alley."
"You mean this Alkira murdered the dumped kid?" he asked incredulously, but wanting to hear more, he continued his query. "And I suppose that this Alkira is a vampire?"
His broomheaded assistant nodded in satisfaction. "Yup, which leads me back to my theory."
"A theory that originated from, as you said so yourself, 'a wacko' and believed by the gullible half of our population?" he smartly countered, still unconvinced.
"Ah, but you haven't heard the entire story. The legend says that this guy's sole purpose is –"
But just what the vampire's agenda was supposed to be, Saitou didn't get to find out because of the sudden entrance of at least ten impeccably-dressed monks inside the station. Chou suddenly straightened himself and hastily arranged his cluttered desk, not wanting to appear indolent.
"Yes?" Saitou asked the group, beckoning them to enter his office. He knew that the officers tasked to occupy the front desk hadn't come back yet from their break.
The apparent leader of the group nodded and spoke up. " We are here to file a missing person report."
Saitou nodded in acceptance and immediately produced the necessary forms for the monks to fill up. "Just who are you looking for?" he asked.
"Our Grand Master," the monk leader replied worriedly, while filling up the forms. "He took his usual walk in the woods last night and never returned. We are extremely worried of his safety, especially with the last murder in town."
Saitou nodded in silent empathy, just to appease the anxious monk. "We'll search a team to investigate immediately. We'll contact you the moment we have information about his whereabouts."
The monks bowed solemnly in gratitude after giving back the papers, then slowly filed out of the police station.
He continued on with his previous activity, smirking inwardly at the strangled look that Chou's face now wore. His assistant hasn't spoken a word during the whole monk conversation.
"You know what to do," he said simply, relishing the sarcasm in his tongue.
Chou groaned and buried his face again in his desk. "Another case for me to handle," he replied, echoing his boss' tone. "Just what I need."
And his stomach growled again, louder and fiercer.