Before reading please skip to the A/N below. Thank you!
Hired Guns
Chapter 4
In an isolated, neutral territory off the coast of Japan was a privately owned oil platform. Eight years ago, the oil company had a shift in ownership once a certain influential family had bought the rights to it. Fast forward to the present and it ran like it always used to. As if there had never been a change at all. It was standard fare. A huge, floating metal island with the bottom fixated to the ocean floor for the purpose of drilling the earth's most sought after resources. If it were to be described with the words of a ten-year-old: it looked like a big, complicated Lego assembly in the middle of the sea.
There was nothing unique about it. It was really just a simple oilrig complete with the towering giraffe-like crane used for moving containers and etcetera. All the necessary papers, certificates, licenses, and other approvals were filed neatly. The platform was inspected by the Japanese government 7 days a week to ensure that all safety standards were met. All in all, to put more emphasis on its total nondescript nature, the government never seemed to place significant attention to it, because for them it was just a simple, plain, honest-to-god oilrig.
It all went according to plan.
Right next to the drill, at the deepest trenches of the ocean, was the Shuzen Group Pharmaceuticals highly classified Genetics Division "B". Covered with adaptive, reflective panels that moved like it had a life of its own, the state-of-the-art facility was hidden away from the prying hands of the world governments. The facility had a staff of more than three hundred personnel. Their purpose was shady at best, but their intentions were noble. They must've been the 'ends justify the means' type of people.
It was rather self-explanatory at that point. How can you not be shady if you're working deep in the ocean and having very transparent intentions to keep your work a secret?
In the main laboratory, Moka Akashiya stood alone on the observation deck. Her very presence was like a blinding light in pitch black darkness. She radiated elegance, a natural aura befitting of a queen like herself. Her graceful, commanding aura could be wholly felt within the large laboratory and it only pressured the staff to work their asses off even more.
"You've already been part of my life for so long…"
She lightly slammed her fist on the huge observation window. It was directed at the titanic monstrosity lying dormant in a large dome-like prison that was made from the hardest, materials known to earth. Its main purpose was to separate the ocean's water from the couple metric tons of blessed holy water that the creature was submerged in like a demonic pickle.
Alucard, the first Shinso, was carefully guarded under a coalition of Ayashi states while they searched for a solution to their immortal problem. The sea water only managed to immobilize the beast, but it wasn't enough to completely end the terror and dread that followed it. Alive and pulsating with deep hatred, it was only a matter of time before the titanium shackles that bound it to the earth would break.
"I'm getting sick and tired of you. Give us something. Anything. How the hell do we kill you?" her voice had a tinge of desperation and morbid curiosity. From the day she was born, a link had been formed with the sleeping abomination- a link that she wanted to break free from. There were times that she cursed ever being brought into this world, but she also took it as a sign that she was meant to be death's emissary for the titan.
If there was one thing she was sure of, if she failed to destroy Alucard, the next generation of Shuzen vampires will finish the job. Such was the fate of those whose blood they shared.
A woman in white approached the pensive vampire. She had tan skin and long, blonde hair. It looked liked her hair had been recently re-bonded for it fell down on her shoulders silkily and bounced along with every confident step that she took. The white gown with the thigh-high slit was something straight out of a fairy tale. And her exotic features wouldn't look out of place in one either.
"Moka…"
"Kahlua" the silver-haired vampire further acknowledged the presence of her older sister with a nod.
"What are her chances for recovery, sister?"
"It's still too early to say. We're still running some tests on her." Kahlua replied with almost no trace of emotion in her voice.
Akasha Bloodriver, the previous queen of the vampires, floated weightlessly in a stasis tank filled with red plasma while being suspended with thin tubes injected across her body. Her long, Rapunzel-like hair danced around in the fluid and the red glow emanating from the tank coupled with the dimly lit surrounding made her look more like an otherworldly angel.
As a result of being one with Alucard for years, she had basically become an extension of the beast. Monstrous tendrils sprouted out of her body. She had extra lets of grotesque limbs coming out from places that were never meant for them. Deformed red eyes lined her misshapen forearms and legs. She was an oxymoronic creature, an abomination like the beast she was pulled out from, yet a bizarre beauty with the way her delicate features contrasted the fleshy, timorous growths that adorned her body.
The state of her mother left Moka disheartened. The prospect of recovery seemed moot at that point. Akasha had already been absorbed by Alucard for so long, that it was nigh impossible to distinguish their individual biological and genetic traits.
Moka could only look on wistfully as fleeting moments of her stolen childhood flashed before her eyes. She never had a decent role model on how to be the upstanding woman she turned out in the end. It was all on her. It would be a lie to say that no one guided her growing up, but that guidance completely fell short. She remembered the days when she was in the very corner of a classroom, isolated and taunted, with no memory of who she was and desperately longing for a reason on why the gods above left her alone without the warm embrace that only a mother could give.
Even as a grown woman, Moka felt like the little, lonely girl every time she saw her mother in that stasis tank. It felt odd and embarrassing that such a strong woman like herself felt loneliness even when she was surrounded by her sisters and millions of supporters.
She was close with her half-sisters. She grew up with them, played with them, but there was always something that still made her feel singled out and different. It could've been from Gyokuro's treatment or the complete sisterly bond that Kahlua and Kokoa shared. Akuha, though a helpful and warm addition to her life, was overly attached and off-putting.
But Akasha was different. What they had between them was a special bond that would never break. The pink haired vampire was the only one who showed her the sacrifice and love that only a mother would give to her children. Even in the moment of absolute despair as the literal jaws of death threatened to swallow her whole, Akasha, with her unwavering devotion, took her place.
Moka gently planted her palm on the glass with nothing but fragile hope to keep her going.
"Ma'am?" a voice, light in pitch, wrenched her out of her reflective state. It was a frail and lanky looking man who was in dire need of protein- the type of guy who never even held a girl's hand or the type of guy where the only source of praise came from his mother. He approached her meekly, shakily even. Moka could tell that it took the man every ounce of his will to approach her without having to piss himself.
She wondered how a guy like him ended up in one of the most top-secret areas on earth. The man handed her a white folder, gave a curt bow and left without saying a word. She eyed the white piece of stiff paper with slight hesitation even though she was the one who personally requested the file.
The contents of the first page of the three paged file read:
Name: Tsukune Aono
Age: 24
Blood Type: AB+
Rank: Gunnery Sergeant
-Yokai Defense Force – 3rd Battalion - Charlie Company "2F-Vipers"
-Yokai Defense Force – 3rd Battalion - Sierra Company "REAPER-1"
Status: MIA
Pasted on the upper right of the file was a 2x2 photo of Tsukune in his military suit. In the file, it detailed the numerous commendations he received and his acts of valor during the Ayashi Civil War. Among said decorations included pistol and rifle marksmanship awards, close quarter combat awards and meritorious awards amongst other personal decorations. The YDF was closely modeled after an amalgamation of their human counterparts, so the awards bore many similarities.
She leafed through the pages and landed on the assorted photos of him on the field. He was dirty and wounded, but he stood dignified-yet-detached in the harsh war-torn land piled with the deceased bodies of his fellow soldiers.
Moka was ashamed that she couldn't even plea busyness as an excuse for not finding out more of his current status. The guilt of what she had done to him only held her back. And frankly, she wouldn't know what to do if she ever got the chance to see him face to face.
"Kahlua. What's the status on A-56?"
"Still unstable. We need more time and test subjects."
A-56, along with guarding Alucard, was the main reason why Genetics Division "B" was highly concealed from the public. Personally funded by Moka herself, the team handling A-56 was part of the darker, more morally disreputable aspects of the pharmaceutical group.
"I'll give you all that you need. But how long is this going to take?" Moka's tone grew slightly impatient.
"Three years maybe more."
"We don't have three years." Moka couldn't believe the words she heard. After all the funding and allocation of resources to this damned sector, they really needed more time?
Kahlua felt a vein pop in her forehead. They already had this argument dozens of times, but none of her explanations seemed to break through Moka's thick wall of ignorance. She had been patient with her little sister's demands but a little more nudging would be enough to send the blonde vampire raging.
"Have you forgotten about A-38?! Do you really want another repeat of the 'St. Luke's Incident'?"
After witnessing such horrors with her own eyes, Moka had become numb to the ugliness that the world had to offer. But the mere mention of the 'St. Lukes Massacre' was enough to twist her haughty expression into regret.
Moka's shocked and offended visage was a clear 'No'.
"I guess not. If you want your conscience to be clear of any doubt, let me do my job. I don't even see the point of all this. How do you even know if he's still alive?"
The incident was light compared to the things she had to go through. But it was undoubtedly her first foray into the realm of illegal science. And it scarred her deeply as much as the survivors of the incident. Tsukune's involvement only gave her more reasons for self-condemnation.
Rather than scrapping A-56 and dooming her ex-lover to his fate, Moka saw their unlikely connection as the only thing that kept the whole project moving forward. Through their "Blood Link" she had numerous bouts of depression and rage, sometimes even a combination of both. But it was a sign that he was still alive and it was all that she needed.
She didn't know if she did out of love, guilt or a sense of indebtedness as the lines separating them got blurred, but she was determined to see it through.
"He's alive… it might sound strange but I could feel him. He's out there somewhere and we need to find him before his time runs out."
Roppongi, Tokyo - 5:56 AM
A Special Assault Team vehicle sped along the dead quiet streets of Tokyo's Roppongi District. The squad of ten men sat face to face in complete total silence as they got closer to their destination. They were all dressed for battle, rifles in between their legs, barrels pointing up and ready for war.
Mizore loosened the tight collar of her black tactical suit. A drop of sweat rolled down her temple from the heat and her well-hidden fear. She hoped for a smooth and eventless mission, but it seemed unlikely. She took one last weapon check for her suppressed M4 Carbine fitted with a red dot sight. She pressed the magazine release, checked for loaded rounds and slapped the magazine back in. The Snow Woman racked the bolt of the weapon and set it back down.
She looked at the rest of her squad mates who all had the same expressions as her. She lowered her head, lips moving as if reciting something. They were getting close now. The van's speed reduced, she gripped her gun and steeled herself. This was it.
Two doors swung open and they all leaped from the vehicle. They went inside the lobby of the three-floor office building, advancing swiftly like black-clad avengers. The squad split into two groups, one for the sublevels and the other for the upper levels. Team A reached a staircase that led to the second floor and went up. They didn't expect much when they went through those double doors. Maybe opposition and small arms fire, things that they were already used to.
But it looks like somebody got there first.
"What the fuck happened here?" Mizore mumbled.
Six or seven bodies of men lay slumped and sprawled over the walls and the floor. The lack of bullet casings within their vicinity meant that somebody finished them off before they even got off a round and judging from their condition, the method of elimination seemed quick and clean- no unnecessary cruelty, it even looked professional.
A surly, forty-something old man called "Sarge" tapped his comm to radio Team B. He was the eldest of the squad and was coincidentally the one who commanded the most respect. "Team leader, status?" He had a deep, gravelly voice most likely from the three pack o' Marlboro's a day.
We're entering sublevel 'A'. Nothing new yet, Sarge."
"Roger. Keep me posted. Out." With that, they resumed radio silence.
Team A reached the third floor. There they found even more bloody corpses littering the tight narrow corridor. There were at least twenty-two men on the ground and their stiff, rigor mortised bodies left very little room for the squad to step on. They navigated through the terrain of death with care in their steps as if they would step on a landmine.
"Sarge, we got eyes up here." Mizore notified her commander after spotting one of the cameras. The CCTV's were small and barely visible, blending well with the ceiling. If it weren't for the blinking red light, the cameras might've gone completely unnoticed.
"Let's hope it captured all the action." The team continued while the other two at the back cleared each room that they passed. Some of the doors were left half-open, and another one was completely blown off its hinges. There were knives and swords gleaming crimson in the dark. The kills were messier this time and lacked the focus and precision compared to the ones they saw at the second level.
Mizore spotted a trail of bloody footprints going in the direction of one of the rooms. She stood by the door, finger on the trigger. She readied her weapon and took a deep breath. The snow woman kicked the door down. There was a man inside- bleeding profusely and scared shitless. In his hand was a shotgun… and it was directed at her.
"Die, you monster!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.
She ducked and narrowly missed the shotgun blast that ripped a ten-inch hole off the drywall. She returned fire; five rounds of 5.56 pounded him in the chest. He fell, twitching with his last breaths. The surge of adrenaline went to her head, making her dizzy. Mizore sat against the wall, gasping for air, relieved and terrified at her sudden brush with death.
"You hit?" Sarge and the rest of the team rushed to her and secure the area.
"I'm good." A man in his mid-twenties helped her up. He had a youthful, typical 'boy-next-door' face. Tetsuya Sato, Mizore's partner.
Monster? She got a feeling that whatever did all this wasn't human.
The team pushed forward until they reached the office at the end of the hallway. Mizore and her partner took point. They cleared the room and gave the 'all clear' sign. There was no sign of life. All of them were dead, including one who looked like roadkill.
Mizore gagged at the unrecognizable lump of bloody brain matter, skull fragment, teeth and dislodged eyeballs that were a person's head. Sato actually went through with it and ran to the nearest trash can.
"Jesus. Fucking. Christ!" Sato exclaimed in between expelling the contents of his stomach. Sugimoto, the tallest (and quietest) of the team stood guard by the office entrance while Kanzaki looked around for any accounting books that may have been hidden.
After Sato was done, he took a moment to wipe off the remnants of his sausage breakfast from the corners of his mouth and went over behind the desk. He booted up the PC that had a triple monitor setup.
"Nakazato, status?" Sarge removed his face mask and radioed the leader of Team B.
Brief static was his only reply but then a garbled voice broke through "Found their lab, Sarge. I also found three crates of sealed heroin in here. Hostages are secure, all four of them."
"You know what to do. Follow SOP and get those girls to the paramedics. Out."
"Copy that."
Mizore overheard the radio chatter and took a long sigh of relief, knowing that the kidnapped girls were brought to safety. Every time victims were rescued from such a cruel fate, a little part of her soul had been saved along with them. She wouldn't stop there, not until she had found the peace to quell the turmoil in her heart. At the same time, she wouldn't want the pain to end as it served as a constant reminder of what she lost and who she failed.
She leaned on the wall and removed her helmet. Her spiky, purple hair had been tied up neatly in a bun as to avoid being a liability. They were granted a moment of reprieve. With the place secure, it afforded them the opportunity to ease up a bit. It was far from the eventless mission that she had hoped for, but it was good enough.
Aside from the mountain of paperwork that was sure to follow, she was thankful that someone already took care of the scumbags that resided in the building. A younger, wide-eyed and righteous Mizore would've gone completely by-the-book. She knew that eliminating felons with extreme prejudice went against the code of due process. Such thoughts were unbecoming of those in their profession, but she was already jaded to let idealism get the better of her. If it made the job easier and the world a safer place, she wouldn't have it any other way.
"Sarge, I found their video feeds." Sato continues to type on the keyboard for tech reasons.
"Alright, let's wrap this up. Sato save the recordings on a hard drive, we'll watch them later back at HQ. Let's have the SIT deal with this shit."
Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department- Organized Crime Division - 10:07 AM
In a glass office separated from the activity-filled command center, the rest of the squad sat around a conference table, waiting for Sato to transfer the contents of the USB to a department provided a laptop. At his back were two of the people he respected the most, Sarge and Mizore.
The man noticed that Mizore was leaning far too closely, he stiffened, trying his hardest not to blush. But how can anyone not blush? Mizore was like a dream come true for men like him. She was a hardcore beauty- passionate, dedicated and tough to the bone. And she was very silent and somewhat distant. Only a chosen few would get her to speak more than a couple of sentences. It only added more to the fantasies the men in their group had running in their minds.
"Shirayuki, if you lean that close to me I'm gonna fall in love with you."
His remark earned him a well-deserved slap on the back of his head. Mizore casually moved farther away from him and scooted over to Sarge.
"Is it done yet?" Sarge grew slightly impatient.
"It is now."
The wall mounted 55' LED TV lit up. The recording started playing and it showed a rather intense staredown between a man clad in Spec Ops gear and a Yakuza thug. The team was silent in their anticipation. Suddenly the thug's head got blown out by a silenced bullet. And then another thug exited the room, and then another and another. They started dropping like flies with lethal precision.
"Could he be military?" Mizore asked.
"No tags. No insignias. He must be an enforcer or a hitman from a rival organization. Play the rest of the tapes." Sarge with his dated terms, slightly confused Sato on what he meant for 'tapes', but quickly caught on.
They switched to another file. This time, the assailant engaged more than the twenty plus henchmen in close quarter combat. He moved at an inhuman speed, dodging knife and sword swings like it was a game set on the easiest difficulty. They all marveled at the sheer skill presented on the screen. Mizore, on the other hand, felt a tinge of unease when she saw the movements of their mystery man. It looked familiar as if she saw that fighting style personally.
"This guy's good." They all looked at Sarge with quiet disbelief. He was already known to be the surly old veteran who was notoriously hard to please.
"I'm guessing he's a mercenary. Judging from his tactical gear, he's former Spec Ops, maybe even J-SOC." Sato wanted to make a bet but relented at having to remember that he already lost on a previous one to Mizore.
"Could be." Sarge took a worried glance at Mizore who was at a complete loss for words. One could even say that she rather looked nervous.
"Shirayuki, you all right?"
His deep voice brought her out her funk. Mizore merely nodded in response and continued watching the video.
Sato clicked on the video recording for the office. It started off with Keita Shinohara and the rest of his goons laying waste to a complete innocent door. But then they noticed that there were three other girls that were unaccounted for. Two were unconscious and while the other was naked and being used as a shield.
"Wait… they were only four hostages, right? Who're these other girls?" Sato, being the chatterbox continued asking questions.
Sarge came to a realization, like puzzle pieces falling into place. But held his words should his theory be proven true. It wasn't his first time seeing the video, but he still discovered new things with each viewing.
They watched the remainder of the video in total silence. The scene arrived at the boss' brutal demise. But they were unfazed by the violence. The man took off his mask as he approached the cowering woman, but the CCTV's angle made it impossible to see his face.
"Come on… turn around… turn around…" Sato mumbled. Like a bittersweet closing to a movie, the man calmly embraced the weeping woman and placed his bulletproof vest over her naked body. He replaced his face mask and directly glared at the CCTV as if breaking the fourth wall. The video ended after he aimed his suppressed Beretta.
Sarge went up front and carried with him a thick stack of white folders. He dropped it on the table, the crew eyeing the stacks curiously. Without his helmet on, he looked like an imperial commander. His hair was parted perfectly, he had a gruff exterior and his posture was straight like a posh gentleman with a stiff upper lip.
"There has been an all-time high of drug and trafficking-related cases in the past years. Criminal organizations have been operating more frequently and aggressively out in the open. The higher-ups are already getting desperate to get the situation under control without having the Commission on Human Rights hound their asses.
"Now, this brings us to our next problem." Sarge held up the palm-sized remote to the TV. "Huang Fangfang arrived on Japanese soil yesterday via private jet. We suspect that his arrival has riled the families that run the underground scene here in Japan. In addition, we also suspect that he brought his 'businesses' with him. For now, we will only keep our eyes on him. Any further actions are to be determined by the panel."
Mizore's tensed upon hearing Fangfang's name. It all seemed too convenient. The day after he arrived, a branch of a well-known Yakuza organization was thoroughly eliminated. Could they be connected, she thought?
"The actions of this 'Mr. Black' along with the appearance of Huang have greatly tipped the balance and stability of the criminal underworld.
"We heavily anticipate that a conflict between the ruling families will erupt on the streets, and once it does, we have been granted full authorization to use any means necessary to crack down on their operations. That means we're going in under the radar on this one. Until then, when conducting raids, we follow standard operating procedure "If you have any more inquiries, all of them will be answered in the full debriefing here." With that finisher, he patted the stacks as if it were his own pet cat.
"Distribute this to the rest." He muttered to the nearest operative. Sarge waited until all of them had a folder.
"You are dismissed."
They all stood in unison, obviously eager to get the hell out of there, not allowing the chance for downtime to pass.
Mizore walked towards the exit in a daze. The sounds of the conversing operatives were muffled, like a thick piece of cotton had been jammed into her ears. The time she dreaded had finally arrived. A conflict with the Huang Family was inevitable the moment she signed her life away on that dotted line. She knew things that she thought were better left unsaid about the Huang Family. Even though she knew deep down, all accusations of the crimes they committed were true, she still saw them as the protectors of the peace between the human and yokai realms.
They had various connections and the family was powerful and highly influential. What would happen if they suddenly declared war on the human race? It would be in their best interests not to make enemies out of them. Especially now, with how the family took a sharp descent deeper into the underworld.
Yet here they were.
All the thoughts circling around her head made her feel even dizzier. She was so cut off with the rest of reality that she hadn't noticed that Sato had been calling out to her dozens of times already.
"Mizore!"
Broken from her trance-like musing, Mizore could only utter a simple "huh?"
"Are you okay?"
"Y-yeah. What's up?" She perked up a bit after realizing that she had been zoning out.
I… uh… asked if you wanted to hang out later."
Mizore, who possessed an outwardly dense 'harem MC' style going for her, was actually the sharpest one in the room only second to Sarge. The operatives weren't the only ones who saw all the sparkles and floating hearts.
"Oh… uh…" she remembered something. It seemed important judging by the look of her face. The room was dead silent in anticipation; even Sarge took part in watching the scene unfold. The only thing they needed was popcorn.
"I'm sorry. I have a date."
Sato felt that a little part of him died that day. He could only smile through the pain. He slowly, torturously cracked a smile that went past Mizore's notice. "Oh… Okay… have fun! Take care!" his eye twitched all the while. The other operatives were watching in the sideline, tried their hardest to keep their mouths shut and not burst out laughing.
Mizore nodded and exited the room. Once he was left hanging in the air. The whole room erupted with boisterous laughter like a pressurized container that reached its limit. His attraction to Mizore was the department's worst kept secret after all. They went to him and patted him on the back, seeing that it was his first 'real' attempt at going for a serious relationship- though Sato wasn't sure if they were reassuring him or thanking him for the laugh.
Sarge just shook his head in disbelief. He'd have to remind Sato that fraternization wasn't allowed in his team.
Room 703 – 5:37 AM
Tsukune tossed and turned in bed, drenched in sweat, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs that hugged his toned bottom. On his neck was a silver chain that held his "proof of service" or dog tags together with a broken, familiar looking Rosario. His chest rose erratically, causing the trinkets to jingle and slide to the side.
Poorly wrapped bandages covered the areas where he had been injured- mainly his arms, back, and thighs. The loose dressing allowed droplets of his blood to spill over the mattress. It'd be one hell of a laundry nightmare. The fresh wounds he sustained from his little rescue operation were already healing by that time, but they were susceptible to reopen should he ever go outside the marginalized movement required.
His ripped body was put into display- a walking collection of scars with a bit of ink thrown in the mix. On his right deltoid was the YDF's 226th Battalion insignia and on his left forearm was a minimalist tattoo of the Latin phrase 'Nemo malus felix'. It was almost a surprise with how little his body had been engraved given his work for the Mafia and his service in the military.
His heavy eyes struggled to lift open. Everything was disjointed as consciousness started seeping back into him. Not even a coherent thought could form. His vampiric nature allowed him to see better in his darkly lit room, but blurriness still danced at the edge of his eyes. He squinted hard. The mental strain from just trying to get a clearer picture hurt, he'd rather not open his eyes at all. But there was a reason why he was taken from dreamland. The squinting paid off and he saw a pair of black silhouettes standing at the foot of his bed. He pulled out the suppressed 92FS tucked underneath his pillow- a move as automatic as the beating of his heart. As soon as he had them in his iron sights, they disappeared into thin air. One of them appeared to his right. He was given no time to react before he was unceremoniously knocked out with a punch that almost broke his jaw.
The sweet, metallic scent of blood filled his nostrils. He shivered intensely as the floor was freezer cold, but at the same time, he couldn't move. It was a feeling that he was all too accustomed to. It didn't take him long to realize that he was back in China. He'd been there numerous times, but he was never on the receiving end of the 'special treatment' they gave their prisoners. He was sprawled on his back, the biting cold threatening to eat away his skin. A dull pain shot up his jaw. It was like the loud alarm clock that always ruined your mornings. You fucking hate it, but it always got the job done. That was one-way Tsukune described the pain.
And like the alarm clock, it reminded him how he got into this situation. From behind his shut eyelids, he felt a bright beam of light shine directly in front of his face. He regained control of his limbs; he tried it out with his fingers, lightly moving them one by one. There he noticed that he wasn't tied up or anything. Wrong move. He sprung up violently from the cold floor, ready for another go at his captors, fangs bared to the fullest. Numerous guns simultaneously greeted him from all sides, point blank. But it didn't mitigate his rage in the slightest, especially when he saw one incredibly smug looking face.
"Hey there, Tsukune." Ryota Sakurai smiled, sporting a set of similar fangs, only longer. He had enough plastic in his personality to pollute the ocean. He was a tall, handsome man with raven-black hair spiked up in a faux-hawk do. But he looked mightily haughty, which otherwise ruined his perfectly good looks. It was like his head was a balloon- inflated with a sense of toxic superiority. Out of all the men that had their weapons trained at Tsukune, he was the only one who held a Nodachi. The man pressed the weapon further into Tsukune's neck, enough to sting, but not enough to draw blood.
"I see you got promoted."
"Well, I heard that you were retiring so I had no choice but to step up my game." The way he worded it seemed like he didn't have a choice. The apparent glee brimming from his face told another story.
He stood up slowly, the guns trailing his every move. Even though they were all dressed in black, they had features that distinguished them from one another. He looked to his right: a Hispanic-looking bespectacled man, carrying a suppressed M4.
"I guess you won't be treating me to that beer you owe me, huh Alvaro?"
The man looked up from his red-dot optics with a face that spelled regret. "No, sir." He glanced to his side, to where Ryota was and visibly stiffened. He had no room sympathy now, especially under the new management.
Tsukune looked at his left to where a young, twenty-something lad carried a chrome plated Desert Eagle. He had a buzz cut and he looked young, but he had the stone-cold visage of a veteran. "You're standing too close, Jun-Shik, you're open for a disarming." It was a moment of realization for the young man. He took a step back with a bittersweet smile on his lips. Even now, he still took notes from his mentor.
To his front was a bald man who had Asian features. He looked like a Shaolin monk. On his right hand was a silenced USP and other, crossed below his dominant hand, was tactical knife held in a reverse grip. "Chao, you're stance is slightly off. I might be able to throw you off balance." The man was momentarily surprised, but he nonetheless agreed and shifted his position.
At Ryota's side was a beautiful woman who had hair as black as her clothes. She wore a combination of a tight-fitting leather jacket and leather pants that accentuated her voluptuously healthy figure. Her skin was porcelain-like, but not to the point that it was pale. Her eyes were sharp and her face was completely unreadable. But the slight quiver in her supposedly unwavering grip screamed otherwise. Tsukune only looked at her and could only offer an understanding smile.
Enough of this shit, Tsukune!" Ryota shouted. The vampire pressed his blade deeper until a thin line of blood slid down the ghoul's neck. He didn't realize that he had already stepped on the landmine planted at the end of Tsukune's patience. Ryota pulled back the blade and thrust it at Tsukune. "Don't go you go soft on us you fucking wimp!" He was already tired of playing the sympathy games. He wanted nothing more than to end this foolish charade.
Inches from being brutally impaled, Tsukune sidestepped and grabbed the sword. Ryota had no time to react and was pulled along with the blade. Like a car running at full speed on the wrong lane, his face collided with Tsukune's fist. The vampire was sent flying across the holding cell, with a rooster tail of blood and teeth spewing out of his mouth.
His back slammed on the metal bars, hard enough for them to bend. The impact of the punch parted their formation like Moses separating the red sea. It happened all so fast that they didn't have the time to take in the shock. They re-aimed their weapons at the ghoul. That momentary lapse of judgment would never happen again. They were so busy handling their sentimental attachments to their former leader that they forgot that he was the target. But Tsukune noticed something: he was already open like a book, why would they not open fire?
Their hands quivered while they aimed. Hesitation was clear on their faces. It was obvious that none of them wanted to pull the trigger. Tsukune looked at the men surrounding him. He did train them after all. They only got to where they were under his tutelage. The ghoul felt a swell of pride and guilt at seeing how they all turned out. From fresh-faced greenhorns to a cohesive unit of hardened killers. But they weren't incapable of feeling some warmth. As much as they learned under him, they also had a bond that only a battlefield could forge.
But it wasn't the time for that. "Remember what I told you?"
They didn't answer.
"In the event that you find yourself emotionally compromised…"
"Calm your nerves. Steel your hearts. It's only a job." They all said collectively. It was a mantra that members of their profession lived by. Reciting it only seemed to make them even more disinclined for a second. But they shook it off as if his words were a confirmation on his final order as their superior. The sole female of the group shook her head in disbelief and disappointment. She broke out of formation and leaned on the wall, fully intending to act as a mere spectator.
At the very back to where Ryota was launched, Tsukune saw him rise like the undead creatures that they were. His body contorted unnaturally with a feral, animalistic intensity. "Tsu…Ku…Ne…" his voice was already distorted from the rising levels of dark youki encircling him like a vortex made of bat wings. Ryota's eyes were glazed with the bloodlust inherent in their race.
They all had the killing intent in their eyes- the same ones he had when he first took this god-forsaken job.
"Good." This was it. He wasn't their mentor or their friend anymore. He smiled wickedly ear-to-ear as black veins started crawling on the sides of his neck, with all the vigor of a malignant, all-consuming entity. His irises bled a deep shade of crimson and his pupils thinned into cat-like slits. The youki he emitted had an overflowing hostility that managed to push the squad a few steps back- their primordial instinct of flight kicking in at sensing the extreme danger.
Bright sparks of electricity traveled along his forearms. Circuit-like patterns embedded on his arms lit up like a Christmas tree with a bright blue glow. Magic circles formed on his wrists. If he were ever going to use his Youki, now would be the best of times.
Ryota lunged forward with the ferocity of an animal out for blood. The squad slowly squeezed their triggers. The hammers of some of the pistols started pulling back, ready to blast the lead rounds in their chambers. Everything slowed down. He never really intended to fight them. They just needed the little push. Tsukune closed his eyes in resignation and accepted his fate.
A hand grabbed the back of Ryota's head, halting his charge, but he flailed around even after being lifted off the ground. He fought back like an animal caught in a trap, but the owner of the arm stood his ground. The hand tightly squeezed Ryota's head, fingers digging into his skull, and slammed him on the floor hard enough to form a crater. It was brutal but it knocked back some sense into the wild vampire. The squad spun around, weapons ready at the unexpected retaliation. Their eyes widened in shock and they immediately lowered their weapons and bowed.
"Ease down, everyone." Huang Fangfang stood before them personally. They all bowed in his presence as he walked closer to Tsukune. He held up an outstretched palm to the bald guy, Chao. The man gave him a pistol. He pulled back the slide for a brass check and aimed the gun at Tsukune. The ghoul cleverly hid the relief on his face with a sardonic smile.
"Hold him." The Yasha commanded. Jun-Shik and Alvaro apologetically moved to restrain both of his arms.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Why do you ask me that fucking time? Have you no respect for me anymore?" Fangfang whipped Tsukune in the face with the pistol's grip. He spat out a thick wad of phlegm and blood. He looked back at Fangfang, defiance in his eyes. The Yasha drove his fist on Tsukune's gut and continued to pound him with the pistol until his mouth leaked of blood like a running faucet. The woman looked away, unable to stomach Tsukune's beating. He sagged against his tethers, almost fainting from the immense pain.
The Yasha grabbed a handful of the man's hair and lifted up his head. His brows furrowed at his apparent failure to wipe off the defiance from the ghoul's face. Fangfang pressed the pistol to Tsukune's chin and pulled back the hammer.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't coat the floor with your brains right now."
"Because it would be one hell of a cleaning job." Tsukune managed to jest in such a tense situation. An ugly wrinkle formed at the bridge of Fangfang's nose. His face scrunched up in anger and he started pounding Tsukune's face again and again and again.
"Just do it. Kill me already." His speech was slurred. Blood and saliva bubbled out of the corner of his bruised lips as he attempted to breathe out of his mouth. Fangfang heard a recovering Ryota chuckle from the side. The Yasha gave him a death glare at his inability to read the mood. "You! Shut the fuck up!" The vampire froze and folded like a scolded puppy. He shrank back down and looked the other way, clearly humiliated.
"Not until you tell me why you disobeyed a direct order."
He stared intently into Fangfang's eyes. Suddenly he had wild visions of killing the Yasha on the spot. He forgot the time when it all started, the time when he wished death or grievous bodily harm on the man he once called 'friend'. But Tsukune immediately relented and instead of outright killing him, he opted for a more diplomatic approach. It's not like he had any choice.
"You wanted to expand your business here right? When the Inagawa-kai attacked Alan and his family, they gave you -us- an excuse to legally retaliate."
Fangfang raised a brow "Care to elaborate?"
"If they find out that Alan had already left the family, wiping out one of their branches for no apparent reason would violate the treaty. By keeping Alan alive, it would be a sign that he was still a part of the family and that there was a legitimate reason for retribution. If not, then it would be YOU who'd have started a war."
Fangfang was taken aback. His face had a mixture of shock and surprise. He let Tsukune continue, intrigued at what he had to say.
"Think about it. By tomorrow, peace talks and negotiations would ensue. Your chance to take over Japan just got handed to you on a plate."
Fangfang smirked knowingly and ordered the men to release him. Tsukune dropped on the ground on all fours. Blood had already pooled on his throat and it hindered his breathing. He coughed a copious amount of the thick crimson in a vain attempt to clear out his esophagus. Fangfang walked towards the cell entrance and motioned for the rest of the squad to follow.
"You're getting better at this, Tsukune." Fangfang commended with a cheeky grin. The flattery didn't exactly fill Tsukune with joy. He'd rather damn the faint praise. His bloody coughing fit wouldn't seem to end. Fangfang's blows were really fucking strong and it weakened him to the point that could barely stand.
Ryota, already healed due to his regeneration, relished in Tsukune's sorry state. He crawled on the ground like the dog that he was. It couldn't get any better than that. It was already embarrassing just to put 'ghoul' and 'vampire' in the same sentence, but to fucking work for one? Such travesties were unforgivable. Ghouls were beings that were doomed to devolve into mindless abominations. They were filthy creatures that reeked the stench of death. Yet they were deemed linked to the vampire race which was the source of their never-ending displeasure.
The vampire noticed that his twin hadn't moved from her spot. "Reika! Let's go." The vampiress ignored him and went over to Tsukune's side. She slung his arm around her shoulder and gently heaved him back up to his feet. It was mainly to help the man, but she also did so to spite her twin.
"Reika, let go of that trash. RIGHT. FUCKING. NOW."
Reika executed a set of complex hand signs. A magical circle appeared directly below their feet, with the two of them being the focal point. Reika and Tsukune were engulfed in a blob of bright, white light.
Room 703 – 6:29 AM
Reika set him on the bed. The man was heavy, but thanks to her vampiric strength, it didn't seem much of a bother. His breathing was ragged and he could hardly maintain a rigid state. Reika held his face up to examine the damage done. She slightly winced at the bruises and lacerations Fangfang inflicted on him.
Come on, let's get you cleaned up." She propped him up on a pile of pillows so that his upper body would be elevated. She went for his closet and grabbed a few towels and a first aid kit. She turned on the sink, soaked the towels and went back to Tsukune, who was slipping in and out of consciousness.
"You're not healing like you used to."
"Well…I…don't have much time anyway…" he chuckled like it was completely normal to live on borrowed time.
In the years they knew each other, Tsukune was usually the type of person who'd only talk when being spoken to. The real quiet type who'd let his actions do the talking. But in times that he showed off a smile, such as the one he presently wore, she wondered what kind of person he was before he joined the military and the syndicate. His smile was her only real glimpse of his former life. It must've been a good life, she thought.
She gingerly wiped the blood off his face. Even though it stung at the slightest touch, he was unable to put up much resistance. She worked her hands, removing the loose dressings and started stitching up his wounds with a gentle dexterity that flowed like water. There was a skill on her nimble fingers that could only be achieved through years of repetition. But the familiarity she displayed on his body made it clear that she did it only for one person.
Tsukune observed her silently while she did her magic. It only hit him now that he only had two or three years left. He tried to take in every moment and sensation as much as he could- the needle and thread going in and out of his skin, her soft hands brushing against him with delicate strokes. The pain, the hardship, the shit he went through, he felt like all of them were moments worth preserving, because they were the times that he actually felt alive the most.
He looked at the woman who had just finished stitching the last of his wounds- which was a sizeable gash on his thigh. Only then did he start to appreciate the unconditional aid he regularly became a recipient of. Tsukune gently patted her on the head. She looked up, puzzled at the sudden affectionate contact. It was funny, he thought. She really did have a passing resemblance to Moka- a slightly downgraded Moka with black hair, but still achingly beautiful in her own right.
She pursed her lips cutely. "If you keep doing that I'm gonna fall in love with you all over again."
"I'm sorry…I'm just really thankful."
She felt odd warmth spread across her chest, a feeling that she had almost forgotten had his words not reminded her that she too was a creature who felt the heat of passion and the complexities of emotion. Reika placed her hand above his own and guided it until it cupped her face. They sat in silence, eyes deeply locked with each other. She fiddled with the links on his Holy Lock, counting out the ones that were already broken.
"Why did you do it?" she asked.
"What?"
"Why did you save Alan and his family?"
He wanted to tell her that he saw himself in the older man. Like him, Alan only wanted to live his life in peace, away from the dangers and moral dilemmas that came with being part of the family. He could write a hundred-page essay detailing every single reason why he wanted to get out of the Mafia. But the words had not found its way out of his mouth; it was lost in a sea of disjointed thoughts.
"I wanted to do something good while I'm still alive." It was the best he could say at the moment. Reika let go of his hand. It looked like she was about to say something, but it got stuck halfway. Tsukune had already anticipated what it was about.
His smile was comforting "I still have two or three years left in me." He took the words off her mouth and lifted the burden of having to ask such questions off her shoulders. He hated bringing up the subject of his impending death, but no matter how good he was at dodging the topic, it would always pop-up one way or another.
"What about the money, Reika?" he abruptly changed the subject. He wouldn't want to delve in it any longer than necessary.
"I'll wire it to your account. "He nodded, but then she continued "4 million is a lot of money… and your jobs seem to be getting more expensive each time. So is it true? Are you really retiring?"
"I am. Well, I'm trying anyway. Fangfang isn't too keen on letting me go." Why would he let Tsukune go? He was his top enforcer and hitman. Without sugarcoating it, he really was just an expendable asset. Once his time has come, he would be worth nothing more than a cheap roll of toilet paper.
Tsukune felt something rise in his stomach. It traveled upwards to his throat quickly and he jumped off the bed and staggered towards the bathroom. Reika followed him worriedly. She said something but he couldn't make out what it was. All he knew was that his body was on the verge of collapse. It felt like he was crumbling from the inside. He gripped the sides of the sink and started vomiting blood. It looked as painful as it really was. His stomach churned, squeezing out every fluid in the sack. Reika could only trace circles on his back as he heaved his insides out. His retching was distressing to hear yet she was powerless to actually do anything.
"R-Reika…transfer the money to their accounts…" it was a miracle that he managed to say a word, let alone a sentence.
"What?" she asked perplexed and somewhat indignant "I will not allow you to continue torturing yourself like this!" it was something that she grew tired of. Constantly depriving himself of the money he deserved just to fuel his little guilt trip. She won't do it. Not anymore.
He didn't reply. Not that he could. The ceramic under his vicelike grip shattered like they were made of brittle glass. His vomiting had been reduced until there was nothing left push out. The ghoul momentarily blacked out, consciousness was robbed from him like a thief in the night, but Reika caught him in time with an embrace that held up his limp body. She set him down on the tile floor and propped him against the wall. Reika used a couple of tissues to wipe off the blood and bile that slathered his face.
"Oh, god…" The sight of his rapid deterioration was just too much. She was on the verge of tears but she valiantly fought them off.
Through half-open eyes he saw her face, for a moment there he really thought she was Moka and that he was starting to wake from a never-ending nightmare. He leaned forward against her shoulder with little control. They took a moment of pause for him to regain his flow of breathing. His lips quivered at being so close to her. His throat was parched and his mouth was all shriveled up. Her soft supple, skin was like an oasis in the middle of the desert. Like any man stranded in a barren land, a source of nourishment was all too enticing to ignore.
She seemed to have caught on with his desire for sustenance. Reika exposed her neck invitingly, but with no sensuality behind it. His fangs lengthened in response to her beckoning. Though they weren't as long compared to those of a real vampire's, it was enough to pierce her skin and draw out the life-giving liquid. A soft moan escaped her mouth as her head tilted upward. He started suckling gently, savoring the warmth of the fresh blood sliding down his throat. It wasn't like the blood packs he regularly consumed which had a stale, diluted taste. This was richer and flavorful; carrying so much life in it that he felt like it extended his own.
But, he didn't know what was in store for him if he kept on drinking- if he crossed the forbidden threshold. He pulled away, satisfied and guilt-ridden. Reika was left gasping for air, puzzled and slightly disappointed as to why he stopped. It was absolutely the same as getting interrupted short of having an orgasm.
"Sorry…" he muttered, satiated but still feeling like shit. But his wounds were closing faster thanks to her blood. He wearily snuggled to the crook of her neck, thankful for the meal.
She felt him lightly shiver against her body. She pushed away any feelings of inadequacy and tried to understand his reasons. He was a ghoul after all… If he drank too much blood, it might only hasten his descent into insanity.
"It's okay…" She missed holding him like this. The vampiress pressed his head closer and buried her nose in his hair that smelled of blood, sweat and faint traces of shampoo.
The budding thought that she planted earlier had already grown, but she was reluctant to speak her mind, fearful that it would be cut down before it bore any fruit. But she didn't know when the right time would come. If she held it in any longer and find the strength to do it later, it might be too late.
Tsukune… have you ever thought about…us? About getting back together?"
"Yes… many times…" it came out of his mouth without the slightest hesitation. She sighed. His answer was just too perfect, too ideal. She didn't feel the relief like she thought she would. Before he could follow it up, she spoke again with quiet resolve.
"Then let's run away. Leave this all behind."
The idea was truly tempting: settling down in a quiet, isolated countryside with a beautiful woman and maybe two or three of their kids running around the yard. He'd thought about it when they were together. They would escape, kill all of the pursuers, find a cure and live a quiet life together. He was so close to giving in. But as much of an ideal life it presented, it also underscored the pitfalls of falling in love while leading a life such as theirs. The only ending he ever saw coming was death for both of them.
"They'll kill you…" he wasn't referring to just the mafia, but her family as well. Vampire society won't take it too kindly with one of their kind eloping with a lowly being like him.
"I don't care. We can take them out."
It already happened before. But instead of being eliminated, he got away with a mere warning. It was the sole reason why they broke up. He accepted the condition without a second thought, even if it meant seeing her heart shatter into a million pieces.
"I'm sorry, Reika. But I can't risk it. I won't put you in such a situation." Even if they managed to succeed, he won't be able to live long anyway. She'd be left alone in the world and there was no way that he'd let her go through that. As much as he wanted to move forward with her, it was absolutely selfish and downright impossible. Thinking about it filled him with even more despair at how unjust the world worked.
"But-"
Tsukune silenced her with a finger placed above her lips. "Nothing you say will ever change my mind, Reika." His tone was absolute but riddled with regret and longing. It was the final nail in the coffin. And he would hammer it down until he got his point across.
The vampiress cupped his face and defiantly brought her lips to his. He tried to pull away but she held him tightly, not wanting to let go. She moved pleadingly, desperately, cheeks already wet with her tears. She was a strong woman, but she only let herself be free when she was with him. It successfully broke down his defenses and made him grab her waist and deepen the kiss.
He slumped in her embrace not a moment later. She pulled away with an expression that couldn't be described with a thousand words. He'd lost consciousness again. Things were already heating up. Everything was good and romantic; a comeback for the ages could be seen in the distance.
But he was knocked out. It seemed like he won't be waking up any time soon.
"Asshole…"
Room 702 – 10:35 AM
"Mother, please. We already talked about this!" Kurumu leaned back on the kitchen counter, phone pressed tightly to her ear. She fought off the urge to say mean, nasty things at her mother who was yammering on about wanting grandkids.
"Well, how can I not think about it, honey?! My daughter is older than me when I gave birth! Hell, you're turning thirty in two years!"The even bustier succubus, Ageha, said on the other line.
"Mother, Succubi are long lived so don't have to worry about it so soon!" her patience was wearing thin. Her mother was truly the insufferable type. But she only wanted what was best for her daughter, so Kurumu understood that and loved her for it. Except for maybe her incessant reminders that she was still single at 28 and a virgin. Not that she minded being a single woman and a virgin at that age. Kurumu was a working woman- she had goals damn it! Her life was intricately planned out in every stage and she wouldn't want to go off-track now, but she could entertain a slight exception.
She had to get her mother to back off some way, even if it meant a teeny tiny lie. "Also, you don't need to introduce me to that guy. I already have a boyfriend." The line was silent for about a minute or so. For a second there, she froze in fear. Did her mother call her bluff?
"Is it true? My god! How come you never told me!" she did it. She actually fooled her.
"We…uh…just started dating two months ago. And you were just so busy, being in Senate and all." She sheepishly replied. Though it was about as true as the earth being flat, she still entertained the notion and allowed herself to indulge in her fantasies.
"What's he like?"
"He's tall…" she closed her eyes, trying her best to come up with the image of her perfect guy. "Muscular, but not swole… more… ripped." The mental image started taking shape, perfectly generic, not distinguishable at all. "Handsome…" suddenly her neighbor's face popped up in her daydream. "He's quite stoic and rough around the edges…" her mind went back to when she was stuck fumbling with her door. She remembered being rejected at first glance but somehow managed to bounce back and even catch a glimpse of his softer side. "But he's really a good person, deep down." She started blushing madly, embarrassed and ashamed that she had to rely on such a short moment to conjure up two month's worth of romance.
"He seems like a catch. I'd like to meet him next week."
Holy crap! She already had one foot in her grave. Not only did she fell down, but she managed to dig herself deeper.
"You can't! Uh… he's a really busy person!" she was already sweating bullets, trying to think of the best possible course to diffuse the situation.
Ageha seemed to have caught on to her little farce. Kurumu could practically feel her mother smugly smirking through the phone. "Hm… you sound rather…distressed?" Ageha faked a gasp of shock "Could it be that you were actually lying to me Kurumu?!" she started fake- crying. "How could you do this to your mother? I never raised you to be a liar!"
Kurumu's eye twitched. Her mother was prone to having fake emotional outbursts just to get a rise out of her. Even though she hated it to the fullest extent, it always managed to get the intended reaction out of her. "F.Y.I mother, he's real as you and me! In fact, he lives right next door!"
"Well, then that's perfect honey!" her sing-song tone resumed with a flick of a switch. "You remember about the Grand Ball, right? Bring him with you next week! Oh my, this is exciting news! I'll tell all of my friends! I know they'd be as happy as I am if they knew that our little Kurumu has finally snagged a man."
"The Grand Ball? Are you kidding me, mother!? I don't even know if he's even a monster yet!" panic was very clear in her voice.
"Well, you better find out, dear-y! Look I have to go now. I can't wait to meet him! Don't use protection, okay? I want grandkids. Bye, darling! I love you! Take care! Mwah!"
The phone call ended and Kurumu was left contemplating her life choices. She was never the one to back down on any challenge presented to her. It was part of her programming- a fiery drive the stemmed from her mother's side of the family. A disposition so flawed that it would certainly be her downfall. Her shoulders slumped and she planted her face in her bandaged palms. "Oh god… what have I gotten myself into?"
The oven's timer let out a sharp 'ding' that pierced through her reflective state. She hopped off the counter, excited like a little girl. The succubus opened the oven's door and the delicious scent of sweet, hearty chocolate cupcakes wafted out in full blast. 'The best way to man's heart is through his stomach' was Ageha's number one tactic in winning over potential mates and it was something taught to Kurumu at a very tender age. It was supposed to be just a method in gaining the favor of a potential lover, but it soon became a hobby that she would genuinely enjoy. She never expected that she'd be able to use it for the intended purpose.
You can do it, Kurumu!" She psyched herself up. The cupcakes were made with the finest ingredients; crafted with delicate skill mastered over the years and seasoned with a fine dose of passion and love. In the hands of others, they would be but simple cupcakes and nothing more. In the hands of a skilled woman such as herself, she could make any pastry into an aphrodisiac. This would surely melt that frozen heart of his.
With her hands partially healed thanks to Yukari's potions, she was able to carry the plastic container that had about twelve cupcakes in it. She stepped out of her unit looking like a ray of sunshine- jovial and humming a cheery tune. The door to her neighbor's suddenly opened which broke her confident stride and gave her the jitters. What will he do? Will he like the cupcakes? Will he even take them?
A tall woman with beautiful, waist-length hair stepped out of his condo. She looked intimidating as hell, which somehow reminded her of Inner Moka. Her eyes were red and cat-like. A vampire? She thought. Well, she certainly had the dense aura of one. If she was, would she just unabashedly parade her true form for all the humans to see?
But wait...
So if a vampire came visiting him, then that would mean he'd an Ayashi too, right? But then again, who is she? His girlfriend? She could sense familiarity from her gait and the way she went out of his condo, so she couldn't rule out the possibility of her being the significant other. With each passing thought, Kurumu became more and more disheartened and was about to throw in the towel until Reika caught her staring.
The succubus broke her gaze and looked the other direction. Reika noticed the plastic container she held in her bandaged hands. She'd heard of the reports of his high school 'harem', but she never thought she'd get to meet one in the flesh. Is this Kurumo Kurono? She's smaller than I imagined. With her keen sense of smell, she was quick to identify what was inside it. Cupcakes, huh? Straight from the oven at that. The vampiress thought. It was painfully obvious who the recipient was. The background check was accurate; she really was a thirsty one, especially for Tsukune, even though her memories presented a blank slate. To think that the amnesiac succubus would still be subconsciously drawn to that man… her love for him must've been really something.
She hated how he attracted so many women without even trying to. It caused her no small amount of jealousy the entire time they were together. But now that it seemed that there was a sense of finality in their relationship, she couldn't help but be torn up about it. She saw herself in Kurumu- wide-eyed and hopelessly in love. Maybe the succubus would have a better chance with him. But even then, her chances were really slim. The vampiress took comfort in the possibility that she wasn't the only who'd be rejected.
"He's sleeping." Reika told the other woman.
"What?"
"He's resting right now. He wouldn't want to be bothered. You should give those to him later." The vampiress bowed curtly. Kurumu saw her eyes shift into normal looking ones once she lifted her head. Reika left without saying another word.
It sounded like she was wishing her good luck or something.
"But… how did she know?"
St. Luke's Chapel – 3 days ago
Mizore got on her toes and planted a lingering kiss on his cheek. The things she felt were a mixed bag. She was happy to see him doing so well, but a part of her was uncertain if she really wanted to see him again. She still remembered the circumstances in which they separated and it pretty much nudged the metaphorical knife lodged in her heart.
But she wasn't going to overlook the probability of starting over with him. The way he held her tightly only confounded her belief that the time was ripe for reconciliation. Eight years had to have dampened any sort of reluctance for getting back together. The snow woman started walking, occupied with thoughts of second chances while also being troubled with the urge to have a date with Rosie Palms.
"Mizore," Tsukune called out to her.
She stopped and looked back at him. She waited for the rest of what he had to say. He looked conflicted, struggling with his words. Given his distant demeanor, he certainly wasn't the type to follow up a conversation.
"I…uh…want to see you again. Some other time… I mean if you're not busy."
She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She'd let the joy and excitement sink in later, but now she had to play it calm and cool.
"Sure." She walked over back to him and handed her phone- the dial screen already up. "Give me your number." She waited for him to take the phone. But he only looked at it, puzzled. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"I don't have a phone."
Are you fucking kidding me?! "Are you serious?"
He only nodded plainly. Mizore sighed. Has he been living under a rock this whole time?
"Have we been living on the same planet?" it seemed like a perfectly valid question.
"Hey, it's not like I exactly needed one before. Besides, even if I had one, I wouldn't know who to contact anyway." Well, he did have a point. There meeting must was just a coincidence. If they arrived an hour late or early, they wouldn't be even having this conversation at all. Thus, he'd find no use for a cell phone.
"Okay fine. Do you have an email address?" it was certainly better than not having anything.
"No."
What the hell?! This was going to be a lot harder than she imagined. She sighed, asking for guidance on the god or gods above. "I'll help you buy one. You know Venus Fort, right? The one in Odaiba? We go there."
"All right then. Let's meet at the station on Saturday if you're not busy." Tsukune admired her assertiveness and decisive character. Admiration born from his shortcomings with the lack of said qualities.
"Time?"
"I'll meet you there at 5:00 PM"
As the time of their 'date' neared, Mizore found herself in front of her calendar again- page flipped to March, wondering if she made the right decision of following him back to the chapel or by even proposing to accompany him. As each second flew by where she sat in the quiet of her apartment, her thoughts became louder than ever. A lot of unwanted feelings came back along with him. And being alone in a silent place with nothing to do but to ponder over her thoughts and let her feelings of fear, apprehension, and love sink in almost drove her mad.
She opened her closet and grabbed a small, rectangular tin jewelry box that had a lock to keep it sealed. She placed it on her table and she gazed at it, unsure as to why she brought it back out into the open after all this time. She found the strength unlock it. After that, she didn't touch it again. She was back to zero. And it was going to take a lot of mental fortitude at attempting to even lift the lid. Mizore replaced the lock and shoved the box away like it committed a grave offense.
She placed a hand on her belly habitually, contemplatively "What the hell am I doing?"
Room 703 – 3:27 PM
Much like Mizore, Tsukune was alone, sitting at the dining alcove of his condo, smoking a cigarette and absentmindedly fiddling with both the dog tags on his neck and Moka's broken rosary. Reika already left, but he could still smell her perfume in the room. Their kiss was the last thing he felt before he blacked out. He traced a finger on his lips where the sensation of her soft, pouty ones never left. By no means was she a replacement for Moka. She was a strong and as beautiful as her and he came to love her genuinely. Even to the point of envisioning a life with her. But he'd be lying to himself if he said that her uncanny resemblance to the silver-haired vampiress wasn't the reason why they had a relationship in the first place.
He finished the cigarette and smushed the smoldering butt against the ashtray. He lit another one up and continued staring into space. Tsukune usually avoided the cancer sticks, especially with his death fast approaching. He wouldn't want to hasten the process now, would he? But he always kept a pack reserved for moments such as this.
He barely made it out alive against the hit squad Fangfang sent for him. It was only because of his latent talent in diplomacy. But why did he choose to fight for his life if he was going to die anyway? What was his purpose? Is it to find a cure? To have a semblance of closure on Kyouko's death? Whatever it was, he had to find out fast.
With all the shit happening, he didn't even have a moment to look around his new residence. He didn't even have the chance to unpack his clothes yet. It was a modest place, charitable, no personal touches at all (as if he was the type of person for that). The bed was unmade and the sheets still had his dried blood. Dishes on the sink, guns and bullets scattered on the carpet floor. A few days in everything was already a mess.
He looked at the digital clock that read '3:35 pm'. "Time to get ready." He almost forgot that he'd meet with Mizore today. It was better than staying here. He checked inside the dressings that Reika reapplied. His wounds were already healed, but it left fresh scars in their wake. He'd just have to cover them up. He's not going to get naked in front Mizore anytime soon that's for sure.
Tsukune went inside the bathroom. He needed to take a bath first and wash the grime off his body. He didn't want to scare the snow woman with his stench.
Ten minutes later and the ghoul stepped out of the shower feeling like a new man. He slipped on a grey shirt and black jeans. He unpacked a pair of black Adidas-looking sneakers from his duffle bag and put them on. He grabbed his leather jacket slung over a chair. He was ready to go. No need for the excessive styling that men do nowadays. They were just going to buy a phone anyway, he didn't have to dress up like it was prom night.
It was already her fifth time standing in front of his door. Surely by now, he'd be awake. She became disillusioned with each visit; the constant staring at the large piece of rectangular wood chipped away her enthusiasm. Not only that, but the cupcakes were already cold. She started wondering if it was all for a lost cause. Mere inches from knocking again; she pulled her hand away realizing that if she hammered on that door, it'd be like willfully touching a scalding metal pot. She'd just get burned even more.
"I can't do this!" She was just going to give cupcakes, how hard could it be? To give an answer: it was very hard. But what spurred her feelings of uncertainty and insecurity was something completely out of her hands. If she were to play the blame game, she'd pin it on the woman who just stepped out of the very door she stood in front of. The woman was absolute, one hundred percent, his girlfriend. No doubt about it. She was already called "The Virgin" back at her homeworld, she didn't want to be called Kurumu "The Homewrecker" Kurono here. Well… stealing a mate was perfectly normal back in her land… but there was no way it would apply here. As if she could steal a man!
"Damn vampires…" she hissed under her breath. Vampires were the real homewreckers, not her. Of all the people, she started picturing Moka staring lovingly with the man of her dreams again. She didn't know if it was just because Moka was the only vampire she was close with, or if there was something deeper behind it. One thing she knew was that her resentment towards the red-eyed bastards ran deep. She was about to call it a day and return to her room, but then she remembered her sole reason for being there. It would be a waste of passion and effort if the cupcakes never made it to him.
She heard his door creak behind her. It made her jump out in surprise when he stepped out of the room, looking fresh and casual. And he was back to looking like the man she met at the cemetery, not the mean spirited, suit wearing, handsome asshole she met yesterday. But he looked troubled and unfocused. Relationship troubles maybe?
He finally noticed her standing there. She tried, with every ounce of strength, to bring out her cheery smile. She did it so fast that the drastic shift from sullen to shining almost gave her whiplash. "H-hey…" she said nervously while holding the container.
"Hey" was his simple reply. He eyed her hands: they were bandage free now, then to the box of cupcakes. He raised a brow "How are your hands?"
"Oh! Uh… They're okay now!"
Tsukune knew that she was an Ayashi. Faster regeneration was a given. But he wouldn't want to ask any more unnecessary questions. "That's good." He offered a brief, casual smile that had no emotion to it.
She noticed that he was already geared up and set to go. She felt her heart sink a little.
"Are you leaving?" she asked, slightly downcast.
"Yeah. What's wrong?"
"I was just going to give to this you… as a housewarming gift." she motioned towards the cupcakes "But you look busy so I'll just give it to you later." She smiled and gave a polite bow. The succubus headed back to her condo, but a hand caught her wrist with a gentleness that seemed mindful of her injuries.
"It's okay. I'll leave it in my room."
She turned around and saw his expression. It was still as cold as a fridge, but there was warmth in it that looked awfully familiar like she had seen it a thousand times already. She handed him the box of cupcakes and he took it graciously.
"Thank you." He said as he entered his condo and emerged a few seconds later without the box. "I'll eat them later." And he walked away.
The succubus looked on with renewed interest as he got farther away from her. Maybe she had a chance after all.
A/N: I made a little addition to the first chapter on Mizore's part. It's going to be really integral to her character later so be sure to check it out before reading this!
This was one of the more romance heavy chapters in the story and there will be no shortage of them in the future. But rest assured, there will also be plenty of action in the coming chapters! So please stay tuned!
Anyway, the reason for such a long delay was because I found a little black notebook of mine that contained notes on how I should go about this story. It was too much to pass up so I included bits and pieces of them here. Rather than be a remake, this will be a full re-envisioning. (If you noticed I reused some of the characters from my first story "After A Fairy Tale".)
Thank you for reading! Also, thank you for the reviews! Happy new year!