Chapter 6

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Takao got down on a knee almost instantly after throwing the punch, as he carefully reached out both his hands and held on to the sides of Midorima's face, tilting it slightly as he tried to inspect the damages inflicted. As much as he wanted to pulverize the person who dared lay a finger on him, right now his health and safety was his main prioritization.

"Shin-chan, are you okay? Does it-" He paused, as his eyes widened when he noticed the trail of blood running down his face from his wound. "Oh my god, you're bleeding. How- But it couldn't have- Just, don't worry, I don't think it's anything serious. It'll heal. Does it hurt? It does, doesn't it? Could you bear the pain? Do you want me to get some medication? I can run down to the stall and-" He droned on with his hand lightly grazing over the wound, causing Midorima to flinch away. Takao was trying his best to reassure him, no doubt, but it appeared more so to the green haired man that he was actually comforting himself.

"Takao, shut up. I'm fine." Midorima said, as he pried his friend's fingers off and shoved Takao's face, which had been too near for comfort, away. "Get off me. Of course it hurts, you idiot. It's made of wood. You're giving me a worse headache."

"Right, right. Okay, sorry. There's no one else here but the nearest medical station should be nearby. C'mon I'll help you up-" He stood back up on both feet and extended an arm for him to grab, but just as he did so, there was a heavy strike at the back of his head which made him stop short. Normally, the force itself would've been more than capable to take a human out. But Takao just felt an annoying sting.

He froze, peering down at the broken half of a wooden rod that was now tumbling across the ground. He clucked his tongue as he dropped his extended arm. Had the man from earlier gotten back on his feet already? The punch he dealt wasn't exactly light, and it was a miracle he still had the strength to manage a hit like that, after only a few minutes. Takao turned around slowly, popping his knuckles, readying himself for another punch that he would make sure was enough to knock the guy out for good. But as he laid eyes on the culprit, he found bemusement arising instead.

His eyebrows turned up at the sight of a blue haired boy holding tightly to the other half of the broken wooden rod in his hands. The man- no, boy, standing in front of him was definitely not who he expected to see.

He was looking at the broken weapon in his hands with utter shock, then at Takao and to the floor where the other half laid and back again at the rod, like he couldn't believe what just happened. He was slightly to the scrawny side, but the hit he delivered wasn't falling in comparison to one a stronger man would give.

Takao stared at him incredulously. Did he really think he could pull off a trick like that, again? Did he really think it would work once more and much less, be able to hurt him? He knew his other partner hadn't had much training in the battle field as he did in the medical one; in fact, this was probably Midorima's first time out. It was only natural for Takao to assume that the green haired man was more susceptible to injuries than he was - because unlike Midorima, he had years of practice.

But what had stirred him up more was the fact that he hadn't been able to sense his presence earlier. When had the kid got here? Was it when he wasn't paying attention? No, it couldn't have been. He would have still been able to sense him approaching, no matter how good his stealth game was. Then was he here the whole time? But if so, why hadn't he been able to detect the boy? There were many questions clouding his mind, but he found answers to none. He turned his eyes to the other man lying on the ground behind the boy, who was now rubbing his face and attempting to get up on the pile of broken glass.

Despite his confusion - probably due to the fact that Takao hadn't gotten injured at the impact – the blue haired boy managed to utter a few words. "Stay away from him."

Takao had then still been too startled by his overall presence in general that he failed to fully notice him charging forward again with a potentially dangerous weapon that was, fortunately for him, held in the wrong way to possibly be of any harm. He extended his hand just in the nick of time and slammed his forearm into the boy's face. The audible cracking sound of bones could be heard as the heavy impact sent him flying towards the side, colliding into the wall where he slumped down on the ground, defeated.

"SHIT! Kuroko!" The other man bellowed, his frantic voice echoing throughout the house. Takao froze as he whipped his head around to him. He was hurriedly rushing off the ground now, running straight for the fallen figure of the boy across the room.

Takao spun around to look at Midorima - who up till now had remained relatively silent in his position on the floor - as the latter man's eyes widened in shock as well.

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Midorima pushed himself off the floor, dusting his sleeves as he walked up to his comrade, who was facing two injured people opposite of him. "Sorry, um, hey - four eyes." Takao spoke up, directing his attention back to the man kneeling beside the young boy, who paid his words little to no heed.

"Hey - dammit. Tetsuya, can you hear me?" He said, shaking the unconscious boy roughly by his shoulders, which only managed to get more violent as the boy's nose started to bleed.

"Hey, over here! Sorry to interrupt, but could you spare us a second? "

Again, there was no response. Instead, the man leaned forward to check for a pulse on the boy's neck, sighing in relief once he found one.

"Pal, pause for a minute. We need to ask you somet-"

"Shut the hell up." The man replied harshly, finally acknowledging their presence without looking, earning a surprised look from Takao as he sat the boy up straighter.

"Woah hey, it's important. We just want to ask you something." He raised his arms defensively.

"I don't think you've earned any rights to. You've done enough damage here. Get out."

Takao frowned at the accusatory statement, opening his mouth to retort, but Midorima beat him to it. "What's his name?"

The man looked up and stared at him like he'd grown two heads. "What?"

"What's his name?" He repeated, features growing slightly annoyed and impatient as he crossed his arms.

"Why do you care?" After this, he instinctively acquired a defensive posture as he placed an arm in front of the younger male. It was obvious, the strength contrasts of both parties were too drastic, and the man before them looked intelligent enough to have realized that by now. He wasn't any match for the two men in front of him, much less in the damaged state he was in. But apparently, that hadn't been a good enough reason for him to be afraid and back down.

Midorima looked at his skeptical and wary expression and sighed. He was all too clear that their current method of squeezing out an answer from him was going to prove futile. They were running on limited time and this wasn't anywhere near helping to conserve it. Hence, pushing up his glasses, he reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a revolver, wrapping his fingers around it firmly as he stretched out his hand to aim it at the man in front, who instantly jerked back in shock.

"Shi- What are y-"

"Stop wasting our time. If I'm not mistaken – and I'm not – it's a simple question." He flicked the gun towards the boy. "His name. But judging from the circumstances, you'll probably not mind even if I were to kill you so," Midorima considered and paused for a second, before shifting the direction of the barrel slightly so it was aimed at the blue haired boy instead. "I'll kill him."

As predicted, the man's eyes widened as he quickly moved to place himself in between the gun and the boy, but again, Midorima beat him to it. "Don't even try. You really think your body is a strong enough shield against a bullet? I'll kill both of you." He gestured with his gun. Of course, both Takao and he knew that it was merely a fib to pry an answer out of the man. He wasn't about to kill the boy, not really. It was unreasonable, and his death might put their months of efforts into waste if he was really who they thought he was.

"So let's cut right into the chase. I'm only going to ask once more." He paused dramatically as he waited for a reply. The man in front of them breathed heavily, as he looked between him and the gun his hand was wrapped around. There was a short pause as he appeared to be weighing his options, before resignedly, he sighed. The evident caution in his eyes remained, as he opened his mouth to speak. "Kuroko."

Midorima released a hopeful breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, as he slowly lowered his gun and turned to look at Takao, who nodded in acknowledgement. They did hear right after all. If this boy was truly who they prayed he was, it would not only save a lot of hassle, but quite likely the sanity of the entire castle.

"Hey, you're probably not going to like this but, we're going to need to borrow him for a while." Takao added, stepping forward beside Midorima.

"What? Like hell you are."

There had already been a bunch of sighs exchanged by then and Takao did well to add to the number, already expecting that reaction from the man. Of course he wouldn't be willing to give the boy up after all the fight he's just put up to keep him safe. Midorima jerked his head toward the man, gesturing for Takao to solve the situation as this is getting annoying and I'm getting annoyed, which he immediately complied, moving forward and raising a quick hand that collided with the back of the man's neck, knocking him out before he even had the chance to retaliate.

They looked at the now two unconscious and beaten bodies lying by their feet, before at each other. They had to settle this once and for all. It had dragged on for too long and this was likely their last opportunity to. "Takao-"

"Yeah, I got it. Don't worry; I'll take care of things here. Go, they're probably biting their asses off waiting."

Midorima nodded without question, but only because he knew he could count on his partner. The years they spent together wasn't all for naught. He bent forward, lifting the other man away to the side as he crouched down, carefully picking Kuroko up bridal style - as the last thing he wanted was to cause any more harm to his already damaged body – before standing up and heading out the door.

He walked briskly down the gravel road in search of the nearest carriage which he decided, was the fastest mode of transport that would take them back to the castle. Running wasn't an option because of various reasons, one in particular being the likelihood that he may end up injuring the unconscious boy further with the vigorous movements of his body muscles. He glided swiftly across the stone path as he spotted a carriage belonging to his troupe not a few streets down, and yelled for it to halt.

As he got into the small space in the carriage, he placed the boy down with his head on his lap and knocked the top of the carriage using his fist, signaling for the carriage-man to go. Looking down at the sleeping boy, he let a glimmer of hope rise in his chest, despite the countless numerous times it had left him disappointed. He might be the final piece they needed to perfect their plan.

The entirety of their Clan had been in a relentless pursuit for "Kuroko" for almost a year, and they've long lost count of how many wrong ones they've found. A description of "blue-haired, wide eyed boy" and a name was given, with nothing else, to look for a kid in the endless ocean of humans around the globe. It wasn't going to be anywhere near an easy task, of course; it was like fishing for a needle in the entire goddamned sea. But still, no matter how bleak the chances were, Midorima felt he had to try, if not for the sake of the entire family, at least for Kise.

They went back and forth to the place Kise had specified to search, but the blue haired kid was nowhere to be found. It wasn't easy walking about town surrounded by a huge clique, or blending in with red hoods hung over all their heads, and much less strutting about and sticking their heads in the same houses more than a couple of times within a month. One would've thought they belonged to a satanic cult, which wasn't exactly far from the truth.

Naturally, after many, many failed attempts, they came to the conclusion that the boy had either moved, or lost the battle with his circumstances, which from the stories Kise kept repeating, was nothing short of harsh. Though the latter was more possible than not, his blonde friend had refused to believe it and insisted on continuing the search.

The Clan council was frustrated, of course, after seeing how things were playing out. They were being pulled around like puppets on a string by a considerably dimmer man, and they couldn't do crap about it.

The futile search for an ordinary boy was taking up manpower and time, and those weren't something they were willing to just hand over. But they hadn't had a choice to begin with. The strategy had ultimately come to wrap itself to depend largely on the Kise for its success. They couldn't do without his cooperation – something he refused to give without them accepting his terms.

They had been planning the grueling invasion for nearly nine years and everything up to a little more than a year ago, where they had finalized their strategy, had been planned out so impeccably, they didn't think it had any possible room for errors. Every nook and cranny of the plan was looked into, and any slightest crack found was eventually glued back into place with careful discussion and planning. Everything was beyond perfect, and their strategy ensured that the Town would fall under their control in less than a few days.

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Of course, they had failed to take into consideration of the errors the leaders might make themselves. He had been perfect in every action and course he took; hence no one even remotely considered the possibility of Kise rebelling at the very end.

Because in the summer of the previous year, Kise had finally cracked. In the middle of a presentation in front of the Council, he quite literally threw all the papers in his hands and stood up on the table, declaring that he would be resigning from his position as the army head. He had gathered almost every single one of the men in the Royal Head Army, pulling many out of their misery and giving them a purpose to live and fight for. They were loyal to the bone and thus, it was the sole position that the Council had little to no control over. It gave Kise a free pass and the ability to tear their plan into shreds.

Naturally, after his declaration, glasses were dropped and eyes were popped. But they couldn't exactly say prying a reason out of him was tough. After all, he was doing it all for the purpose of exchanging terms. He might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he wasn't an idiot. Kise knew how to get what he wanted and he had proven that he could tap on that knowledge. He was determined, and it was one of those rare decisions he made where not even Akashi could manage to talk him out of.

They were holding down Castle Amara as base - an abandoned castle where the ancient kings once resided in, but now, it was used as a storage house for the government. It was deserted, located at the top end of a large cliff, sealed off by oceans and an endless maze of thick forest. It was almost impregnable and not to mention quite humongous – it made the perfect place to set up the headquarters of a vampire clan.

Amara was located near the town the boy had lived in. When Kise found out, he went paler by the face. He had no intention of putting the kid in the path of any danger, much less sending an entire destructive vampire army down his street to round everyone up. Hence, under the duress and threat of disbanding the Head Army, the Council held a meeting (for formalities' sake, because power hungry bastards liked to upkeep an image) and a day after, Kise brought two hundred men out and they've been on the search ever since.

Midorima sighed heavily as he reached into his coat to pull out a pocket watch. The planned time for the Kise's army to head out was nearing. The council had his temporal cooperation as of the moment, but Midorima knew all too well that there was no way his cousin was going lead an army to fight a battle without ensuring the safety of someone he obviously cared too much about.

He tapped his foot impatiently as he looked at the passing scenery out the small window. There was no time to lose. The government called for backup, and it was already on its way. Their plan was destined to fail without Kise's inanely devoted army.

Midorima cared for him, no doubt, and wanted to find whatever happiness he could give Kise and throw it in his face. But he had to prioritize the plan. It was the only shot they had at escaping the vicious cycle of the slumps they were stuck in, and the disrespect they had been treated with for centuries because they weren't pumped with mortal blood.

Vampires were superior by nature, not humans, which the latter liked to claim. No matter how they liked to twist folklore, their species had been nothing but docile and kind for as long as they remembered. Dracula wasn't even a vampire; he was very much in fact, a human who ended more lives than their entire species had all together in their existence. The real monsters were the humans. They had pushed them too far over the edge, and sooner or later someone had to step up to protect them before they were all gone. Why they put up with so much humiliation for such a long time remained a constant irk on their minds they couldn't scratch away.

Despite the stories parents feed to their children, vampires had never wanted anything more than to live in cohesion with the rest of the world and its occupants, if nothing else, it was at least their basic right. Most of them could feed off livestock and live just fine. But the rare few whose taste strayed from the rest proved to be the ultimate cause for a long period of their distress, as they had forever implanted the impression on the minds of mortals that vampires were nothing more than mindless killing machines that mercilessly fed off the lives of humans.

Midorima didn't like that. He stood with the vampires and would do anything humanly, or well, vampire-ly, possible to reclaim the glory they deserved. Far too long had they been kicked into the darkness, forgotten about and hated, just on the basis of false rumors and tales that were never actually supported by concrete evidence. The time to take back what was theirs was now, and it was clear no one was going to back down this time round. He didn't hate humans, but he wasn't about to stand by and watch as an entire species get wiped out because of who they were. Contradictory, he knew. But what other choice was there?

The plan had mentioned that the innocent was to be spared. But then again, what was the definition of innocent? If it meant anyone who took the sides of vampires and never taking a part in the spread of rumors, every single human on this pitiful planet would be deemed guilty. It was the ultimate loophole that erased all future controversies, doubts and guilt of the massive manslaughter that he knew was eventually going to happen. But he kept quiet.

It was all too complicated, and it hurt his head to think about. There were too many moral dilemmas involved, and much more unanswered questions and promises. Midorima wasn't too fond of the strategy, but he trusted and was more than willing to stick by Akashi, who might as well had masterminded the entire plot - and lord knows Akashi's plans never fails.

He clucked his tongue in annoyance and impatience. There was at least a mile before they reached Amara. He turned his attention to his lap, where their last hope remained deathly still.

It didn't matter anymore. It was too late for any regrets. This boy could be their last shot at reviving their plan. So whatever happened today, failure or success, it was going to be all on him.

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The minute hand ticked almost mockingly, as Midorima closed his pocket watch and rushed to get out of the carriage with the injured boy in his arms. They had reached Amara, after a long, dreadful fifteen minutes. He paused, considering the circumstances, before turning back around and with one foot already out on the ground, he placed the boy back on the seat, taking the red cloak off his back before covering him with it. It was just for caution. He was still a human, and you'd never know when a vampire would go rouge. The last thing he needed was for Kise to walk in on one sucking the life out of his precious Kuroko.

Midorima lifted the blue haired boy up again onto his steady arms, and took care to watch his step as he rushed past the large foyer, through the busy hall and up the spiral staircase, all the while pushing past maidens with unnecessary large handkerchiefs and soldiers who bowed lower than ninety degrees.

Kise was probably in the drawing area, where he predicted, would still be moping about in self-pity and refusing to compromise to anything.

He gripped the boy tighter, as he reached the final step of the stairs and started a brisk walk down the hallway towards the large door at the end. The kid's left arm hung loosely by his side, swaying with each movement, and Midorima would've taken the effort to place them on his chest - if only he had the time. Though his face wasn't the best possible sight he could've offered to Kise – considering Takao had broken his nose, that was expelling out blood like a goddamned spring fountain, and probably several other bones within his body -, he knew it wasn't important. The boy was still alive and that was all that mattered. He hoped.

He silently thanked his stars as he finally reached the door in the long hallway. With a slight pant, he freed an arm and flung the heavy wooden door open.

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Midorima slammed his palm on the wooden door, forcefully pushing it wide open as he made his grand entrance. Just as predicted, Kise was sat on the velvet cushioned chair, with his head buried behind his hands. There was a servant standing beside him, and on the opposite chair sat an anxious War Minister. A cup of coffee was situated, untouched, in front of Kise, with a pile of unkempt papers covering a large section of the table surface.

His hair was disheveled, stray strands sticking out in ten directions like they'd been run through many times in frustration, which was probably the case. He had on a long white cotton shirt with a brown vest over the length of his torso, the arm guards had been kicked aside to the corner and his signature blue frock coat was hung over the back of the chair, forgotten. The clothes were probably the only portion on him that was possible to keep presentable - impeccably ironed out with the absence of any creases. The servants could only do so much to keep their prince looking decent when he stuck with rebellion. It looked out of place on him, and if he dared say, possibly even a little strange. The stark contrast between his ghastly physical appearance and his immaculate attire was hard to miss.

Kise's face was hidden behind the mess of yellow hair falling over. He was nervous. An internal sigh surfaced within Midorima, as his gaze travelled to the unsigned pieces of documents settled beside the tepid drink. The strategy was going to remain stagnant, and it couldn't move forward if that miserable piece of paper didn't have his signature on it.

He opened his mouth as he entered the large quarters, preparing to address his presence, but Kise beat him to it, his blonde head shooting up so quickly that the intangible action was able to cut his words off before they had a chance to leave his mouth.

Midorima met his dead eyes, as his hands left his face and settled on his lap. He looked like he was at a complete loss. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but it pained him to see Kise like that. He wasn't usually like this - in fact, almost never. His eyes used to pour out all the joys of the world and his mannerisms reflected the definition of a man carrying no worries at all. It had been like that for almost eight years until a little bit of everything had happened, and since a year ago, he hadn't been the same. Even though most knew his sullen change was likely temporal, it still dampened the overall mood of the entire Clan because the blonde haired man had been such a large source of their joy for a bloody good long time that the sudden loss of that source had draped a cold blanket over many of them. After all, who could be happy when their kind and favored prince wasn't?

Midorima looked at the present Kise and for a moment, he felt awful for him, and if not, possibly even a little concerned. It was disturbing how much of a drastic change he had undergone for the worry of a boy that was more or less a stranger to him. No one in their clan had seen him react to something for someone so violently before. Everyone had grown accustomed to his carefree attitude towards life, unconcerned and optimistic about issues that everybody would be tearing their hair out thinking about. It was ridiculous, his 180 degree turn in behavior. It wasn't all that far-fetched to say his concern was to the point of almost unnatural obsession.

The boy was his savior, he claimed. He couldn't lose the light.

Not going to lie, but Midorima had cringed the first time he heard his cousin say that. Still, despite the countless times Kise had (subsequently) repeated the sentence - that was supposedly to serve as explanation for his odd behavior - , little to none understood what he meant. Was it a metaphor? Could it be a code? A prophecy, perhaps?

But no matter the topic of debate, there was one thing everyone could agree on, and it was that they wanted their jovial prince back. They wanted to see him smile again, just like he used to everyday. They wanted to bring the same joy back into his life, just like he did to theirs. And because of that, it wasn't all that hard to persuade people to join the search.

"Kise, I think I've -"

Midorima began, but he was cut off when the former man jolted straight up out of his seat. At first, he was taken aback by Kise's sudden outburst of movement, but as soon as he followed his line of sight, it wasn't much of a surprise anymore. The blonde was staring wide eyed at the covered figure in his arms, looking more alive than he's seen him in a while. His heart quickened. Please, for the love of what little remaining hair on their people that haven't been torn out yet, let this boy be who he was looking for.

Kise walked forward slowly, but it soon picked up pace as he reached in front of him. He paused, as he opened his mouth to speak, and then clamping it shut right after, as if considering his next words, with eyes that reflected innocent hope. He stretched out his arm, pointing at the covered figure; "Midorima, did you - is-" He began tentatively, eyes never leaving their focus.

Midorima shook his head slowly as his mouth went dry, "I don't know."

He swallowed. "Can I..." His voice was soft, filled with uncertainty yet the few words he uttered managed to carry so much hope, that for once, Midorima's heart ached. Despite the countless times he was met with disappointment, Kise had never lost a single shred of hope and it was almost heartwarming to witness his determination.

After a heavy, long pause, he extended a firm arm, taking in a deep calming breath before tugging the red velvet fabric away from the boy's face. There was palpable tension in the room and it felt like everyone and everything had stood completely still for a moment as they waited for a solid reaction from Kise. The Minister was staring intently at his expression, with a single beaded sweat rolling past his forehead, waiting to catch any flicker of emotion that would escape and the servant stood where she was, at a respectful distance, with anticipation written all over her features as she peered over. The atmosphere was loaded with hope, but all for different reasons.

At first there was silence. Kise's visage remained neutral as he took in the appearance of the uncovered boy. Midorima felt his shoulders beginning to stiffen as irritation started to rise. He had probably found the wrong person again. This was the end. Their plan was rolling downhill to its grave and the only brakes it had was lost.

But then all at once, Kise emitted a strange strangled sound from his throat, his free hand clapping over his mouth and he clutched tighter onto the fabric as they began to develop a slight shake. Midorima blinked in astonishment. Certainly, that hadn't been the reaction he was expecting. Surely he couldn't have been that disheartened to the point of a seizure?

But before he could say anything, Kise's eyes shot up from where they were fixated on the boy in his arms, and looked straight into his green ones. Midorima had to take a moment and his breath stopped in their flow, as he realized that the emotions flooding within the eyes of the blonde man weren't ones that could be categorized under deject. It was joy.

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A/N:

Oh my god, this was a full blown descriptive chapter, wasn't it? I wanted to include in more action but I felt I had to explain the concept of the "plan" and some early occurrences first, or the story wouldn't flow too well later!

Remember to leave a review if you like the story so far! Don't be afraid to leave (constructive) criticisms and opinions!

Thank you if you've made it this far and for reading my story.