Solitaire Beasts Chapter 11, a prince of tennis fanfic

Beta: EternalAngel

A/N: Say bye bye to Ryoma. At least for the next four chapters that are all about Atobe, and how he became to be what he is.
Comments and critique appreciated.

Atobe had not stayed to listen what else Sanada had to say, after hearing his warning, but rushed to find Ryoma. He had not found the boy or Fuji where he had last seen them, and there had not been any trace of Yanagi or Kirihara anywhere.

For a moment he had worried that Yanagi had killed them, following Sanada's orders and his mind lashed out fervently, searching for the boy. And he nearly fell to his knees with relief when he found the boy's mind, a whirlwind of conflicted emotions and chaotic thoughts.

He rushed towards the presence of the boy's physical body, the call of his blood, his pulsing heart and forced himself to stay away when he found the boy standing with the mortals that had been sent to protect him. He stayed behind them, watched, and grew angrier with every second. Fuji did not even try to hide the sudden fondness and fascination he now held towards the boy. Atobe doubted Fuji realized he was watching. Fuji was reckless, but not to this extent. He would not be so open with his affections if he knew Atobe was watching.

He doubted this was what Sanada had meant, but that did not matter now. Fuji himself had warned Atobe, but he had ignored it, so sure that his power was enough to keep Fuji in line. But he had forgotten Fuji never followed any rules, not even the ones he set on himself. Forgotten that Fuji liked dancing on the edge of the blade. The man took nearly as much pleasure in defying Atobe as he did in devouring the blood of his victims. It was a miracle he had survived as long as he had with his habit of annoying beings more powerful than he was.

Then again, perhaps it wasn't such a miracle after all. The only creature ruthless enough to slit Fuji's throat simply for misspeaking no longer existed. Others, powerful as they were, did not like to destroy their own kind. Atobe's slaughter of the two in his territory must have been a shock to most. It was not something that was done; killing your own, feeding of them.

Vampires had become almost domesticated during the centuries. Blood of an immortal was more valued than it once was. A vampire, even a young one, hardly had to fear death from any creature, the only force that threatened their existence was the sun. The daylight and exposure to humans. Those were the things that frightened vampires.

It had not always been so. Atobe remembered a time when younger ones had trembled in his presence in the same manner that Kaidoh had. That he'd had the sense to fear for his life told Atobe that his master had been someone who had experienced fear for his immortal life. It raised an interesting question where Tezuka had learned such fear from. Fuji had been too in love with the man to do anything other than purr at his side. If he had wanted, Tezuka could have turned Fuji into a slave. It was Fuji's luck Tezuka had too much honour to do anything like that. Atobe would not have hesitated if Fuji had been so taken by him.

"If you wish to know who taught Tezuka to fear those stronger than him, I can tell you." Sanada came to stand between him, and the group of four Atobe had been observing. "Come with me, and I will tell you all you wish to know."

Atobe nearly snarled and tried to move past him, but Sanada's hand on his arm prevented him from moving. "A few hours, Keigo, that is all I ask."

Atobe pulled his arm from Sanada's grip to look past him at Fuji, still holding Ryoma's hand and gazing at the boy gently. The anger he felt towards Fuji was so strong he feared it might burn him, and knew that if he went to them now, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from destroying Fuji, not even when there were so many humans here.

"You wish us to share fond memories of the past, Sanada?" Atobe asked, refusing to use his first name as Sanada had. They no longer shared intimacy that allowed it. And even when they had, it had been shadowed by the presence and the will of someone else, who Sanada could never allow himself to let go of.

"There were fond memories, even if you are determined not to admit it."

Atobe laughed bitterly. "Fond memories, Sanada? For you and him perhaps. For me, when you arrived was when I learned you do not need to die to reach hell."

1788

England

Sanada pulled on the reins of his horse, stopping on the hill from where he could see the house. Built on a valley, surrounded by green grass and tall trees, the house was like an image from a sweet dream. The light of the moon reflecting from the glass in the large windows shone brightly, sparkling like candlelight reflecting on the surface of a diamond. He had heard tell how its white walls shone in the golden sunlight, and suddenly wished to witness the sight with his own eyes, to see it in some other light than that of the moon's cold silver.

Another rider stopped beside him, to behold the sight, and Sanada spoke to him, not taking his eyes from the house."Lord Atobe will no doubt wish to become acquainted with us, as we will be his lodgers. They speak of him with great respect. It will not be easy to deceive him."

"We will be careful. There will be no need for him to be suspicious," the man next to him answered, and pulled down the hood of his cloak, eyes on the valley Sanada had been watching, the light of the moon falling on a face that held beauty for which even angels would have been jealous of. "The location is perfect, far from other settlements. We will not find another place as secluded as this. We need time. I need time, for my body to heal from the damage the fire caused."

"And Kirihara? Is it wise to leave him?" Sanada asked.

"Yanagi will watch him." The man turned, revealing the left side of his face. Angry red burns covered the skin that had once been as smooth and white as ivory, and Sanada looked away, saddened that his master had to suffer because he had not been there to protect him. "It was not your fault. I sent you away myself."

"I should have known, listened more to what the villagers spoke of us, known what they were planning." Sanada bent his head in shame. "It is too dangerous. Your safety lies in the hands of this man."

"You worry over nothing." The man turned his horse from the valley. "The payment of our lodging has been taken care of for six months in advance. If he should come visit, we will simply not be there. An eccentric man, and his servant, that is how he will think of us. Curious as he might be, he will soon forget we even existed."

The young Earl of Atobe finished his meal, rose from the dinner table he sat alone in, and walked across the room and through the large double doors that stood open, stepping inside the entrance hall. He turned his head sharply, and as a result the black ribbon that had been used to tie his hair back flew into his mouth. Hoping no one was watching, he spat the fabric from his mouth, and continued his stride towards a small table at the centre of the hall that held a silver tray with an envelope on it.

With a small, pleased smile on his lips he picked up the envelope and tore it open. But the smile on his face soon disappeared as he read, and a frown appeared on his forehead. He sneered, threw the letter back on the tray, and yelled, "Kabaji!"

"Usu." A man, tall enough to tower over most men, appeared in the hall.

"I'm going to visit my neighbour! Take out my riding boots!" Atobe ordered. "And have someone ready my horse!"

"Usu." Kabaji bowed, and climbed up the stairs to where his master's bedroom was located.

After being left alone, Atobe glared at the letter, before picking it up again, and reading it more thoroughly this time. It was a letter from one of his cousins, asking for money. "Gambling, no doubt," Atobe muttered, and found his guess to be correct, as he read further. The temptation to not pay was great, but the shame of having one of his relations in jail because of debt was far greater than his desire to teach the idiot he was not made of gold.

But that was not the real reason for his irritation. No, it was because for two weeks now he had waited for a letter from someone else, from a Mister Yukimura. It did not need to be a terrible long letter, or even the invitation he had first expected to receive when hearing the people that had rented the cottage had arrived. Just a small note, to prove that this Yukimura was not completely without manners. He was entitled to some courtesy from the person he had allowed to live in the house where his grandmother had spent the remainder of her life.

Atobe considered himself a patient and gracious man, but this was beyond insulting.

"Hiyoshi!" Atobe yelled, heading towards the stairs.

"Yes, My Lord?" The monotone voice of his steward asked from the opposite side of the hall, and Atobe swirled around.

"Still no word from the man staying at the cottage?"

"No My Lord, not since the letter in which he told us he would not need a cook, or servants, other than the girl who cleans the house weekly." Hiyoshi answered, and walked across the hall to his lord with a folder filled with papers. "There are urgent matters that require your attention, My Lord."

"I will see to them tonight," Atobe said, and made his way to the stairs that led to the second floor.

Atobe missed the look of burning contempt his steward directed at his back, but had he noticed, he would not have cared. It was no secret to anyone that Hiyoshi despised Atobe, and neither was the reason for that contempt.

Hiyoshi and Atobe shared a father, but not a mother. While Atobe's mother had been the Earl's wife, Hiyoshi's mother had been a peasant girl from the village; one who did not have the wit, or the courage to deny the lord access to her bed.

If Hiyoshi's mother had lived, and not died when the boy was three, who knew what his life would have been like. Perhaps the Earl would have been gracious enough to pay for his son's education, or he might have ended up cleaning the stables of another lord, or those of his brother. But Hiyoshi's mother had died, and on her death bed she had demanded of the priest present that he not allow the Earl to shun his son, but take him to his house and care for him, or her spirit would haunt them both.

The Earl had followed the woman's wishes, taken the boy unto his care, but had never acknowledged the boy as his son, and it was only from the servants' whispers that Hiyoshi learned the truth of his father.

There were times when Hiyoshi cursed his mother for her dying wish. Every day of the boy's life in the large house had been filled with uncertainty. He did not fit in anywhere, not when he slept and ate with the servants, but studied with the Earl's son. His brother never bothered to even speak with him, and the other children were too aware of how the adults treated him; like an odd animal that you did not know what to do with.

When the old Earl finally died, leaving the title and fortune to his legitimate son, Keigo, and Hiyoshi was offered the position of a steward in the Atobe household he took it, knowing nothing else that he could do that would bring food to his table, and clothes on his back.

The Atobe household was large; larger than was required to take care of a country house, but the Atobes had always been fond of showing of their wealth. As a steward Hiyoshi was responsible for the entire estate, the fields, the horses, the servants. He was fond of that power, knowing that left to his own devices his brother could never have handled the affairs of the large estate.

But not a day went by that he did not wish to be called Lord in his brother's stead.

"Shishidoooo!!!"

Shishido stuck out his foot, and the kid that came running through the stable doors tripped and fell on the soft and muddy ground of the stables. The fall didn't affect the kid's enthusiasm, and he was soon standing up, grinning from ear to ear.

"Lord Atobe wants his horse!" The voice was loud, and Shishido grimaced. It was hard to believe Kintaro was only a few years younger than him, already eighteen, and not a twelve year old kid.

"Then you better take the horse to him," Shishido said, pointing at the already saddled horse in the middle of the stable, still leaning against the wall with his ankles and arms crossed, his long hair stuffed under a brown cap.

With one last grin at him, Kintaro ran to the horse that took a few steps back from the energetic boy. But when Kintaro patted the horse, it settled. Like the other horses, Atobe's white mare liked the boy, and he was the only one that could get even a stampede horse to settle with just a few words. If Kintaro had been a little less hyper, he might have been the head groom instead of Shishido.

And there were times Shishido felt insecure, because of Kintaro's abilities with the horses, so he did these… test runs.

He watched Kintaro lead the horse to Atobe, and grinned when he saw Atobe's eyes widen before Kintaro's wide smile, and endless chatter. The kid patted the white mare, and Shishido guessed he was telling Atobe about what the horse had been eating, and how it'd been acting, and what it was feeling right now. He knew both well enough to know what Kintaro said, and what Atobe was thinking.

Atobe finally succeeded in taking the reins from the eager groom, and getting on the horse. He rode to where Shishido had moved to stand, just outside the wide stable doors. Atobe bent down to speak in a low tone. "You keep praising his talents with the horses, but are you sure, you couldn't just…" Atobe waved his hand, "get rid of him?"

Shishido fought to keep the satisfied grin from his face. No, there was never going to be any threat of him losing his position to Kintaro. "He's invaluable," Shishido said.

Atobe eyed him suspiciously. "Why do I suspect you are only saying that to annoy me?"

"I would never do that, My Lord," Shishido answered.

"Ahn? You've done worse," Atobe replied, a playful glint in his eyes, behind the frown. It reminded Shishido of the past, when both him and Atobe had been children. "Don't think I've forgotten who was really responsible for convincing the maids that the attic is haunted."

"Neither have I, My Lord," Shishido said, remembering very clearly how he and Atobe had torn the sheets, wandered the hallways in the middle of the night, and waited for someone to see them in their ghostly costumes.

"Shishido!"

Both Atobe and Shishido turned to look at where the shout had come from, and saw a silver haired boy walking towards them, hand waving, and a cheerful smile on his face.

Atobe straightened his back, frowning at the still distant figure. "There's a stallion at Hardgraves I want you to take a look at. I'm considering on purchasing it," he said, and was gone before Shishido even had an answer for him.

Ohtori reached Shishido, and when his friend did not turn to smile at him like he usually did, but stared after Atobe, Ohtori placed a hand on Shishido's shoulder and asked, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Ohtori," Shishido mumbled. "It's just that, for a moment, it was almost like we were kids again."

"You were friends with Lord Atobe, weren't you?" Ohtori asked, smiling.

Shishido shrugged. "That was before his mother died, and he moved to London. When he came back as the Earl after his father passed away… Well, he was the Lord then."

Ohtori turned his eyes to the road, where he could still see Atobe on his horse. "I don't think he likes me very much," he said.

Shishido looked at Ohtori, pursing his lips together. "Does it matter?" he finally asked. "All you have to worry about is making sure the garden looks great."

"You make it sound like I'm responsible for the whole garden, but I'm just one of the gardeners," Ohtori said, shifting his feet, and looking at the ground between them.

"Well you do most of the work. Even the old man's been telling everyone how you'll be in charge of the garden when he retires." Shishido said, encouraging his friend.

Ohtori shrugged, not looking up. "Maybe, if things were different, but…"

"But what?" Shishido asked.

"Hiyoshi told me that… He's talked about it with Lord Atobe, and he isn't for it."

"You're not listening to Hiyoshi, are you?" Shishido shouted. "He isn't the Earl, no matter how much he wants to be."

"It might be better if he was," Ohtori muttered.

"Ohtori," Shishido hissed, and quickly looked around them to make sure no one had heard. He glared at one of the stable boys lurking near, grabbed Ohtori by the elbow and dragged him behind the stables where he knew no one could hear them. "You shouldn't say things like that. Atobe could get rid off you if someone tells him what you said."

"I know," Ohtori whispered, looking embarrassed. "It's just that… Lord Atobe has made it clear he doesn't like me, and Hiyoshi is the only one willing to be helpful."

Shishido breathed deeply and took off his hat so he could run his fingers through the long hair. "I don't know what to tell you," he said. "The fact is Hiyoshi's never going to be Earl. He's Atobe's half brother, sure, but he's a bastard. If Atobe dies without an heir, his cousin's gonna inherit everything, and we'll all be working for him."

"I just don't understand why he doesn't like me." Ohtori looked at his friend with a miserable face.

Shishido sighed, wanting to say something that would make Ohtori feel better, but couldn't think of anything. The truth was, he'd noticed it too, but didn't understand why Atobe disliked Ohtori so much. In Shishido's view there wasn't anyone more likeable than Ohtori, who was always cheerful, and kind to everyone.

Atobe stopped his horse, and turned to glare at the magnificent garden he knew would not be the amazing sight it was, without Ohtori. He hated it, hated himself for being so obvious. It was pathetic to envy a servant and his life, when he had more than Ohtori could ever have.

Growing up in the country without other siblings had made it difficult for him to find friends. There were no other families of their station that had children of his age, and the villagers and their children never forgot who he was; the Earl's son. But there had been one boy who had never really cared about that.

One of Atobe's first memories was about Shishido, and the stench of horse's dung.

Atobe had demanded that Shishido, who was just a groom's boy, would fetch him his pony. After some more name-calling from both, Shishido had punched Atobe, sending him head first into a pile of horse's dung. Atobe hadn't taken it very gracefully, but flung a fistful of the same substance he had been forced to bathe his face in at Shishido, and that had started a dung war between them.

At the end of it, when both had gotten a spanking from Shishido's father, they were inseparable. Together they had raided the kitchen for sweets, torn white sheets to play ghosts in the dark hallways at night, and painted moustaches on the faces of Atobe's ancestors whose portraits hung in the gallery. Almost everything they did together ended with neither of them being able to sit on a chair for a few days.

When Atobe turned fifteen, his mother died, and Atobe's father decided he could no longer live in the country house that was full of memories of her, so he moved them to London.

The marriage between Atobe's father and mother had never been a marriage of great love, but it had been a marriage that worked, even despite the Earl's obvious infidelity, of which Hiyoshi was undeniable proof, and whose presence in the house was a constant reminder and an insult to Atobe's mother. The fact that Atobe's father grieved so deeply for her wife, was something Atobe found unbelievable and he spent the first year after her death resenting his father, convinced he was a hypocrite. He never bothered to wonder why her death meant so little to him. He never thought a mother should be something more than a pretty woman who smelled nice, and gave you a kiss on the cheek when you'd done well.

Atobe's father died two years after his wife, making his son the new Earl of Atobe at the age of seventeen. After speaking with his family's lawyer, and his uncle that had been appointed as Atobe's guardian until he was of age, Atobe decided to stay in London. When he received news that the steward that had handled the country house and the estate had died, on a whim, Atobe wrote to Hiyoshi, asking if he would like to take on the position that had been left vacant. He had never expected Hiyoshi to accept.

Another year passed, and Atobe began missing the house in which he had grown up, its white walls, high windows, bright corridors, and the green fields beyond the garden that surrounded the house. With only his valet Kabaji, - whom he'd acquired in London - Atobe left for home. He hadn't bothered to write in advance, to inform Hiyoshi of his arrival, didn't think it necessary, and perhaps a part of him wanted to surprise the steward, to make sure if he was doing his job as well as the letters Atobe had received seemed to indicate.

He had ridden to the house, and marvelled how little it differed from the one that existed in his memories. The white house bathed in the golden sunlight, and when he had stopped his horse in front of the stable, a groom had immediately appeared to take the reins, bowed when he'd stepped down, and murmured respectfully, "Welcome home, Lord Atobe."

It was not until he had stood at the front door, that he had looked back, and recognized the long haired groom as his childhood friend Shishido. For a moment, he felt a desire to turn back and clasp hands with the boy, but then Hiyoshi had appeared before him, looking as grim as always, and presented him with a pile of papers that needed to be signed. He had forgotten about Shishido, and probably would have never thought of him again, were it not for Ohtori.

Seeing the two together, laughing and joking, remembering how it was him that had been laughing with Shishido, turned him into a spoiled brat that wanted back the toy he'd given up when he saw someone else having fun with it. He'd even gone as far as to contemplate firing Ohtori, but realized his foolishness just before calling for Hiyoshi.

The mare threw its head back, and Atobe patted it, trying to calm the animal, but had no luck. It was restless. Was it because it sensed Atobe's grim mood, or because it had been a few days since Atobe had ridden her, he could not know. But the thought of galloping through the meadows and hills to where the cottage was appealed to him, so Atobe pressed his heels against the mare's sides, leaned forward, and soon they were galloping down the hill.

The speed in which they moved made his eyes water, and deafened him to all other sounds but the swishing of the wind in his ears. It emptied his mind of the dark thoughts, and he inhaled deeply in the fresh, already crisp air, realising night was not far. He had waited too long, to go visit his new neighbour. The man might think him odd, for coming with the dusk. Still, turning back never occurred to him. He had decided that tonight he would meet the man living in the cottage. Two weeks was enough time to let him settle.

Reaching the top of yet another hill, Atobe slowed the mare's gallop to a trot, and paused to look at the house, smaller than the one he lived in, but still too large to be accurately called as a cottage.

There was no smoke coming from the two chimneys that stood on the dark roof, and no light shone in the high windows. From afar the house looked like no one had stepped through its doors for years, but Atobe was not discouraged by the lack of visible signs of life. It only made him more curious, and he wanted to know who would live in a dark and cold house, when they could bask in the warmth of blazing fires.

He dismounted, and walked his horse towards the building, narrowing his eyes at the windows. It was nearly dark now, he would be able to see even the smallest flicker of light coming from inside, but his gaze met nothing but darkness.

His mare moved restlessly, stepping back and Atobe, not paying attention, lost his hold on the reins, and the horse backed from the house, eyes dancing wildly on its head. Atobe stared at the mare, and then at the house, wondering if someone was hiding in the shadows and had scared the animal. He walked to her side, and patted her, speaking in a calming tone. "Nothing there I can't handle, calm down." He took hold of the reins again, and walked the mare farther from the house. The animal calmed with every step that grew the distance between them and the house.

"Probably hounds," Atobe murmured, knowing the mare had never liked dogs. Yukimura must own them, and their stench had frightened the mare. He let his eyes wander, and smiled when he saw the old tree he had nearly forgotten. It had been his favourite climbing tree, and the place where he had spent most of the time he should have spent keeping his grandmother company. But she had never had any patience for children, and was happy to let Atobe hang from trees, or run freely in the large back garden.

Atobe led the mare to the tree that was far enough from the house, that whatever it was about the house that made her restless didn't bother the animal, and tied the reins in to a large branch. After one last pat on the horse's neck, he left her and approached the house.

He walked up the few steps leading to the front door, knocked and waited for someone to greet him. When no one came, he stepped back to peer through the windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of something. But there was no change, no light or shadows moving inside the house.

Atobe frowned, but instead of returning to his horse, he headed for the back garden. If he would not be allowed to satisfy his curiosity concerning the people in the house, he would see how badly the garden had deteriorated. He doubted anyone had cared for it while the house had stood empty, and wondered if he should have done something about it, before letting people stay there.

But the garden that his eyes came to rest on was nothing he had expected to see. Nothing compared to the beauty he saw each morning from his breakfast table, but still beautiful. He closed his eyes and breathed in, amazed by the calm that came over him, from the flowers scent and the crisp night air, the smell of grass and dirt. He opened his eyes again and let the sereneness he felt become apparent in the smile that spread on his face. He had thought to see a wild, un-kept garden, not this harmony of shapes and colours that eased his mind.

A shiver ran down his back and shuttering, he turned to look behind him, but not even the long grass in the distant meadow moved. He must have imagined the wind, even the clouds stood still, softening the light of the moon so instead of cold silver light, everything was shaded in rich blue.

A sudden ray of golden candle light shone at the window behind him, and Atobe turned to look back at the house, only to turn away from it again when a soft voice spoke from behind him. "Lord Atobe?"

He gazed at the slim figure, the face shadowed by the hood of the dark cloak pulled back to reveal a dark coat, trousers, and riding boots, similar to those he wore, but of a darker leather. The voice would have fitted both a woman and a man, and so would have the lean build, but the way he held himself, Atobe had no doubt this was a young man standing before him.

"Mister Yukimura?" Atobe asked, after nodding.

"Please, call me simply Yukimura, Lord Atobe," the man said, with a small chuckle, and raised his hand up to his hood. Atobe expected to see the gentle smile he so clearly heard from the voice, but instead, the man pulled the cloak down to cover more of his face. "Please forgive me, but I have been in an accident and my face… I do not wish for anyone to see me as I am." Atobe frowned, and nearly argued. "That is one of the reasons we chose this place. The solitude."

The hint wasn't subtle, but Atobe merely shrugged. He had no qualms about disturbing Yukimura's privacy. This situation could have been avoided if Yukimura had written a simple, courteous letter. "The garden looks even better than what it was when my grandmother lived here. Your servant is quite capable in tending it?" he asked, instead, and heard another warm laugh from the man.

"Oh no, Sanada does not tend to the garden, his duties are… somewhat more demanding." The man turned his back on Atobe and stepped deeper in to the garden, almost disappearing amongst the shadows with his dark cloak.

"Then someone else has taken care of it?" Atobe asked while following the man, eyes on the dark fabric, hoping the man would not vanish from his sight.

"One of your gardeners. He comes every night, sometimes stays after night fall." Yukimura finally stopped, and kneeled beside a flower bed that held white lilies. Yukimura extended a hand, and touched one of the petals with his finger, and Atobe noticed the similarity of the skin, and that of the lily. Both pearly white, flawlessly beautiful and pale. He knew what it felt to touch the pedal of a lily, felt a fleeting desire to know if Yukimura's skin would be as silky and soft under his touch. "His ability to make the garden flourish is truly remarkable. You must be glad to have him."

"Yes," Atobe answered, before he even realized what Yukimura had said. "Wait, who are you speaking of?"

"Young Ohtori," Yukimura said. "He was not here tonight. I hope he is alright. It would be unfortunate if something were to happen to him."

"No, he is fine," Atobe spoke, gritting his teeth, a part of him hoping something had happened to Ohtori. Why was everyone so taken by Ohtori? "You are pleased with him, then?" Atobe asked, deciding to pretend he had known of this the whole time. It made sense, to have someone take care of the garden here. There was no reason why Hiyoshi should have told him of it, no reason why it should even matter.

"I can think of no one better suited." Yukimura stood up and walked past Atobe, towards the house. "But is that really why you came, lord Atobe? To ask if we are satisfied with our gardener?" He asked, voice soft, amused, and Atobe frowned. The man's voice held certainty that suggested his comment was a result of something more than just a simple guess. "It appears that Sanada has lighted the candles."

Atobe turned to look at the house and to his astonishment saw golden light stream from every single window of the house. He had not had his back turned at the house for more than a few moments, how could a single man have done all that in so little time? "Sanada is your servant?" he asked to hide his puzzlement.

"He is that, and something more," Yukimura replied mysteriously, not bothering to elaborate on the statement. "Would you honour me with your company as I indulge myself in a glass of wine, lord Atobe?" Yukimura gestured towards the back entrance of the house with his hand, and once again Atobe was struck by the paleness of the skin.

Atobe looked at the house, frowning more deeply as memories of the time he had spent there emerged from his mind. Very few of those memories were the kind that he looked back on with fondness, or even with any feeling stronger than dullness. His grandmother had never held a strong part in his life, and much like his mother, she had only been someone who was there, no one he felt much love or fondness for.

With nothing to repel him against the house, he wondered at the hesitance he felt about accepting Yukimura's invitation. Had this not been his intention from the very beginning? To come to know this man?

"Perhaps another time. It is late, I should be returning home," he finally told Yukimura.

"A shame. I hope you will find the time to join me some other evening." Yukimura drew the cloak tighter around him, and shivered slightly, making Atobe feel the chill of the air.

"Perhaps tomorrow?" Atobe asked, surprised by himself, that he had suggested it. But Yukimura intrigued him, with his comments that held not much meaning, but seemed to hide more behind them.

"I shall be here," Yukimura said, and turned his head so the moon shone on his face, revealing a patch of perfect, white skin, the curve of a delicate chin, and a corner of his lips, tilted upwards in a smile. It contradicted Yukimura's claim that his face was anything other than perfect. Atobe could not see a fault in the part that the moonlight revealed. "But daylight does not suit my mood, it is too bright, and its harshness too revealing. I enjoy the gentle light of the candles and that of the moon, when it shines like this, softly through the shroud of clouds."

"I will remember that," Atobe said, hesitated, but then added, "Yukimura." It was strange, to call this man simply by his name. It was almost impossible to believe that Yukimura held no title to his name.

The backdoor of the house opened, and Atobe saw a man silhouetted in the doorway. Yukimura glimpsed at the figure briefly, before turning to face Atobe again. "Will you not reconsider joining me?" he asked, voice more beckoning than before. "It is not even past midnight, and the moon is full tonight. You will not have trouble finding your way home later."

"I would not have trouble finding my way home even in the darkest of nights," Atobe replied, knowing he had already accepted. "But my horse…" he spoke, remembering the mare, strapped on to the tree.

"You worry for your mount? Sanada will see to him."

"Her," Atobe corrected Yukimura. "She was spooked by something in the house, and I had to leave her tied to a tree, farther away."

Yukimura turned to the house once again, and the man in the doorway stepped inside the house, disappearing, presumable to take care of Atobe's mare. "She was frightened?"

"Yes. I thought that perhaps you have dogs. She has never liked their smell."

Yukimura shook his head. "No, I find myself too enthralled by humans to have time for other animals."

Atobe found it a strange way to say it, as if Yukimura did not consider himself to be human. "People can be fascinating at times," he agreed, nonetheless.

When a wind caught hold of the cloak wrapped around Yukimura's figure, he shivered, and took hold of the hood to make sure it was not thrown from his face. "We should continue this conversation indoors, lord Atobe. Sanada has no doubt prepared a warm fire in front of which we may sit and enjoy the wine." Yukimura followed his own suggestion and climbed the few stairs leading to the door, still open.

Atobe glanced at the darkened sky once more, wondering briefly if this was wise. He knew nothing of Yukimura, or of his servant. Nothing to suggest they were trustworthy. But he had told people where he was going, and it would not hurt to ease that little fact into the conversation.

The wine was sweet, the fire warm, and Yukimura's presence, his gentle, coaxing voice, and alluring laughter more intoxicating than the wine in his glass, which Yukimura kept filling to the brim each time Atobe set it down on the table, with only half of its contents consumed. The wine, the warmth of the company and the fire embraced him with their lure, and he felt content and relaxed, more so than he had for a long time.

There were instances during the night, when he wished to lean forward, and pull down the hood covering Yukimura's face. It was more than mere curiosity, Atobe realised soon. His desire to see Yukimura's face was there because he wanted to know more of Yukimura. The man's voice, his gestures, everything about him intrigued Atobe, made him want to know more, to know him fully.

It did not matter that he had known Yukimura only a few hours, that he might never see him again. What Atobe wanted, was that Yukimura would always remember him, that he would be remembered, that his presence would be the one that would always stay in Yukimura's mind, not the other way around. He was fascinated by Yukimura, and wanted Yukimura to be fascinated by him.

"You refused my offer to provide you with a staff," Atobe said, glancing to his right, where the man Yukimura had named as Sanada stood. He had appeared at the doorway soon after Atobe and Yukimura had sat down before the fire, and had not moved from the place since then. The light did not reach the man, and his face remained in the shadows, much in the same way Yukimura's did. "Is your servant so capable that he can provide for everything you need?"

"There isn't much I need," Yukimura said. "And what I do need Sanada is more than capable of providing." There was amusement in his statement, the kind that could not be heard from his voice, but which Atobe could feel like the warm glow of the fire against his side.

"Yet you haven't refused Ohtori's help with the garden," Atobe said, more bitterness in his voice than he would have wished to reveal to a stranger.

"No." Yukimura raised his hand, and Atobe followed the movement of the limb, fascinated by the slenderness of the fingers, and the paleness of the skin that even the fire's glow could not mask. "As much as I would wish, I cannot care for the plants as well as he does. He has a gift."

"I'm lucky to have him." Atobe tightened his hold around the glass, and jumped when the fragile glass shattered in his hand, slashing a cut across his palm, and the wine spilled on his skin and on the carpet. Atobe stared at his hand, and the red liquid that dripped from his fingers, blood and wine mingled together. He hissed at the pain, brought his hand up to cradle it against his chest, but white fingers closed around his wrist, gripping painfully.

"Please, let me," Yukimura whispered, knelt before him and wrapped a white handkerchief around Atobe's hand.

Atobe followed silently as the slender fingers, their whiteness now marred with the red stains of both blood and wine, tied the cloth around his palm, and pressed his hand to a fist. "I shall avoid that topic in the future," Yukimura chuckled, and Atobe would have liked to tilt his chin up, so he could see if Yukimura was truly smiling, if his mouth was tilted upwards and there was a warm glow in his eyes, the kind his voice made Atobe imagine. "This is only temporary, of course."

"Is it?" Atobe asked, reaching out to take Yukimura's hand before the man could take it away. He did not want it to be temporary, he wanted to come again, to sit with Yukimura, feel his hands on his skin, listen to the soft voice.

"Of course." Yukimura pressed his thumb against the white cloth, above the spot where the glass had torn flesh, and Atobe flinched. "The wound must be taken care of properly."

The embarrassment Atobe felt when he understood he and Yukimura had held different conversations would have been mortifying, were it not for the way Yukimura still held his hand, and the words he spoke next. "And I would not wish for any illness to prevent you from visiting me again."

Atobe leaned down, and when he thought he might have separated the curve of a cheekbone, outlined by the flickering candlelight, Yukimura flinched backwards and stood up, letting go of Atobe's hand, and turning away, covering his face more carefully with the hood.

The gesture was like one of a frightened animal, flinching from a loud shout, and Atobe tensed in his chair, worried that he had gone too far in his curiosity. And yet at the same time he was irritated, convinced the image of frailty Yukimura now displayed was a false one.

"I should leave," he said, standing up, and taking a hesitant step towards Yukimura, perhaps expecting the man to back away. But either Yukimura had gained back his confidence, or seen that his act of frailty was not as well received as he had hoped and had forsaken it, for he gave his hand to Atobe, who clasped it.

"I hope to see you again, some evening." Yukimura released Atobe's hand and left him to stand alone in the room, walking towards a door in the back that Atobe knew led to the library. When Yukimura had stepped inside the library, and closed the door behind him, he took with him the strange enchantment that had taken hold of Atobe from the first moment they had met. Atobe breathed deeply, his thoughts flowing clearly again. He stared at his hand, the white cloth wrapped around it, and smiled weakly, noticing how his hand trembled.

A creak of a floorboard reminded Atobe he was not alone yet. Looking towards the hall, he saw the man whose existence he had nearly forgotten, staring at him. Sanada's face was no longer in the shadows, but it might as well have been, because there was no emotion on the face, nothing to make him think the man was alive. He could have just as well been a statue.

If Sanada's features had not been so pleasing to Atobe, he might have mistaken the man for Kabaji. And there was something else in the man as well, a presence that Kabaji could never master. No matter what he had thought before, this man was no servant. "You have no cook." Atobe said. "Do you prepare your master's food?"

A slight smile appeared on the lips of the stone statue and a flicker of amusement in the dark eyes. "I do," the man answered, his voice low and sensual.

Atobe laughed a little as he passed the man. Whoever the man was, he could not imagine him to be a servant, not when he could insert so much arrogance in to a simple statement.

As the door closed behind him and Yukimura was enclosed in the darkness of the room, he leaned against the door. A moment longer in the same room with Atobe, and the young man might not have left the house alive, not when the scent of his blood had awakened the hunger in Yukimura.

Yukimura tasted blood, and laughed breathlessly, realising he had allowed his fangs to tear open the flesh in his mouth, something he had not done even when he had been new to the world of darkness and blood, and had not yet known the limitations of his new body.

He pulled off the hood from his head, not seeking its cover now that there was no one here to see him, and with a sigh of contentment pressed his fingers against his mouth, brought out his tongue to lick them clean. His own blood mingled with the taste of wine and Atobe's blood tasted sweeter than he had even imagined. And how he had imagined, longed for the taste from the very moment blood was spilled before him. To think this glory had been sitting before him the whole night; enraptured by his voice, dazed by the wine, the warmth, by him.

Hungrily he licked his fingers clean, the blood soon gone, but he still felt it burning in his veins, become a part of him. He hungered for the man, to have all of him coursing through his veins, to taste that mixture of his own blood mingled with the man's.

Sanada did not knock on the door, he did not need to; Yukimura could feel him standing on the other side of the wood that separated them. If he concentrated, he could have read Sanada's mind, spoken to him without the use his voice, but Yukimura enjoyed hearing Sanada's deep voice speak, liked to see the expressions his words raised on Sanada's face, no matter how miniscule those expressions might be, as they mostly were with Sanada.

Yukimura opened the door and lifted his hand to cradle Sanada's cheek. "He is gone?"

"If you wish, I will follow to see he will return safely to his home," Sanada said, and even though there was nothing in his voice that suggested it, Yukimura knew Sanada thought him foolish. After all, they had agreed to never see Atobe, should the man appear at their doorstep. Yukimura himself had suggested it, and then broken that resolve first chance he got. "Or bring him back to you." Sanada let his eyes wander to the side of Yukimura's mouth, and when Yukimura flicked his tongue out, he could taste his own blood on his cold skin.

"Not yet," Yukimura said, and stepped past Sanada. "I am not ready for him." A small mirror on the wall showed Yukimura his face. The marks on his face had faded, no longer did they contrast so strongly with the paleness, but his skin had not yet returned to the smooth perfection of marble. "When he becomes mine, it must be perfect." Yukimura traced one of the scars with his finger, even paler than his nearly white skin, and felt the difference between that mark, and the perfect skin too clearly. "I do not wish him to see a monster. He would not love a monster."

"Yukimura, I…" Sanada looked confused, perhaps even worried. And that amused Yukimura. That Sanada thought him mad.

"And he will love me, and the rest of our family."

With those words Sanada finally realised what Yukimura meant, but despite the relief he felt, he could not help but ask, "Are you certain?" His voice was hesitant, but Yukimura could see that the prospect of their family growing pleased Sanada, and the fire of excitement that burned, buried deep in Sanada's core.

"This is not a choice one makes with cold logic, Sanada." Yukimura turned away from Sanada and chose the chair Atobe had sat on, not long ago. It still held the warmth of the man's body, and Yukimura shivered, anticipating the moment he would devour that warmth and life, and replace it with the life and gifts only he could give.

"His disappearance will not go unnoticed. He is not an orphan whose faith no one cares of, like Kirihara. He is a noble, one who is widely known and respected." Sanada came to stand before him, the shards of the broken glass crushing under his boot. "There will be questions."

"Ones we will not be here to answer," Yukimura snapped, his voice laced with irritation. He did not appreciate Sanada trying to damper his enthusiasm. He had been happy; elated in the fantasies of what it would be like when he would finally have Atobe, when he could taste the man, feel his mortal life slip away, and could see the miracle of a life given through blood come to existence.

"And if he does not follow you?" Sanada asked, stunning Yukimura to silence.

"Not possible," Yukimura finally said. "He will be mine, as all my children are."