Beta: Youkai Kisaki

A/N: Another history chapter. There will be three of them, and they will focus on Fuji. For the most part.
Comments and critique appreciated.

When Fuji woke, it was not any noise or a sound that alerted him, but a silence he had not expected to encounter when he woke.

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling above him, knowing without even looking that Atobe had not returned last night, after he had made sure Fuji rested comfortably on the bed, and that the windows were sealed so no light could shine through them during the day.

He had left the room to Fuji. The reason for it could have been any in a million. It might have been something so simple as politeness, or something more complex, that the ultimate reason for the action laid somewhere in their shared past, even if it had been initiated by something said earlier on that same night.

It was after all not as if they had no disagreements that had gone unresolved, fights that had been interrupted and never quite finished, neither apologizing nor forgiving.

And he felt sorry for that.

Fuji was envious of Ryoma. His relationship with Atobe was still new and fresh, they had yet to create so much history between them that it would undoubtedly interfere even in the menial things in life.

Sighing, Fuji pushed up from the bed and briefly glanced at the mirror on the wall before leaving the room.

He knew it was not what Atobe wanted him to do, but he could not stay locked up in that extravagant, modern room, with its widescreen TV, fully stocked mini-bar and a large bed with a soft mattress and puffy pillows that scented of some kind of exotic fruit. He wanted to see the night sky, feel the cold air and biting wind against his skin and hair, and most of all he hungered. The steady, sometimes rapid beat of little human hearts all around him in the rooms of the hotel drove him mad with lust. The fast beat of the two lovers above him, the slow one of the elderly women on his right, the steady, powerful one of the young businessman below him, the frightened, rapid pulse of the maid who was startled by his sudden appearance in the hallway.

Fuji smiled at the maid, drinking in her fright, yearning for her breath in his mouth, to hear her final gasp, to taste her, to have her. "Can I get you anything, sir?" she smiled timidly.

Fuji nearly moaned aloud at how eager she was to please him, how easy it would be to just take her. "No, I am fine," he said and walked to the elevator. Its doors opened and Fuji stepped inside and rode down next to a boy who'd been sent down by his mother, to meet his father in the restaurant.

Such sweet torture, so full of temptation was the building, that Fuji did not understand how Atobe could stand it. His hunger, already raging only grew at the scent of the boy's sweat, and it pulsed to the beat of his little heart, making the sudden impulse to take him almost irresistible. Life always tasted the sweetest when it was still untainted by the ugliness of the world.

It was why, perhaps, Ryoma was so tempting. So filled with hunger for power, and yet so innocent in his desire for it. The boy thought himself vile and despicable for not willing to offer his own life for someone else's, yet there had been no ill will in the boy's mind towards the woman - Fuji was sure - only the desire to live.

In the lobby Fuji followed the boy as he went to his father who hoisted the running boy up in the air, and they both laughed, the father making a joke about how women were always late.

Fuji looked back at the elevator, wondering if it would be worth the trouble to go back up, and see the woman responsible for such a happy family, to feel her love in him.

But a honk of a car horn, the cry of a woman, and the laughter of a man, a scream that could have belonged to either, drew his mind out to the night of the city that harboured souls far from innocent, and to minds filled with thoughts of bloody deeds.

Maybe innocence was not the best taste, after all, not tonight. He wanted to feel bloodlust like his own burn in his mouth, to take down a savage creature like himself. And he understood then, the hunger in which Atobe had spoken of killing another like them, a fledgling, one of Tezuka's children.

Fuji had not tasted immortal blood other than that of his maker, and wondered now would it still taste as wonderful when he himself was immortal?

And perhaps it was the thought of his maker that made his presence noticeable to Fuji. And once his presence was there, it drew him like a light in a dark night would have drawn a moth.

Still hungry and thirsting, Fuji made his way to his maker, and only when he reached his destination, did he stop and see where they were.

Sanada was standing at the steps of a temple, and below him stood the Echizen house.

"Is he there?" Fuji asked, moving to stand next to Sanada, and looked down at the house that to his surprise was dark. "If he is, he won't be happy to find you here."

Sanada glanced at him once before his eyes returned to the silent house. "He is all I have left," Sanada spoke to him in a tone that made Fuji wonder if it even mattered that he was there, if Sanada would have spoken even if it had been someone else there. "Yukimura was my world, and when I lost him it was Atobe that kept me intact, grounded to this world. Now that I have woken there is no other place for me than by his side."

"But Yanagi and Kirihara-"

"Yanagi looks to me to be the leader, and so does Kirihara, even if he denies it. They look to me for answers. Atobe… He makes his own choices."

"And you follow?" Fuji asked.

Sanada laughed, the sound harsh on the silent temple grounds, where whispers would have been more suited. "No. But neither does he follow." Sanada turned his face to Fuji, a small, sad smile on his lips. "I wonder if you understand, if you can. We are equals. Neither leads nor follows. I can never have another leader besides Yukimura, but neither do I wish to rule."

"Sounds wonderful," Fuji muttered, feeling doubtful.

Sanada snorted and returned to watching the house. "I do not want to think that I have lost it," he frowned. "That he has chosen this boy over me."

"It's not how he sees it," Fuji kept his voice as low as he could without whispering. "He still needs to compete with Yukimura when it comes to you."

"That is not it, it never was," Sanada answered. "He might think it, even believe it, but it was never the truth."

"Then what is?"

Sanada did not turn his face from the house this time, but looked at him from the corner of his eye and said, "You were there. Can you not answer your own question?"

"I never saw him," Fuji said, meaning Yukimura.

"But it is because of him you stand here now," Sanada looked away. "Your creation was Atobe's punishment."

Fuji thought there should have been some emotion in those words, that they should have been spoken in some other tone than the emotionless one Sanada used.

"Was I?" Fuji finally managed to utter, crossing his arms across his chest, so they would not shake so much. But it turned out useless, because all of him was shaking. "I never knew."

"You hardly mattered then, Fuji. The only one who cared for you was Atobe."

1790

-

London - England

Yanagi stepped inside the house with Kirihara and pulled off his cloak, immediately sensing the tense atmosphere, and he did not need to think long to guess the reason for it. It was nothing new, the thick frustration of their master lingering in the house, but this time it was thicker and more on edge. Atobe had been gone longer than before, for nearly four months this time. And he had not bothered to say where he was going, or when he would return, if he would return.

From the moment Yukimura and Sanada had returned two years ago with Atobe, Yanagi had sensed the change in them. Sanada's eyes no longer followed Yukimura every second. Instead his gaze would sometimes trail after the new vampire, who with one look had forced Kirihara to back away, snarling, and blocked Yanagi from his mind without even bothering to put up the pretence of a fight. Atobe was frighteningly powerful for someone new to the blood, and fascinated both Sanada and Yukimura far too much.

Before Atobe the four of them had existed amicably. There had been order in the way they lived, a strict hierarchy that had pleased Yanagi. No one ever questioned Yukimura's position as the leader, or his right to command them. He was the eldest, and the most powerful of them, their master and maker who did not need to ask for them to follow him.

Atobe had defied that hierarchy from the very start. He argued with Yukimura, something none of them had ever done. When Yukimura called for him, Atobe would ask why he should comply, asked for a reason when none of them had never questioned Yukimura.

There was one instance of Atobe's defiance that Yanagi remembered more clearly than any of the others. It had happened after Atobe had disappeared for the first time, a few months after his arrival, and returned within a few days with a human, a man he called Kabaji, who acted as Atobe's servant. Yukimura had smiled amusedly at this, Sanada frowned, but neither had spoken a word against it.

"Get me a pillow, Kabaji," Kirihara had told the human soon after his arrival, and with a subdued 'Usu', Kabaji had turned to get a pillow, when Atobe's voice had stopped him.

"Kabaji, you will not do anything Kirihara orders you to do," Atobe had said, staring at Kirihara. "Try once again to take what is mine and I will have Kabaji drag your unconscious body under the afternoon sun."

"If you are too weak to fetch a pillow for yourself, Akaya, maybe you should consider training your own human," Yukimura had commented then, walking in to the room with Sanada. And while Kirihara had laughed, Atobe had bared his teeth in a snarl directed at Yukimura.

Yukimura had only smiled, and Atobe had taken a step towards him, hands fisted in anger, but Sanada had stepped between the two. After staring at Sanada for a long moment, Atobe had nodded once before leaving the room, taking Kabaji with him. Sanada had taken a step after him, but Yukimura's voice calling out, "Sanada, stay." had stopped him.

The cracks had begun to show then. Before then, Yukimura had not needed to order Sanada to stay.

And then there were the hushed conversations between the two, held in the garden when they thought no one could hear them, or in the room at the far end of the house where none of them ever bothered to go, because it was where the human, Kabaji slept.

"Come with me, Sanada. This is not natural, and you know it. To have all this power so close, it makes my skin crawl and my teeth ache." Atobe's voice had been fervent, and Yanagi had shivered at the anxiousness he'd heard in it. "Not a day goes by that I do not wish to tear out your throats, or feed off you, to drink you so dry that there is nothing left, but ashes."

"I cannot leave Yukimura," Sanada had answered, and even though by themselves the words were final, Yanagi had heard the hesitation in his friend's voice, and doubted Atobe had missed it.

"He does not want you like I do," Atobe's voice had purred. "You still remember the heat we shared, that joint yearning? We can have it again."

"We do not need to leave to share that again," Sanada's voice had lowered, and was thick with lust. "Let me-"

"No!" The denial had been shouted sharply. "Not in this house, when he looms over us like some giant spider."

"Do you truly hate him so much?" Sanada had asked, desperate pleading in his voice, and Atobe had laughed, malice and dark amusement edged deep into the sound.

Yanagi could have told Sanada that Atobe did not hate Yukimura. What Atobe felt for the older vampire was more complex than anything simple hatred could have explained.

Only when Sanada was present did the hostility between Atobe and Yukimura grow unbearable. Both were so determined to have Sanada to themselves, to leave nothing for the other. Yanagi did not think Atobe truly cared for Sanada; all Atobe cared for was that Yukimura would not have him.

Kirihara of course thrived in the hostile atmosphere, and had never been happier, but Yanagi found it oppressive, and knew that it could not continue for long. Someone would eventually break, and he could only hope it would not be Sanada, who was pulled between the two like a rope in the endless tug o' war.

When Atobe was there with them, there was tension and sparks in the air, but when he was gone, they all treaded on fragile glass, because Yukimura grew anxious without him, when he could not pull his shining child against him, or brush his fingers against the perfect skin.

Yukimura loved them all, but Atobe he adored in a manner which none of them understood, not even Sanada. Or perhaps least of all Sanada, whom Atobe had enthralled just as strongly as he had enthralled Yukimura.

Yanagi found Yukimura inside the drawing room, standing before the fire, back facing the room. His right hand was resting on the wooden mantle, while his left hand was fisted to his side. Sanada stood by the door which Yanagi stepped through alone. Kirihara had disappeared from his side, not wanting to be part of the confrontation he sensed was near. The boy would be somewhere close enough to hear their voices, but far enough that he could not be dragged into it.

Yanagi glanced at Sanada, raised an eyebrow questioningly, and Sanada shook his head. So there had still been no word of Atobe. They usually heard something of the man within a month, if not from himself, then from another that had seen him.

But four months and no word, made them all wonder that perhaps Atobe had finally chosen to leave for good, as he had always threatened to do.

Yukimura turned to face them, and from only seeing his face you could not have known how furious he was. His face was as calm, and even if there was no a smile on his lips, neither was there a frown, or any other sign of displeasure. But the air was so full of rage Yanagi was nearly suffocated by it.

"Bring him home, Sanada," Yukimura said, voice light and tender.

"Where?" Sanada asked no more.

Yukimura closed his eyes, and smiled tensely. "In Malsbry. He has a little house there." His smile widened when his eyes locked with Sanada. "And a little pet that sits by his feet every night when he warms by the fire, wishing he still needed its warmth." The venom in Yukimura's voice, the hatred in which he spoke of this pet, made it clear it was not a dog or a cat he meant.

"And what do you wish me to do with this pet?" Sanada asked, knowing Yukimura well enough to not ask.

"Only what he asks of you," Yukimura replied with a gleeful smile. "But you can deny him, if you so wish. Though I doubt you will." Yukimura laughed softly.

Sanada left, and when he heard the front door close after him, Yanagi approached Yukimura.

"You told Sanada to do something Atobe will not be pleased with, didn't you Seichii?" he asked, the first name slipping out, as it tended to when they were alone.

Yukimura glanced at him, smiling almost joyously, a lustful hunger haunting behind it, a yearning that had nothing to do with blood. Yanagi felt dread at the look. He had seen it before; when Yukimura's eyes followed Atobe when the man strolled through the house, lost in his thoughts, forgetting for a moment that he despised them all, that he did not wish to be here. He'd seen it when Atobe was lost in pleasure, his prey still caught in his embrace, the blood warm and still living in his mouth and veins, making his body vibrate to the rhythm of the living world.

Yukimura sometimes looked at Atobe like he was a poisonous snake, that's allure was too tempting for him to not want to reach out and touch it, even at the risk of getting bitten by its venomous fangs.

"Not just to touch," Yukimura whispered, and Yanagi was surprised, though he knew he shouldn't have been, not when he had not even made an attempt to hide his thoughts and fear. "To own, to have it yield to my will."

Yukimura turned his back on Yanagi and kneeled beside the fire and outstretched his arm, almost pushing his fingers into the fire. "And not a snake, not an animal," he whispered, curling his fingers in the warmth of the flames, watching the gold and bronze colours of the fire play on his skin. "The sun. He is the sun that would turn me to ash, but I will do what no man has done, and make that brilliant orb of flames embrace, and not burn me."

Yanagi stood there, beside his master as he knelt by the fire and played with the flames, and soon Kirihara was there too, cross legged beside their master, staring fixedly at the flames as if he could see in them what Yukimura did, and was just as spellbound by the image they created.

But stare as he might, Yanagi could not see what they did in those flames, and try as he might, he could not see Atobe as anything but a dangerous beast, that would rip them all to shreds the first chance he got.

Malsbry - England

The house Sanada had learned Atobe lived in was located in the centre of the small town, and it seemed everyone knew who he was. There were no malicious rumours of him amongst the people, no one spoke ill of him, they only seemed to find Atobe's sometimes boastful manner amusing. Few puzzled why he never left his house before dark, but none ever thought it was the product of anything other than aristocratic oddity. After all, Atobe visited the church, even if only during the night, and was great friends with the priest and his family, especially with their eldest son who was a frequent visitor in Atobe's house.

They deemed it good that the priest's son had a friend of his own age, and some pleasure in his life, especially since the priest's youngest son was suffering from a long illness. The elder boy had always adored his younger brother, and the illness had been hard for him to bear. Atobe's friendship had brought the joy back to his smile.

Sanada slipped silently inside the house through the door in the back. It was not locked, and Sanada wondered briefly if that was because Atobe was expecting him, or because he saw no need to keep it locked in a town as peaceful as Malsbry.

The back door opened in to a small room with three doors. The one on his right was slightly open, and from the narrow opening Sanada could see the image Yukimura had so bitterly described.

Atobe sat on a chair before the fire, a glass of red wine in his hand, and by his feet sat a young man with sand coloured hair that graced his shoulders. There was silent beauty in the boy that vaguely reminded Sanada of Yukimura, but this youth did not posses the dangerous edge that made Yukimura's beauty so breathtaking. He did not have the violent fire that burned in Yukimura, nor the passion.

The man, whom Sanada guessed was of the same age Atobe had been two years ago, twenty, laid his head against Atobe's knee. Keeping his attention on the wine glass, Atobe rested his other hand over the young man's head, and stroked his hair absently, like one would pet a child, or a favourite dog.

"Every night you always ask me to pour a glass of wine for you." Like the rest of him, the man's voice was soft and gentle, very similar to that of a woman's. It was perhaps that likeness that caused Atobe to smile, and lean down so their faces were only inches a part, lips close enough to kiss. "But you never drink it," the man continued, and obediently parted his lips when Atobe lifted his chin, and pressed the glass against his lips and poured wine into his mouth.

When Atobe took away the glass, a drop of the wine escaped down the young man's jaw and neck, but before it could stain the white shirt he was wearing, Atobe stopped its trail with his finger. He placed the glass - still half filled - on the floor and stared at the drop of red wine on his pale skin, and leaned back.

Letting out a short laugh, almost a bark, Atobe lifted the hand and opened his mouth, but the man reached up and curled his fingers around the wrist. With his eyes locked to Atobe's, he licked the drop from form the finger. And when Atobe only stared mutely, he chuckled and released the wrist, only to place his arms around Atobe's neck, and press his head against his chest. Atobe stiffened, but did not push him away. "You never eat or drink, and your skin is always cold. And now I know your heart doesn't beat."

Sanada saw Atobe's hands shake, but then they landed on the man's shoulders and pushed him away. Atobe stared in to the man's eyes, and a frowned. "No," he said, responding to a plead Sanada had not heard.

"Why not?" The man asked, the frustration just as clear in his voice, as the trust in his actions had been. "You know he doesn't have long."

"It isn't the answer to anything," Atobe said, and Sanada saw the man wince, and knew Atobe had tightened his grip on the shoulders. "I will not do it, Fuji, I'll never do it. Not even for you."

"Don't you have a brother? Someone you care for more than yourself?" Fuji asked, his face desperate. "Every day I have to watch as the illness eats him, watch him grow weaker, slip closer to death. You don't understand how it feels to see your brother suffer like that, especially when I know there is a way to save him!"

"I did have a brother," Atobe's voice was calm, almost cold. "I loved him too little, and you love yours too much. If I had loved my brother more he might still be alive, and if you loved yours in the way you should, you would let him die, not ask me to place a curse on him."

"What curse would it be to live forever, and not be bothered by illness?" Fuji fisted his hands on Atobe's shirt and pulled himself up so he could force Atobe to see only his face. "If you won't do it to him, do it to me, and let me decide my brother's fate!" he screamed, shaking.

Quickly and sharply, like a snake, Atobe pulled Fuji's neck against his mouth with a violent cry, barely muffled by the warm skin and the muscles of the slender neck. As he bit down and tore at the pink flesh, Atobe did not even try to control his hunger, but allowed it to run rampant, and let his teeth tear at the flesh so the blood pouring out of the wound covered them both. He pulled his prey closer, embraced him in a tight, impassionate embrace, ignored the pained screams and fed until the form in his arms ceased struggling, and hung to him, letting out small gasps of pain, when he no longer had the strength to scream.

Finally satisfied Atobe let go and threw the man across the room. Heaving, trails of blood running down his jaw, Atobe stood and stared at Fuji, the violence still burning in his eyes, and the fury of a hunting animal still radiating from him. When Fuji finally lifted his head from the floor and looked up to see a monster where his friend had been only seconds ago, he could not mask the terror that took over him.

Atobe strode across the floor, picked the man up by grabbing the collar of his shirt. He slammed Fuji against the wall, not caring that he winced and let out a whimper. "Is this really what you want your brother to be exposed to?" Atobe growled. "You want him to face a monster?"

"It doesn't need to be like this," Fuji whispered, tears of pain and terror running along the curves of his face. "You could be gentle with him. He doesn't have much life left in him, and it needn't hurt, I know it doesn't."

Atobe released Fuji, and let him slide down to the floor. He turned his back and pressed a hand against his temple. "No, you do not know," he finally said, and fell to the floor, as if the strength had left his feet. Fuji, still hunched against the wall, kept quiet, but crawled across the floor to place his arms around Atobe, and to rest his jaw on his shoulder.

"What happened to your brother?" Fuji asked.

"I killed him." Fuji stiffened, and almost pulled away, but instead hugged himself to Atobe even tighter. "Smashed his head in because he wouldn't shut up." Atobe turned his head so he could see Fuji, and noticed Sanada in the doorway. He frowned and stood up and Fuji, whose hands were still around him, was dragged standing because he refused to let go. "Leave, Fuji," Atobe said, keeping himself between the youth and Sanada.

Sanada saw Fuji prepare to question, or argue with the command, but Atobe's touch on his arm stopped him. "See Kabaji before you go. He will see to your wounds." Fuji looked confused, but a sudden flash of pain on his neck reminded him of Atobe's attack. Reluctantly he pulled his hands from around Atobe's body, and without really turning his back on them, left the room.

"I won't ask why you are here," Atobe said.

"He wants you to come home," Sanada told him despite that.

"No," Atobe smiled widely and crossed his arms across his chest. "I am enjoying myself far too much."

"Because of the boy?"

"He is part of it," Atobe glanced at the door Fuji had gone through.

"And his brother?"

"Dying." Atobe kept his answer short, with as little details as possible, as Sanada had done with his questions. "Since you are here… You might as well stay." Atobe returned to the chair he had been sitting on when Sanada had first seen him. "There is room in the basement for us both. I've had Kabaji brick up the windows, and he guards the house during the day."

"What will you do when he is gone?" Sanada asked, coming to his side. "He will not live forever like you."

"Live forever?" Atobe grinned, and laughed with pure joy, and Sanada could not be but amazed. He had never heard laughter like that from Atobe. It fluttered in his head, the pure sound of Atobe's hilarity, and pulled on the strings of his heart in a way that almost made him check if it wasn't beating.

"Oh Sanada, do you ever listen to yourself?" Atobe asked, his voice still quivering from the laughter. He grasped Sanada's arm and pulled the man down so he was now kneeling before Atobe. "The things you say," Atobe murmured fondly, grazing his knuckles against Sanada's cheek and stared at him with eyes that sparkled like shattered ice when the midnight's moon shone on it.

"Are you not worried?" Sanada asked, taking Atobe's hand and bringing it to his lips.

"About what?" Atobe asked, gliding one finger along the line of Sanada's jaw with an absent look.

"The boy. That he will say something, or someone will start to wonder where he received his injuries. Would it not be wiser to simply give him what he asks for?" Sanada wiped some of the blood from Atobe's face but before he could move the blood soiled finger to his mouth, Atobe's palm covered his mouth.

"No," Atobe answered, and never moving his eyes from Sanada's, pressed his tongue, still coursing with the warmth the boy's blood had given, against Sanada's fingers, slid it across the skin till not a single speck of red remained.

"You are far too possessive," Sanada remarked amusedly, swiped his thumb across another red trail marring the perfect white skin, but before Atobe could do no more than narrow his eyes, pressed it against Atobe's lips. Eyes opening wide, Atobe relaxed his mouth and let Sanada push the thumb past his lips, and pressed it against a sharp fang that cut through the skin, so the taste of Sanada's warm blood filled his mouth.

Atobe sighed contently around Sanada's thumb and his eyelids fluttered down over the cold fire that always burned through Sanada, leaving him bare and exposed before the other man. Even with blood drying on his face he could still enthral him, and Sanada suspected he would always be able to do that.