Author's Notes: Thank you so much for your patience, everyone! (*_*) I come bearing a new chapter and art!

By kuhakukaien on tumblr: post/159680600376/half-youkai-yuuri-from-the-fic-you-only-live (golden-eyed Yuuri with his sansetsukon)

By runesque on tumblr: dreaming-fireflies dot tumblr dot com slash post/159716029477/commissioned-the-amazing-talented-runesque-for (Victor's POV of Yuuri under the moon in Chapter 1)

Show love to the wonderful artists, and as always, I hope you enjoy the chapter. :3

"What the fuck," says Yurio.

Ducking down in a crouch, Yuuri's youkai reflexes just barely managed to save him from getting his head blown open, but no one in the entranceway missed the bright flash of brilliant gold. Especially not Otabek who, pistol still smoking from the last shot, has already lowered the gun to fire a second time.

Otabek's inhuman speed seems to catch Yuuri by surprise – and that split-second freeze is all it takes.

At the sight of blood – the bullet piercing through Yuuri's shoulder, through his angel's shoulder – Victor snaps out of the initial shock and jolts forward, throwing his body round Yuuri. "Yura," he hisses, grip tightening as he feels something wet and warm soak into his shirt, "Tell Otabek to back off."

Otabek still has his damn gun trained on them. "That thing's not human."

Victor's temper flares. "I swear to god, Yura, call off your guard dog before I – "

"Victor," Yuuri cuts in, voice muffled in fabric, "Victor, I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Victor snaps, pulling back, too terrified to lay eyes on the wound but knowing he has to access the damage, to clean the injury, to –

"What the fuck," Yurio says again.

There's a small hole in Yuuri's white shirt, charred and bloodied round the edges, with nothing but smooth, unmarred skin beneath. Victor looks down at the dark stain on his own shirt, feeling the bile rise in his throat. Yuuri had bled on him – bled on him – and then just… healed.

All in a span of seconds.

"Regenerative abilities," Yuuri says with a sheepish smile, and Victor's filled with the sudden urge to kiss him senseless in sheer relief.

"Told you he's not human," Otabek says in Russian, gun rising again, before Yurio slaps his hand away.

"Enough, Beka."

Otabek's pale face twitches imperceptibly. "But – "

"Whatever he is, he's clearly harmless," Yurio scowls, "Just look at that fucking girly apron."

"So um," says Yuuri, peeking cautiously over Victor's shoulder, gold eyes dulling back to a warm brown behind his glasses. "Will you be staying for dinner?"

Instead of omelet rice, which did turn out to be very well burnt, Yuuri pulls out his mother's famous recipe and whips up a wonderful dish he calls "katsudon". Victor doesn't think their cockblocking, angel-wounding intruders deserve such a luxury, but Yuuri is insistent, asserting that it's only hospitable to feed guests with proper food – as if he hadn't just been shot through the shoulder.

Then again, it might all be worth it just to see Yuuri's eyes sparkle with delight when Yurio lifts his empty bowl, muttering for seconds.

"You should try my mother's someday," Yuuri smiles, setting down Yurio's refilled bowl, "Hers is the real deal."

"And this isn't?" Yurio shovels a huge spoonful in his mouth like a tiny little barbarian.

Victor's lips curve in amusement. "Goodness, is that an actual compliment, Yurio?"

"Shut up," Yurio sprays rice grains across the dining table with vehemence, cheeks bulging, "No one asked you, asshole."

"Are you, um… are you sure you don't want anything?" Yuuri meekly asks Otabek, who shrugs as he tugs off his fingerless leather gloves and lays them neatly on the table.

"As a vampire, Otabek only eats raw meat," Victor points out as Yuuri's mouth forms a small 'o' of realization. "His coven has served Yurio's family as bodyguards for generations, and Otabek himself was assigned to Yurio when Yurio turned fourteen two years ago."

"What I'd like to know," Yurio pauses for a swallow, "Is what the hell you are." He stabs the chopsticks in Yuuri's direction, lips curling. "The healing shit's one thing, but that gold. That gold was unnatural, even for a demon."

"His aura is different, too," Otabek adds quietly, red eyes slanting. "I've never felt that kind of power."

Victor shoots Otabek a look of amazement. "You can feel his aura?"

Mutely, the vampire arches an eyebrow. Victor has worked with Otabek long enough to understand the demon's silent gestures. This one is saying, why else would I try to kill him?

"I didn't think demons could sense youkai, that's all."

"Sense what," says Yurio, looking at Victor as though he has grown a second head.

"We have a long night ahead of us," Victor sighs dramatically, while Yuuri lets out a soft laugh.

They explain the phenomenon of youkai to the pair, including Yuuri's half-youkai blood. Victor notes that Yuuri leaves out the more tragic details of his family's curse, which might be for the best given Otabek's wildly protective tendencies. And to his surprise, even after all the missions, he discovers that he still has more to learn about youkai in their little sharing session.

"So let me get this straight," says Yurio, crossing his arms. "Most youkai are fundamentally good unless angered or exposed to negative human emotions?"

Yuuri nods. "Remember the phoenix?" he turns to Victor. "Chris was right about it being a youkai that symbolizes prosperity; it just made a terrible choice of residing near a hospital. Too much death and loss corrupted its otherwise pure soul."

Victor's eyebrows rise past his bangs. One of those things is not a surprise he enjoys. "'Chris'? You call him 'Chris'?"

"Um yes?" says Yuuri, blinking, just as Yurio slams his fists on the table.

"Even the pervert is here?" the blond hunter bares his teeth in a snarl. "You bastards better explain why you're hiding out here, when there's a vampire infestation going on back home."

"Victor's filming for a movie," Yuuri tries to explain, just as Victor chirps, sparkling, "Because it's so much more fun in Japan!"

Their heightened senses must have forewarned them because both demon and half-youkai silently slip off their seats and back away from the dining table, seconds before Yurio flips the table and makes a flying leap at the other hunter.

"Do vampires really drink human blood?" Victor overhears Yuuri asking while Yurio shakes him by the collar and screeches incoherently in his face.

"We require blood, yes, but not human blood. Human blood is to vampires like heroin is to humans."

"Oh. Is that why an infestation is so bad?"

"Yes, because that's usually when they gather to – "

"LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU," Yurio shrieks at a pitch that's a little too similar to the phoenix youkai.

"All right, you need my help with the vampires, I get it," Victor laughs, prying Yurio's fingers off his shirt before the teenager rattles his brain out of his ears. "But surely there must be other hunters available."

"That's not the point," Yurio snaps. "You promised you'd help."

"Did I?" says Victor, before grabbing at the smaller hands that reach in response for his neck. (If Yurio has the tenacity to cross an ocean for some casual "promise", he might just find the strength to throttle Victor with his bare hands.) "Wait! I have an idea!"

Yurio withdraws with a skeptical glare. "You're finally going to keep your word for once and come back with me?"

"Well…" Victor's eyes dart to the living room, where Yuuri and Otabek are seated on the floor chairs, engaged in a quiet discussion about Western demons and the various exorcism methods. Yuuri looks positively adorable, leaning back on the tatami mat with his legs stretched out in front of him, brown eyes bright with interest behind the fake lenses. They haven't taken on any missions since Yuuri's transformation, and while Victor understands that Yuuri needs time to recover from the trauma of turning, he's also itching to see Yuuri in battle again.

Judging by how relaxed Yuuri looks right now, guard down even in the presence of an armed vampire, it's time to kick-start Yuuri's battle spirit.

"I'll go back with you if you beat Yuuri in a fair fight," Victor announces cheerfully.

"Ex-cuse me?" Yurio snarls, just as Yuuri turns to throw Victor a bewildered look. "It's the air here, isn't it? You've gone fucking mad because of the damn country air. Why should I have to fight your katsudon boy just because you went back on your promise?"

"I agree," Yuuri says. (Oh, thinks Victor with elation, he's not denying a certain possessive pronoun in that sentence.) "Besides, it wouldn't be very fair considering I'm half-youkai."

Yurio whips round. "You think I can't beat you because of your demon half?"

"Youkai," Yuuri corrects automatically. "I just think – "

Stalking closer, Yurio leans up menacingly into Yuuri's personal space. "I bet I can beat the shit out of you with both hands tied behind my back."

To Victor's delight, Yuuri doesn't apologize or make any further attempts to explain his remark. Instead, the Japanese flashes an amused smile. "I'm sorry, but this is the kind of foolhardy attitude that's gotten hunters killed."

"That's it," Yurio barks, turning nearly purple with fury, "You, me; outside now."

"Oh I can't tonight," Yuuri rubs at the back of his neck. "I have an early assignment tomorrow."

Otabek snorts in the background.

"Right," says Victor, stepping between the two before Yurio can lunge for Yuuri. "Why don't we schedule Saturday night to be the battle of Yuri and Yuuri? The victor brings home… well, Victor!"

"Not funny, old man," Yurio growls, "But you're on. I'll see you Saturday, demon."

"Youkai," Yuuri says, but the younger man has swept round the corner to the front entrance.

Tugging his gloves back on, Otabek follows suit, the crisscross pattern of belts round his waist and thighs clacking against each other as he moves. He halts by Yuuri, red eyes flickering to the hole in his shirt. "Yuri's my first priority," he says quietly.

"I understand," Yuuri replies.

Otabek nods once, looking satisfied. Then, he's gone.

"That's the first time Otabek has ever apologized to anyone," Victor remarks as he heaves up the fallen dining table.

Yuuri returns to the dining room, frowning, "I don't think we should go through with this fight. I really do have an unfair advantage with my youkai blood."

"That would be the point."

"What do you mean?"

Victor shrugs, piling up the bowls and chopsticks in the sink in preparation for his very important dishwashing role. "Our young Yurio needs to learn that he has to pick his battles, that he can't keep bullying people into getting his way. This is the perfect opportunity."

Yuuri comes up next to him, folding his arms across his chest. "But he said you promised to help him."

"Not that I can remember," Victor hums, turning on the kitchen tap.

"Victor," Yuuri says reproachfully. "Why didn't you just tell him you'd go back as soon as your filming was done?"

"Because then he'd have expectations and get impatient again." (That, and Victor's not actually here for a movie; bless his sweet, gullible angel.) "Besides," the Russian adds as he starts on the first bowl, scrubbing out rice grains and dried egg remnants under the running water, "It's also a good chance for you to dust off your weapon and get back on the field."

Yuuri's frown deepens. "What if the youkai comes out again?"

"It won't," Victor states firmly.

"What makes you so sure? It's getting stronger and I'm – "

"Strong, Yuuri. Stronger than you realize." Victor leans in, reaching up to grasp Yuuri's chin, dripping water. "And I want you to remind everyone just how strong you are."

Yuuri's eyes grow wide. Then, slowly, they soften, a smile touching his lips. "Fine. I shall fight for the honor of your continued stay in Japan."

"That's what I like to hear!" Victor cheers, sinking his hands back in the dirty dishes.

Shaking his head, Yuuri heads to the closet in the living room, rubbing at his wet chin with the back of his hand. Victor hears rustling as the other man removes the apron and rifles through his clothing.

"I'm doing the laundry tomorrow, so don't forget to add your shirt to the laundry basket," Yuuri calls out, "Blood's harder to wash out if you let it sit for too long."

Victor pauses in his washing. Amidst the tornado that was Yuri Plisetsky, he had forgotten all about the bloodstain on his shirt. Yuuri's blood. And the nonchalance at which Yuuri talks about washing out blood from shirts makes it all the more unnerving.

Resting his elbows on the edge of the sink, Victor draws in a deep breath. "Yuuri?"

"Hmm?"

"How's your shoulder?"

"Good as new. Like nothing happened." Yuuri appears beside him again, a towel and sleepwear draped over an arm. "Something wrong?" he asks, concerned.

Victor turns, noting again just how captivating the Japanese man looks with his tousled hair and soft, brown eyes – an angel that shines even in crumpled home clothes.

Crumpled home clothes with a noticeable bullet hole in the shoulder area.

"Does it hurt?" Victor murmurs, reaching out hesitantly to caress the exposed skin, drenching Yuuri's shirt. "Did it hurt?"

"It hurt when the bullet went through, but it doesn't hurt anymore." Yuuri lays a hand over Victor's, not caring in the least that his shirt is progressively getting more soaked. "You just gave a grand speech about how strong I was."

"I know," Victor chuckles, "I never said I was."

"You, Victor Nikiforov?" Yuuri teases gently. "You've fought in world wars, leapt off airplanes, and driven burning race cars."

"Computer graphics and stuntmen." Victor grins. "You are my greatest fan, aren't you?"

"Not as much as Yuuko." Yuuri flashes a shy smile. "But definitely a close second."

Victor's heart does an odd little flip-flop in his chest. God, he loves that smile.

"I'm going to take a bath," Yuuri pulls away then, "But we can talk more after? On our futons?"

"I'd like that," Victor smiles broadly in return.

Christophe clicks his tongue. "Seriously, this is your emergency?"

"I needed your expert opinion," Victor states. He holds up a piece, inspecting the ribbons on the soft fabric. "What do you think of this one?"

Christophe shrugs, his foot tapping restlessly as he glances about the department store. Victor knows that his friend's undergoing some sort of nicotine withdrawal, needing a new stick every couple of minutes. The only time Christophe doesn't smoke is when he's hunting, the adrenaline distracting him from his cravings. "It's cute," the Swiss man says absently.

"I haven't killed you for earning Yuuri's affection yet," Victor smiles winsomely, "So the least you can do is help me pick this out."

"Are you still upset about him calling me 'Chris'?" Christophe guffaws. "He probably does that because he's heard everyone else call me that."

"How did you even get his number?" Victor asks, holding up a second piece to compare with the first.

"Phichit. I wanted to be nice and ask how he was doing. Apparently that's a crime now?" Christophe tosses a lazy smirk at a group of Japanese ladies hovering near the cookery section. The women titter excitedly among themselves.

"Punishable by death," Victor says over Christophe's responding laugh.

"All right, you madman, I'll limit my messages with Yuuri if it'll make you feel better." Christophe shifts his weight, agitatedly tapping his other foot this time. "Speaking of which, are you sure you know what you're doing with the other Yuri?"

"Yes, this will be a valuable lesson for him." Victor lifts up a third piece, frowning. Heart shaped or shortened length; frills or ribbons; with or without a back – so many choices.

"I think you're underestimating Plisetsky's determination. The kid got on an airplane to an unknown land just to drag you home."

"You're underestimating Yuuri's fighting abilities," Victor points out, just as a sales rep approaches them with a timid smile.

"Can I help you?" the sales rep asks in halting English.

"Oh, yes, uh…" Victor grapples for the vocabulary and sentence structures that he has been trying to cram into his mind with the help of Yuuri's Japanese language books. "Looking for… M size. Black and sexy. Recommendations?"

The sales rep flushes in relief at discovering that he's able to speak her language. "Certainly," she chirps, "I'll bring a few items you might like. Is this for your wife?"

"Yes," Victor beams.

As the sales girl hurries away to retrieve the products, Christophe raises an eyebrow at Victor. "Did she say the word 'wife', or did I hear that wrong?"

"You heard it right."

Christophe snorts. "Yuuri is one lucky man."

When informed, Seung-gil is surprisingly enthusiastic – as enthusiastic as the stoic curator can get – about the battle. It is he who suggests an open field close to his museum, even offering to set up a barrier of charms to make the space invisible to the normal human eye. Victor suspects that Seung-gil is excited to finally have tangible proof of the superiority of Eastern exterminators over Western hunters.

FROM: Priest?
[Oh, one other thing.]

FROM: Priest?
[Make sure Chulanont's present.]

TO: Priest?
[To add to Yuuri's cheer squad?]

TO: Priest?
[What a brilliant idea, Seungie!]

TO: Priest?
[｡･:*:･ﾟ ,｡･:*:･ﾟ very d(*⌒▽⌒*)b good ｡･:*:･ﾟ ,｡･:*:･ﾟ ]

FROM: Priest?
[…]

FROM: Priest?
[Just make sure he's there, hunter.]

It's thus on Saturday that Victor sees Phichit in ordinary clothes for the first time, the Thai man opting for a casual look with his simple sun-colored T-shirt and skinny jeans. Without the clunky armor, Phichit is considerably smaller than Victor thought. The petite man is by Yuuri's side now, showing Yuuri pictures of his newly acquired hamster – Taeyeon, named after some female idol to piss Seung-gil off – both giggling, heads together, exchanging ideas for a new youtube video.

"I get death threats, but Phichit gets to make Yuuri laugh without consequence?" Christophe asks, cigarette dangling between his lips. "I call discrimination."

Victor grins. "I'm not comfortable with it, but they've been best friends for years. You, on the other hand, are a man who's had chlamydia."

Christophe exhales, the cigarette smoke framing his bemused expression. "Get an STD that one time…"

"If you fucking perverts are trying to horrify me into losing, it's not working," Yurio mutters darkly.

The blond teenager hefts a large, polished blade onto his shoulder, the weight of a weapon nearly twice his height pushing him into a slight hunch. (Christophe's many, many innuendos about Yurio's efforts at compensation were not well received.) He's still in his tiger-print hoodie and sneakers, though he has traded his black pants for jeans, artfully sliced and torn at strategic parts of the denim material.

Observing Yuuri's battle gear from afar, the young hunter lets out a sniff of disdain. "Figures your demon boy would be into all that leather."

"Youkai," Victor says, even as he turns to admire all that leather with sparkling eyes.

"Are you any different?" Christophe smirks, jerking his head at Otabek. "Your demon boy's got a leather jacket, leather pants, leather boots… and then there's the excess of kinky belts."

The vampire arches a thick eyebrow in response, thumbs hooked under studded belts in a relaxed pose. Yurio turns scarlet, spluttering. "I'm different because I don't lust after my bodyguard."

"Why not? At your age, I would've bagged someone with Altin's looks faster than you can say, 'I'd hit that'."

Otabek snags Yurio's waistband in the nick of time, yanking the teenager back while he makes enraged, frenzied swings at Christophe with his giant weapon. "Leave Beka out of your filthy fantasies, you sick bastard!"

"Hey guys," Phichit yells from the other end of the field, hands cupped round his mouth, "Yuuri's ready when you are!"

"Let's set up some ground rules first," Victor calls back, stepping out to the middle of the field and beckoning for the two fighters to join him.

"Fuck rules," Yurio shrugs off Otabek's grip and stomps after Victor, shooting Christophe a dirty look as he passes. "I say we go for a free-for-all death match."

"I'd rather not," Yuuri says as he joins them, face stricken.

"Why, scared of death?" Yurio sneers.

"Not in the way you think I am."

"Rule number one: this is a simple sparring match," Victor swiftly begins before Yurio can respond. "First person to disarm his opponent wins."

"What," Yurio objects, while Yuuri visibly breathes a sigh of relief. "That's not – "

"Rule number two," Victor continues firmly, "No biting, kneeing in the groin – " both Yurio and Yuuri wince at the same time " – or any other underhanded tactic. And rule number three…" Victor spreads his arms wide, grinning. "Have fun!"

"Fun my ass," Yurio snarls, shoving Victor roughly to the side, before charging at Yuuri, blade held low to the ground, "Victor's coming home with me!"

With a flash of gold, the fight begins.

There's little technique to Yurio's fighting style. Relying solely on brute strength and sheer will power, the teenager's attacks land heavy blows that leave dents in the grass. The contrast can't be starker with Yuuri, who flits about like a dandelion in the wind, dancing nimbly away from Yurio with ease, yet showing no intention to attack.

"Is he teasing the kid?" Christophe chortles, smoke curling from the cigarette between his fingers, "Because it's clear who has the upper hand here."

"Yuuri's plan is to tire Yurio out," Phichit says, watching the fight with his arms crossed. "He's afraid of hurting him."

"Bad idea," Otabek notes in his quiet voice, "Yuri's getting pissed."

Mentally, Victor agrees with the vampire. On occasion, Yurio has surprised him with amazing feats in battle when fuelled by pure rage, and there's no telling what the boy will do this time. Judging by the contorted snarl on Yurio's face, dripping with sweat, the young hunter is nearing his anger limit.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at," Yurio hisses, as Yuuri dodges another heavy swing, "Fight me, damn it!"

"I am fighting," Yuuri smiles sheepishly, stepping to the side to avoid a particularly vehement thrust.

"No," Yurio bows his head, blond hair falling over his eyes, "You're looking down on me."

With the sudden drop in Yurio's voice, Yuuri must have sensed danger. He leaps backwards, just in time for Yurio to swing up his sword, rest the bottom edge on a hand, and – open fire.

"What – " Even in his bafflement, Yuuri slides a foot back and lowers his center, spinning his weapon rapidly like the blades of a fan. The sudden rain of bullets bounces off the shield with sharp clinks, sparking with each contact.

"What is that," Phichit breathes above Christophe's low whistle.

"A gunblade." Victor's eyebrows knit in concern. That's an unanticipated factor. "When did he get the upgrade, Otabek?"

"When he made the decision to come here," Otabek says, red eyes glowing in the darkness.

"Got you." Soaring above Yuuri, Yurio's legs split wide open to accommodate the full overhead swing he performs, his large blade flying down on Yuuri's head.

Yuuri whirls round, a strange shadow crossing his face, before he flings himself to the side.

The gunblade slams deep into the spot where he stood seconds ago, Yurio swearing, just as Yuuri rolls to his feet and sends his sansetsukon whirring out – spear snapping into three – silver chains winking with the lightning motion. Arching back in an impossible bend, Yurio barely dodges the blade as it slides dangerously past his neck, before snapping back to its original form in Yuuri's hand.

"I'm so sorry," Yuuri gasps then, clutching at his weapon, face twisting as though he were straining against some invisible force, "I didn't mean – "

"Now you're taking me seriously," Yurio cackles, heaving his sword from the dirt to pull at the built-in trigger, firing indiscriminately at Yuuri. Instantly, the Japanese exterminator's face slides back into a shadowy expression, before he breaks into a blurred sprint down the field, bullets tracking his path.

"Phichit," Victor says quietly. "Did Yuuri just…?"

Phichit's fingers are digging deep into his arms, marking little indents in his skin. "He did. Bullets are a novelty to us; all that excitement must be making it harder for Yuuri to suppress the fox."

"His power is surging." Otabek's hand slides to the holster on his side.

"Down, boy." Christophe casts a glance at Victor. "Let's not be hasty."

On the field, Yuuri changes course abruptly, darting straight for the young hunter and leaping high to the sky, sansetsukon whirling in front of him as a makeshift shield.

With only seconds to react, Yurio swings his blade, flat side up, bracing the impact with trembling arms as Yuuri's weapon strikes from above, metallic clang ringing out through the field.

"I said to disarm," Victor shouts, growing increasingly alarmed, but Yuuri isn't listening. The Japanese exterminator kicks against Yurio's blade to flip backwards, twirling in midair to hurl his weapon at Yurio's unguarded chest with the momentum.

Yurio barely has time to ram his blade into the ground to deflect the attack, before Yuuri is already somersaulting over the smaller boy, gold eyes ablaze, spear raised for a killing blow.

It's only then that Victor notices Phichit racing up to the pair, yelling Yuuri's name, jeweled sword in his hands.

It's only then that Victor notices Otabek shift beside him.

"No, don't – "

For the second bloody time that week, Victor hears the dreaded sound of a gunshot ringing through his ears.

"Yuuri!"

The sansetsukon crashes to the grass some distance away as Yuuri lands on all fours, blood splattering from the wound in his hand.

Stunned, both Phichit and Yurio have frozen in place on the field.

And Otabek still has his arm stretched to its full length, the barrel of his pistol smoking.

"I said not to be hasty," Christophe sighs.

Victor can see the dark aura forming around Yuuri now, engulfing him, while the half-youkai rises to his feet and straightens slowly, gold eyes slanting. In missions, there have been moments when Yuuri turns silent during a tough fight, his focus set resolutely on his target – a feature that Victor always thought to be a mere battle quirk when the other man is in full-on fighting mode.

Now, watching Yuuri lift his injured hand to his lips, watching him lap at the blood, slow and sensual, even as the wound fills in and heals with rapid speed, Victor realizes that this is how it looks for Yuuri to lose control in a gradual transformation, driven by danger and the pure exhilaration of fighting.

(This is how sinfully hot Yuuri can look in human form.)

The salacious effect shatters when Phichit sprints up to swipe at Yuuri with the blunt edge of his sword.

"C'mon, bud, fight it," the Yaksha yells as Yuuri dodges the attack, "Don't make me do this!" Phichit takes another hard swing, but Yuuri ducks again, darting away to grab his weapon from the ground.

"Plisetsky," Christophe calls warningly from the sidelines.

"I've got it covered, pervert," Yurio snaps, swiftly jerking his gunblade forward to a defensive stance when Yuuri charges up to him – only to watch in bewilderment as Yuuri glides right by, coat soaring.

Arm pulling back, the half-youkai flings the sansetsukon with full strength at Otabek, the segments whipping out in a blur of silver.

The fox, Victor notes, is quite a vindictive beast.

Red eyes flash, before the vampire snatches at the chain with inhuman speed and reels Yuuri in like a fish on a hook, his other hand flying up to aim the pistol at Yuuri's temple.

Driving a heel into the dirt, Yuuri forces his body to fall backwards from the sudden friction, back arching, graceful as a ballerina, just as the familiar cracking noise fires mere inches above his head. Before hitting the ground, Yuuri's palms slam down, propelling him into a back flip as one foot hooks his weapon back to his hand in one fluid motion.

Without waiting for Yuuri to right himself, Otabek strides forward with his pistol raised – "Stop," Phichit screams – and fires one shot after another at the Japanese exterminator.

The dark aura pulses with Yuuri's every evasion; gold eyes taking on a menacing gleam, lips pulling back to reveal sharpening fangs.

Oh no. No, no, no.

Nothing was going as planned. Nothing. It was supposed to be a friendly sparring session. It was supposed to be a simple sparring session. Most importantly, it was supposed to get Yuuri his spark back, not re-experience his transformation all over again, and certainly not to curl up in misery on his futon later, looking small and sad and so very lost.

For the first time in his life – and Victor is getting so many firsts with Yuuri – the Russian hunter has had enough of surprises.

Determined to put a stop to the madness, Victor takes a step towards the pair and –

"Beka!"

Swooping past Victor, Yurio rams the blunt edge of his gunblade straight into Otabek's back, sending the startled vampire flying into a tree on the far end of the field.

"Enough," Yurio commands, chest heaving.

In that next moment, with Yuuri paused in confusion, Phichit takes the opportunity to slam the flat of his sneakers into the back of Yuuri's head.

"You dropkicked him."

"M'fine," Yuuri murmurs, words slurring. Head cradled in Victor's lap, he has the back of a hand draped across his forehead, eyes closed.

"You dropkicked Yuuri. He probably has a concussion."

"I promised Yuuri to do whatever it takes," Phichit states fiercely.

"There has to be a better way than kicking him in the head," Victor retorts.

"You think I want to hurt my best friend? What about your trigger-happy vampire? I could've talked Yuuri out of it if he hadn't been shot first."

"Why didn't you use the charms?"

"I can't seal something that hasn't fully surfaced. Not till Otabek provoked the beast further, anyway."

"Aren't there charms that can help Yuuri suppress the youkai then?"

"Actually, yes, I just thought it'd be more fun not to use them."

"Phichit – "

The Yaksha straightens, jaw clenched. "Who are you really mad at, Victor? The person who dropkicked Yuuri, or the person who put Yuuri in a fight because of some forgotten promise?"

"Damn, Chulanont," Christophe says softly while Victor bristles, anger and guilt curling in the pit of his stomach. "Phichit – "

"Please stop before my brain explodes," Yuuri groans, and Victor and Phichit cease instantly. "No one's at fault; everyone did what they thought was right."

Hovering nearby, Otabek nods in agreement, rubbing ruefully at his back. "He was getting too dangerous for Yuri."

"Yeah well, Beka needs to know when to stop," Yurio huffs from where he's leaning against a tree, gunblade stuck in the dirt next to him. He lowers his gaze, muttering, "Just like I do."

"Yurio," Victor's face softens, "You're learning."

"I'm saying I need to stop expecting anything from you, you lying asshole," the young hunter rolls his eyes. "You were never going to come back with me, were you?"

"If you had won – "

"If I had won, you'd have found some loophole." Green eyes flicker down to Yuuri. "Or some other bullshit excuse to stay."

"It's not a bullshit excuse," Victor says quietly.

"Whatever," snorts Yurio. "I'm going home to handle the shit-storm without you." He glances over at Otabek, meeting the vampire's intense gaze. "We're going to handle it without you."

Otabek's lips quirk ever so slightly.

Nodding, Christophe flicks a cigarette stub over his shoulder. "Since it looks like Plisetsky's getting his happily ever after, might I suggest we carry our damoiseau in distress back to his apartment where he'd feel much more comfortable?"

"Good idea," Victor agrees, slipping his hands under Yuuri's back and knees.

"No, wait," Yuuri flails as soon as Victor lifts him up in his arms princess style, suddenly more energetic than he was just seconds before, "I can walk – "

"Shhh," Victor whispers, resting his forehead against Yuuri's, feeling the smooth skin heat up instantly in a flush. "Let me do this for you. Please."

For a moment, Yuuri doesn't respond. And then, brown eyes blink up at him, so full of tenderness and understanding that Victor feels his heart wrenched to his throat. "…okay."

Rising to his feet next to them, Phichit shakes his head, but remains silent.

FROM: Priest?
[So did our Gumiho win?]

TO: Priest?
[Define winning]

FROM: Priest?
[Verb (used without object): to gain a victory; overcome an adversary]

TO: Priest?
[Not funny. Yuuri nearly turned.]

FROM: Priest?
[Ah. And now you're wallowing in self-loathing.]

TO: Priest?
[I shouldn't have put Yuuri in a fight]

FROM: Priest?
[Well you did. The milk has spilt. Move on.]

TO: Priest?
[… you make the worst priest]

FROM: Priest?
[I communicate with the Gods, not deal with your asinine, mortal problems.]

"You look so intense."

Victor turns his head to smile at Yuuri, the brightness of his phone screen casting artful shadows over the sleepy features. "Sorry, did I wake you?" he whispers, reaching up with his free hand to brush errant dark hairs back in place.

"Mm, no," Yuuri blinks blearily, nose crinkling. "Or maybe kind of."

Victor chuckles. "Is your head still concussed?"

"Maybe," Yuuri sighs, breath warm against Victor's neck. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I will in a minute."

A fist curls and uncurls in his shirt, soft and gentle. They had come to an agreement early on that Victor was to put on clothes when they started sharing their futons; for Yuuri because, well, he's Yuuri and pure as the fallen snow, and for Victor, because he's anything but.

Honestly, a thin piece of fabric wasn't all that helpful, either – not with Yuuri's tendency to feel him up at night, hands exploring in his sleep.

"You know Phichit only said that because he was too strung out from worry, right?" Yuuri asks softly.

Victor breathes in deep. He has never cared what people thought of him – not since he was eight and finally understood that people only loved some fantasized image of him because of his looks.

People only hated some fantasized image of him because of his looks.

And so he gave in to that image, this false version that people wanted. Victor Nikiforov: handsome, flighty, debonair – the elusive playboy of many mysteries and double the number of misplaced promises and broken hearts. He could count the number of people who knew the real Victor on one hand. (Chris, Chris, and, ah, Chris.) So really, Victor could do whatever he wanted, because at the end of the day, it wasn't him anyway.

But Yuuri sees him; Yuuri wants to see him.

Victor wants Yuuri to see him.

Yet, to be him is to be real, and to be real means to acknowledge that he can't just do whatever he wanted, because he can, will – and has – hurt the people he cares about.

"Phichit's not wrong," Victor murmurs, sliding a hand round Yuuri's waist, down the slender hips. (He has every ridge and contour memorized; yet he delights in retracing them every time.) "I pulled you into my affairs, my mistake, and put you in unnecessary danger."

"I think you owe an apology to Yurio, maybe, not me."

"But I - "

"Victor," Yuuri cuts in with a small huff, "Why do you think I became an exterminator?"

Victor pauses. "For stress relief?"

"Partly, yes," Yuuri starts drawing little circular patterns on Victor's chest, and Victor shivers, suddenly glad for their no-naked rule. "But mostly because it gives me a sense of control. It gives me confidence... this feeling like I'm strong enough, that I can be strong enough. My mentor, Morooka-sensei, he thought exterminating youkai would help me with suppressing the curse, and it did for a while. I learned to tap into the fox's power without letting it take control. That is, until sensei disappeared."

"Disappeared?" Victor catches Yuuri's hand in his, tugging it down to rest on his stomach – to keep it still so he can concentrate.

Yuuri nods, cheek sinking further into the curve in his pillow. "It's been a couple of years, but he just, vanished. Seung-gil thinks the Exterminator Society has something to do with it; they've always hated that he took me in as a student. But we never found any proof. I kept going as an exterminator, both for sensei and myself, but it felt… different. I didn't feel as confident anymore. Meanwhile, the youkai in me kept getting stronger, kept clawing to get out. It became harder to use its power without losing control. Seung-gil started saying things like, 'it's inevitable, Gumiho' and, 'we have to prepare for the worst, Gumiho'…"

Victor pulls Yuuri in closer, quelling the tremors he can feel running through the other's body. "What about Phichit?"

"Phichit has been incredible and so positive with me, but I know he thinks it's inevitable, too. I know he's given up." Yuuri smiles wistfully, and Victor feels his heart in his ears, "I know I gave up."

"Yuuri…"

"Then you came into my life." Yuuri laughs, embarrassed. "I mean, you've always been in my life, but not in person, you know? And then you said, you said at dinner that you liked my eyes, and… it gave me hope again. Hope and happiness and everything I used to feel with Morooka-sensei."

Victor exhales slowly. "Was this Morooka a former lover?"

There's a beat, before Yuuri smushes his pillow down on Victor's face. "He was my mentor," he says flatly.

Victor pushes the pillow aside. "But you said – "

"What I'm trying to say," Yuuri sits up and snatches the pillow back, pouting so very cutely, "Is that you wanted me to fight because you believed in me. The youkai took over in the end, but you believed I had the will to fight back, even after seeing my transformation, even after seeing me lose control… and just that alone helps. Really, really helps."

Victor rises up, eyes softening. "So you'll fight it? The curse?"

Yuuri breathes in, and nods. "As much as I'm able, yes."

Viktor reaches for him, "Oh Yuuri, I'm so glad…"

"Hang on," Yuuri pulls back. "You're not completely off the hook."

Viktor's heart sinks. "I'm not?"

"No, you're not." Yuuri smiles, eyelashes lowering. "Next time, ask me before throwing me into a fight."

Ahh, he loves this man – so much.

"I will, my angel. I'll ask, and I'll think before I act on my instincts." Victor leans in to nuzzle his nose lightly against Yuuri's, delighting in the beautiful flush spreading across the other man's cheeks.

"Haven't you learnt your lesson about false promises?" Yuuri laughs, the clear sound of a soft, ringing bell.

"Cheeky," Victor chuckles, heart so, so full. "You know, I was going to surprise you with a gift tomorrow, but now might be a more appropriate time."

"Gift?" Yuuri tilts his head slightly. "What's the occasion?"

"Just because." Victor beams. "Wait here." Tossing the covers off, he pulls at the cord for the lights up ahead, and speeds into the dining room, where he has hidden the surprise under the kitchen sink.

When he returns, Yuuri is watching him, still smiling in that sweet, shy way that Victor just adores.

"Tada~" Victor lets the delicate material drop as he holds it by the flimsy, white straps.

After going through numerous selections with Christophe, he had settled on a little black number with white lace on the borders – the top translucent and laced with a crisscross pattern of white ribbons down the open center; a frilly, layered mini-skirt completing the bottom.

Yuuri's smile morphs into a befuddled stare. "That's… what is that?"

"A sexy lingerie-style apron!"

"Um," a bright shade of red creeps across Yuuri's face, "I don't think that's for men."

"Nonsense, you'd look stunning."

Slowly, Yuuri sinks under the covers until only his wide, mortified eyes are visible.

"Yuuri?"

"Good night," Yuuri squeaks, turning and tugging the blanket over his head.

"Yuu~ri~ at least try it on? You can wear it while you cook!"

"Good night."

Victor presses the apron to his lips, smiling into the fabric.

He believes in Yuuri, just as he believes Yuuri will come around to his gift.

Eventually.

Notes:

Step one: Google "sexy lingerie apron".
Step two: Imagine Yuuri in one of those things.
Step three: Imagine Victor's face imagining Yuuri in one those things.
Step four: Understand Christophe's need for a cigarette in the department store.

Feel free to squeal with me on tumblr: dreaming-fireflies. tumblr. com (remove the spaces).