Trigger warning: blood, scenes of torture, death and sex
"What the hell do you mean she agreed?!"
Many made the fatal mistake of overlooking his aunt's temper due to it being overshadowed by the powerful explosions of his mother's—they weren't often granted the opportunity to make the same mistake twice. If they somehow managed to evade punishment then they were forced to face the wrath of his mother, who ensured her disrespected soulmate didn't go unavenged.
"You're not going anywhere," Ino continued to seethe before her furious glare snapped to the others of his coven, and she warned, "Tether him to one of you, or imprison him to his room—do something, damnit!"
They wouldn't dare. Mitsuki didn't even need to follow the blonde's line of sight to read into the responses of his coven. Instead, he looked to Gaara and his siblings, the former seemingly impassive though Mitsuki could sense the anger filtering into the air—knew he wasn't mistaken when Temari glanced to him coolly from the corner of her eye. Like his coven, however, she didn't overstep by ordering Gaara around, knowing that he was the more powerful of the two. Regardless of age or experience, they all knew and respected the pecking order.
"Ino-oba," Mitsuki interjected politely just as she opened her mouth to throw out more orders. "Why don't you speak with Mama yourself?"
"Because Sakura clearly isn't in her right mind!"
Daring words that none of the others wanted to say aloud, he could tell by his sweeping glance of the room. The one to appear most intrigued by the slip in composure was Kabuto—the predictable suspect. The rest were uneasy.
"I have to agree, to an extent," Kabuto risked his well-being by suggesting, no doubt emboldened by Ino's outrage. "I have great respect for Sakura-san, but—"
"Think wisely about your next words," warned Kankuro lowly. He moved to stand behind the closed doors to their quarters and tapped an ear. "Wouldn't want to piss off the wrong people now, would you?"
They assumed his words to be about Gaara, who surprisingly played his part by uttering, "I do not take lightly to disloyalty."
For the most part, his coven was clean. None of them stood out as double agents—some were even disbelieving at Kabuto's audacity, it appeared—but Mitsuki was already warned that some knew how to play their parts and lie in wait for the perfect moment to attack.
Naturally, he wanted to trust them. Of course he did—they were his family bonded by magic, and they taught him in his darkest moments that the future wasn't set in stone. They accepted him regardless of who he may be or one day become. Mitsuki wanted to trust that they were genuine in their teachings and encouragements.
However…
Since stepping further into the art of clairvoyancy, Mitsuki found there was a pit in his stomach that was unshakeable. An unsettling sensation of needing to keep his shoulder well-checked. For the longest time, he'd assumed it to be his awareness of his ancestors growing as he progressed in his lessons, but it didn't fit with the feeling he experienced.
Which was precisely why he sought out Sabaku no Gaara—the soulless original who was immune to magic.
If he could learn even the basics of his culture's magic, or find the reason why Gaara was untouchable, then that granted him an ace that his coven knew nothing about. Mitsuki hoped it wouldn't be necessary, though he wasn't about to take the chance either. His mother taught him plenty over the decade and what he'd always admired the most was her survival instincts. They were otherworldly.
"Disloyalty isn't my intention," came Kabuto's placating response. He pushed his glasses further up his nose, but Mitsuki wasn't the only member of the coven to notice he used the cover of the light hitting the lenses to assess the room. More specifically, his attention strayed to the dark objects Anko kept locked away behind several layers of her own magic. "If anything, I'm deeply concerned about Sakura-san."
Temari's eyes narrowed. Had she noticed where his gaze went to, even though it would appear as an ordinary cabinet to those outside of their coven? "She's on vervain."
"Vervain protects against vampirism," he argued with a furrowing brow. At his next words, however, he notably avoided meeting Gaara's eye while insinuating, "It doesn't act as a guard for the heart."
Oh?
Ino's wince told Mitsuki that that was a plausible cause for concern, and he took that moment to try and read the expressions of the originals, though as could only be expected, they offered little. They left him in the dark with the true meaning to their words.
"She allowed the hybrid to be invited in," sighed Guren, and Mitsuki recalled her initial concerns of Naruto's existence. "Who's to say the others won't be?"
Did they mean Uchiha Itachi?
"That's ridiculous," scoffed Karin.
"That bastard won't be stepping foot in this place," Tayuya added. She copied Karin in folding her arms over her chest, and he noted Ino was pleased with their responses. A good sign that he found comfort in.
Knowing his aunt's tells, Mitsuki knew the sudden inspection of her nails to be a cover for whatever expression she wanted to show, so he paid extra mind to try and gauge what she was feeling. "We're a family, right?" she drawled. "Even if Sakura does have a lapse in judgement, we're there to make up for the moment of weakness."
A distant sigh caught Mitsuki's attention, though he had to concentrate on the faint presence to pick up a clearer line of communication. It took a few extra minutes for his form to be revealed, since it was usually something they both had to want—for him, anyway (unless it was special circumstances).
"Purple continues to be her colour," came the fond words of the man who refused to leave her side. "Nobody wears it like she does."
As always, the dark-haired man was entranced by his aunt, and that did come in handy since there was no one who knew her better than him—that included his mother. Communicating with spirits continued to be fairly difficult, but the man was the deceased lover of Ino, and he was open to the connection on the condition that she wasn't told about it. Although it was obvious that he loved his aunt, he wanted her to believe he was at peace so that she could move on and be happy.
They didn't speak often, for Ino's boyfriend only really revealed his presence when he felt she needed some form of comfort or protection. He'd been a regular the past few days, and Mitsuki suspected that to be mostly down to the presence of the ripper who stole their lives. Was he around now because she was worried for Sakura?
"There is no denying her heart is troubled, however, Sakura is too wary to let her guard down," the spirit informed him offhandedly without looking his way. He was too busy taking in the stances of those in the room, stare narrowing fractionally when Yukimaru picked up on his presence and stiffened. "Her feelings for yourself and Ino are her priority. Even before knowing who she was, she risked her life to try and save your aunt's."
Knowing that was a way to ease the tightly wound nerves of those around him, Mitsuki repeated the words, but cursed his naivety when Sai tensed at Ino's immediate response. She looked startled, her blue eyes reading Mitsuki's form closely until she looked around the room quickly.
"You know about that day?" she questioned to the surprise of the others, but her usual composure fell short and Mitsuki could see through the attempt to drag more information out of him.
Yukimaru opened his mouth to likely share that there was a spirit present, however he was intercepted smoothly before Ino even realised he was about to speak. "Mama once said that you both met under tragic circumstances," he lied. Tilting his head slightly, he asked somewhat curiously, "Is that not the case?"
"No, no. That's right," she replied, deflating.
Sai exhaled with regret at the aura of sadness. "It's for the best, beautiful. You will join me one day but for now, your place is here."
The words forced Mitsuki to try and maintain composure—a more difficult task when others continued to watch him closely after the misstep. Was Sai somehow supernatural? Why did he linger when humans typically moved on when they died? Originally, Mitsuki assumed it was to watch over Ino. Now, he wasn't so sure.
"Trust your soulmate," Sai continued to tell her even while beginning to dissipate back behind the veil that kept their worlds from interacting. His hand settled to the pendant resting on her collarbone—an affectionate, comforting touch he often gave when he knew she needed him most. "You know her heart better than anyone."
That had to reach her, the young boy believed. Her delicate touch to the necklace (that he knew to be her daylight jewellery) only seconds later aided in the tension gradually loosening from Ino's shoulders. Did she usually feel Sai's presence, he wondered? Did his words reach her in a spiritual way, like the soothing of her aura perhaps? Mitsuki knew he would need to ask Yukimaru—he was the true clairvoyant of their coven.
"We need to trust Sakura's judgement," Ino unknowingly repeated her deceased boyfriend's words. Her gaze shifted to Gaara's imploringly, fingers continuing to hold onto the pendant like she was seeking strength. "I know I don't need to tell you what it would do to her if anything happened."
To her son, was the unfinished sentence. Mitsuki knew because Temari's hand came to his shoulder. It was the only way to confirm who the subject of the conversation was about without the others in the clan knowing.
"Trust us," Temari murmured in a deadly promise that unnerved some of the others, he noted. "My brother does not take kindly to betrayal."
Blue eyes met his, and Mitsuki offered a smile that had her exhaling harshly and dragging him into a warm embrace.
"Behave yourself," she told him. Unable to resist the comfort and warmth, he returned the hold and shut his eyes. "Call me whenever you need to, even if it's a thousand times in one day. I'll always pick up, got it?"
"Yes, Ino-oba."
"Keep your mama updated too," she pleaded. "This… It's a huge deal, her allowing this."
Yes, he knew that already.
It also let Mitsuki know how deeply she cared for the original who was watching them in the same way he had after seeing their photograph together—curiously, a touch apprehensively.
"I promise," he agreed.
Suna was a bizarre place, but he supposed anywhere that wasn't Konoha would be unusual to him.
The heat was extreme and within moments of leaving the protection of the air conditioned car with its tinted windows, Mitsuki found himself teetering on being overwhelmed by the change in environment. Then there was the sand to contend with, though fortunately for his sake, following the passing of the portcullis, the ground was firm. Still, he was glad he'd listened to his aunt and worn his boots.
They'd parked up directly outside of the palace, and Mitsuki's jaw dropped at the extravagance before him. Their own home was certainly grand, but it didn't hold a candle to Gaara's, which boasted the status of his family in Suna.
Domed turrets were topped with spires that were almost threatening when considering the already looming appearance, but what caught Mitsuki's attention the most was how open it appeared with its archways and huge, uncovered windows. Even with the extremely limited knowledge he had on the clan of original vampires, he was aware of their being introverts. Not quite recluses, but certainly ones for privacy. How strange for them to choose such a setting.
A trembling human rushed to greet them, and naturally, Mitsuki felt his hackles raising at the immediate realisation that he was compelled to serve Gaara. There was no hesitancy to follow commands, no speaking out of place or overstepping boundaries. Then after the short greeting, the man was swiftly sliding into the car they'd arrived in and disappearing. He assumed to park it out of sight so not to mar the picturesque fountain outside the palace (one he was half tempted to jump into as he found himself already drenched in sweat).
"Does he know what you are?"
"Yes."
He wasn't really sure what he was expecting, but receiving such a straightforward response oddly wasn't it—or if it was, then it was lacking. "Why is he compelled?"
"To assure I will not be stabbed in my sleep."
Trust issues. His mother knew how to pick them, it seemed.
Mitsuki tilted his head and followed close on Gaara's heels as they entered the palace that was somehow even more impressive inside. However, what rendered everything else unimportant was the immediate rush of cool air that had him sighing in relief.
"You can't die," Mitsuki pointed out.
A deep inhale told him he was agitating the redhead with the questions.
He kept pushing, too intrigued to care. "How many work for you?"
Everything was white and gold, with tall, decorated ceilings and intricate patterns that appeared sporadically on the otherwise white tiled flooring, typically when holding something extravagant in the spot (such as the base of the stairs, or ornaments, or busts). Gaara stood out sorely in comparison—like a common stranger amongst luxuries that were surely previously owned by royalty. Perhaps once upon a time the leader of Suna lived in the palace, Mitsuki mused.
A humongous chandelier caught his eye as they walked beneath it, but he refused to quicken his pace to rush behind Gaara. Even if they happened to be separated, it wouldn't be impossible seeking him out. There was no overlooking that aura.
While his question was ignored by the original, it was soon answered the further into the near silent palace they walked. Their appearances were few and far between, but they did happen across several compelled humans who averted their eyes when they caught sight of them. They all bowed formally when greeting Gaara, even those who were clearly in the middle of tasks.
"Why do they know what you are?"
Although they were rare since she had enough clansmen to delegate tasks to, the humans who did work for his mother didn't know what she was—not including her beautician, Mitsuki strongly believed. When he enquired about it, Sakura told him it was about protecting the balance and order. That and she didn't want to deal with the chaos and fallout of vampirism being exposed to the world, not when it was already idolised to such a grotesque degree. He had to agree that it was better for the humans to suspect and theorise. Their town was already unusual compared to the ones he saw on the news.
"Why shouldn't they?"
A question with a question—Gaara typically disliked them, he'd quickly come to learn. Why respond in such a way? Was he supposed to dig deeper? "It draws too much attention."
"On the contrary, it keeps them in line."
"So you are the ruler of Suna, then?"
"Most would call us tyrants."
Rightly so. Rather than outwardly agree, Mitsuki asked, "Are there factions like in Konoha?"
There was something unnerving about the smirk he only knew to be there because of a passing vase that allowed him a glimpse of the redhead's reflection, and it reminded him of a recent late night conversation between the adults of his coven that he overheard. Stories of the originals' depravity and how they casually submerged others in their darkness, leaving destruction in their wake simply to let others know we were here.
"There was."
Past tense. "You killed them."
"Yes."
It was perhaps the most direct anyone had ever been with him, and Mitsuki found it as refreshing as it was disturbing. He was by no means innocent and knew more about the world than most adults, but his mother continued to try and shield him from evil. Despite being who he was, she wished for him to experience a typical childhood—well, used to. The run in with a recently awakened chosen one perhaps five years ago now prevented them from ever stepping foot out of their home as mother and son ever again.
"That unnerves you," stated Gaara dispassionately.
Mitsuki blinked in surprise before insisting, "Not really."
"You cannot lie to a being who can hear your nervous heartbeat."
Noted. "I was thinking about something else."
"Oh? Am I boring you?"
There was something odd about Sabaku no Gaara. A likeableness that seemed grossly out of place considering the atrocities he happily committed. It was what he assumed his mother to be fond of—that sense of unconditional companionship, the security in his darkness. There was no denying his mother was a brutal woman to those who opposed her, but he knew that her healing heart ached to be taken care of in a way he knew he and Ino were unable to. She needed someone to embrace her own darkness; a lover who cherished every side of her.
Well, that was what Karin said, anyway. She seemed to be the closet romantic in their coven.
"My mother is never so direct," Mitsuki said, deciding to be honest. He noticed Gaara's subtle slowing pace and ever so slight head tilt, telling him that he had his undivided attention. "She hasn't been in a long while."
"Something happened to change that."
"A hunter—chosen one."
Either he was always mentally a step ahead, or he had utmost faith in his mother's abilities, for Gaara didn't suspect that she'd landed herself in trouble with them. No, the flash of displeasure that snapped through the air alerted him that Gaara blamed the hunters entirely (with good reason for they were a major pain in the ass, as Tayuya would say).
"I was caught in the crossfire," he explained without being prompted and before he realised it, he was walking in step with Gaara, who appeared in deep thought. Being so used to their lifestyle now, it didn't occur to him that his blasé recollection intrigued the original. "Ino-oba says that Mama would have been overcome with maternal rage and fear—that's why she was injured instead."
Something jolted within the redhead. Barely even noticeable, and it would have escaped Mitsuki's attention, had it not been for the reaction of a staff member who paled and busied themselves with cleaning the ancient armour on display.
"Five years ago," Gaara seemed to recall with a tone that brought all the hairs on Mitsuki's body to attention. Was it malice, fury? "Sakura was near death."
"She had to feed to survive. I made sure she did," he continued, nodding. "Ino-oba was furious."
The original came to an abrupt halt and glared down at him from the corner of his eye. "Your mother was right. You are an audacious child."
He smiled. "She taught me well, right?"
They didn't immediately seek out the ancient relic, and for that, Mitsuki was grateful. It gifted him with the chance to fully take in his surroundings now that the awe was fading away like his bathwater when he pulled the plug to drain it.
It was quite the switch up being waited on hand and foot. They were essentially treated like royalty, and after having his measurements taken, the clan's personal shopper was sent on their way to retrieve clothes fitting of the desert. Having been told to pack light without knowing what to pack in the first place, Mitsuki didn't complain. Within just an hour, the guest room he was shown to was filled with everything he'd need and more.
He'd spent the past thirty minutes in the bath, both relishing in finally being alone (or as alone as one could be when staying with a vampire with superhearing) and attempting to keep warm as the temperature plummeted along with the sun. The entire bathroom was dripping with condensation and after spitting out the mouthful of toothpaste, Mitsuki was required to wipe down the mirror to assess his appearance. It was with a squint that he leaned closer to make sure there was no residue around his mouth, but that was when movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention.
"Why is there a child here?"
The brunette was horrified at the sight of him, just as he was of her. It was rare for spirits to force a connection without him agreeing to one—he was still learning, after all.
A vampire who met a tragic end, Mitsuki could instantly read while slowly turning to face her directly, and he swallowed at the terror that caused her to tremble.
"Run, child," she urged with a desperation that clawed at him. "The monsters of this palace will kill you if you stay."
Some spirits were pleasant. Others left a bitter taste in his mouth. Before his lessons on clairvoyancy with Yukimaru and Guren, he used to be fearful of the spirits attempting to reach out to him. However, Mitsuki was torn on how to feel about the one before him. The goosebumps breaking out across his skin warned him to be wary, and her intense emotions bore down on his heart. It was childish, he knew, but a part of him naturally felt spooked.
"Please," she begged. "I see so much here on the other side. Please, I cannot bear to witness the death of a child."
"Then leave," he responded in a choked whisper, unable to raise his voice any louder.
Definitely spooked.
Was it the overall atmosphere of the palace, perhaps? That instinctive warning to turn tail? All Mitsuki could envision in that moment was the compelled humans forced to wait on Gaara and his siblings, and belatedly, it dawned on him how their jobs likely ended.
No wonder the palace was so cold.
"I wish I could," came her equally broken whisper. "You can, however. Run while you can."
If the spirit really had witnessed as much as she claimed, then surely she knew that outrunning an original was borderline impossible—for an ordinary child. Then again, ordinary or not, Sabaku no Gaara was no typical original. Somehow, he was immune to magic and possessed a sharpened hunting skill that allowed him to continue sensing magic despite being cut off from the earth following his transformation. Mitsuki highly doubted even Orochimaru could escape someone like Gaara.
"I don't want to."
"Why?" she demanded, horrified. The step forward was instinctive and purely down to her vampire side's heightened emotions, but it still had Mitsuki giving ground and cursing his luck when his back bumped into the counter. "Do you know what he will do to you?"
Nothing. Sabaku no Gaara was devoted to his mother and wanted to protect her at all costs. That was why he was agreeing to training him, wasn't it? That was why he regularly fed her his blood and stuck around even though that meant going to war with the Uchiha Clan—an eternal war for him, even if she died. Why would he cause her the worst heartache imaginable by harming her son?
"If you will not leave then I will force you to," Mitsuki said with more strength that time.
Brown eyes widened and she shot forward. "No, don't send me back, please! I just wanted to warn you…!"
He shut his eyes and summoned the little magical energy he'd replenished to shove the deceased vampire back behind the veil, grimacing at the bone deep sorrow and insanity that coursed through him when she tried to touch him before disappearing. At least she didn't possess enough intensity to be tangible, but Mitsuki still shuddered at the disgusting sensation of the vampire passing through him.
What left him even more uneasy, however, was belatedly realising the palace was likely teeming with spirits.
He was in for a long night.
As he'd expected: sleep that night was impossible.
Unlike during the day when the palace was almost silent save from the movements of the humans performing their roles, the night brought forth the spirits trapped there. Whenever Mitsuki was on the verge of drifting off, he found himself being hounded by the Sabaku Clan's victims, who were all extremely vocal and desperate to reach out to him.
They seemed to worsen the coldness of the desert during the night, and he wondered if it was the madness that often tinged their intentions that left him unsettled. Soon enough they were shouting over one another, leaning over his bed, and demanding he took notice of them. With his magical energy continuing to refill, he was too weary to banish them back behind the veil.
One managed to grab at his calf, and Mitsuki jolted as the spirit's harrowing end shot through him. He was submerged in agony and fear, mind filled with blood and mangled flesh and the haunting frozen expressions of the dead loved ones Temari and Kankuro feasted on. Their depravity left Mitsuki trembling and sweating despite the freezing temperature, and he could taste the evening meal returning, clogging up his throat.
"Run," they each pleaded, their cries immobilising Mitsuki. "Run while you still can."
Another grabbed at him, taking advantage of the unstable connection to bombard Mitsuki with their memories, and he finally released a strangled cry that didn't fully register with him.
His mother.
His mother killed her.
Trapped in the form of the spirit, Mitsuki stared up at his own mother helplessly and clawed at her leg. Those heels she so adored—one came to his throat, pressing down with an agonising slowness that alerted him it was purely to be cruel. To establish power and dominance.
"M-Mama—"
"I can help end this for you."
That voice was all too familiar, and it didn't take much effort to spot his ancestor lurking amongst the spirits in the overcrowded room. Even as they continued to fight for his attention and yelled and pushed forward, there was no overlooking Orochimaru who stood calmly within the chaos. He was impossible to lose in the crowd.
"Just ask for my help, child."
He gritted his teeth. "N-No."
His long haired ancestor tsked. "You would rather view your mother in such a light?"
Mitsuki had long since accepted that his mother was a vampire. She had to feed in order to survive—he'd personally made sure she'd fed in the past. It was… He didn't…
"Mitsuki-kun," Orochimaru pressed, and smiled at the strangled gasp as more spirits proved powerful enough to grab at him. "There is no shame in accepting my help."
No. He wasn't mentally strong enough to avoid possession. He—
The door to his room burst open, flooding the space with light until Sabaku no Gaara's silhouette darkened the doorway, his shadow creeping across the ground towards them. His presence terrified those he'd previously killed who clung to Mitsuki for safety now, and it was with the fear he evoked that he unknowingly forced them back behind the veil that separated their worlds. He even heard Orochimaru hissing his hatred for the unaware original. But Mitsuki was too grateful to be spared to care, and he bolted upright in his bed the moment he was able to move again, shaking and panting.
"Sleep paralysis?"
All he could offer was an unsteady shake of his head.
Gaara remained in the doorway. Waiting him out.
Weakly, thickly, he told him, "Y-Your home… It's very crowded."
Something about the words, or perhaps the insinuations, prompted Gaara to take a closer look of his form, had him straightening. "You can sense their pasts."
Unable to voice some of the horrendous ends he'd been forced to endure, he informed him instead, "Orochimaru is trying to take advantage of the situation."
"Oh?" came his intrigued response. "You chose to persevere over channelling him?"
Of course, Mitsuki wanted to snap grumpily. But he was too relieved to be free of the demanding spirits. Attempting to shake off their deaths and the fact his mother partook in a few of them, he stood on unsteady feet and rolled out his shoulders to try and loosen the tension in his chest.
But his first step proved to be too much too soon, and he was only partly thankful for Gaara's swift reaction of vamping forward and catching him just as the ground flew towards him.
"What are you trying to do?"
"I can't sleep," Mitsuki told him simply.
A pause. The narrowing of his eyes on his. "It's a common occurrence."
Ah, that was right. His mother had teased him about the dark circles on the day he officially met Gaara. "You can't talk," came the natural snap back.
Rather than being annoyed by the defiance, Gaara surprised him by snorting in amusement and releasing him. He took a step back and appraised him with a look Mitsuki strongly suspected to be akin to respect, though he wasn't going to be arrogant enough to assume it. He knew and found a degree of assurance knowing he was untouchable due to being Sakura's child, but respect was earned. He had to prove himself to Gaara.
"Fine," the redhead allowed and turned to the door. "But put a robe on. You are too sheltered for life in my desert."
He pouted.
"This…"
Gaara was silent as Mitsuki approached the ancient bust of a woman's shoulders and head.
After walking and descending stone stairs for what felt like an eternity (and secretly being grateful for the robe since it was freezing), they finally entered an area that was untouched by man but maintained by a powerful magic that sung to Mitsuki. Not quite luring him in but more so soothing the negativity that clung to him while staying at the palace—like a lullaby, weirdly enough.
It was the bust, he soon discovered. The gentleness guided him towards it without Gaara needing to assist Mitsuki in finding the relic. Memories of being tucked into bed swarmed him, and he found great comfort recalling the protectiveness in his own mother's embrace. Soft singing filled his mind, along with funny children's books and hot chocolate.
He only distantly noticed that Gaara didn't step further into the safe haven that was illuminated by eternally burning candles (lit by magic, of course), but he did surprisingly relax.
A typical but notably ancient lair with bare stone walls that were cold to the touch, with one in particular decorated by symbols that were unrecognisable to him. The height of them had him pondering whether they were engraved by a child, and he spared a glance towards the original at the possibilities of who could have drawn them, considering this was still within his palace grounds.
Had it been his home all along? Was he really royalty?
Mitsuki reached out once he was in front of the motherly bust, gaze drawn to the amulet that emitted a protectiveness that scared off the spirits once and for all.
The things he could accomplish with such a guardian on his shoulder. The people he could protect. The safety he could provide. The bitter war between the clans could end permanently, sparing the lives that would be dragged into it.
"So powerful," he whispered unintentionally, unable to resist the comfort he bathed in that insisted he opened his heart. His golden gaze shifted to the bust that first called to him and he asked, "May I lend your power?"
Acceptance came in the form of Sabaku no Gaara finally entering the lair, though he paused in passing the altar to run a hand along the space in front of the photographs and eternal flames. Even he was affected by the intentions of the witches who once practiced there, Mitsuki noticed, and he supposed that was why Gaara chose to wait outside until he passed whatever the test was. He didn't care to ask how he passed or what the test even was.
Only a descendant could retrieve the amulet, Mitsuki sensed when his hand hovered over the necklace and sensed the layer of magic surrounding it. It was protected by a spell that prevented it from falling into the wrong hands—
No, he realised with a pleasant start when Gaara began a quiet chant in a tongue he didn't recognise. He could not practice magic, meaning that the amulet he soon lifted from the bust with a tenderness he was certain only an extremely select few had ever witnessed, was an heirloom talisman.
"This was your mother's," he said in surprise. That explained the feelings of comfort and safety it wrapped him up in like a motherly embrace.
Teal eyes met his calmly, and Gaara responded, "This talisman protected me throughout my human life. My mother infused it with her magic when it was discovered a demon attached itself to mine." That was all he was going to say on the matter, Mitsuki was upset to discover, but just as he opened his mouth to demand more answers, Gaara placed the chain and heavy amulet around his neck and told him, "As long as you continue to wear this, then you will be under her protection."
It was…
His golden gaze shifted to the photographs Gaara briefly greeted, and he immediately noticed that the two figures were twins—legendary in the sense that they possessed a connection other witches could never hope to achieve, even after years of consistently channelling the same person. They didn't need to share talismans to strengthen the channelling, and it occurred to Mitsuki in that moment that the amulet he now wore likely belonged to the twins.
It was the ultimate protection.
"You don't come down here often," Mitsuki wasn't worried to point out.
Gaara wouldn't explain why, he knew. But the warmth emanating from the amulet resting against his chest promised acceptance, and he wondered if he feared the reactions of his mother and uncle.
After all, Gaara and his siblings were oftentimes called the ultimate predators. They were brutal in the atrocities they committed and were so callous that people believed them to be without humanity. Called them true monsters. It made sense for the trio to be against facing their kind-hearted loved ones—their startling opposites.
"There are grimoires here that will require translating," the redhead said instead, shocking Mitsuki further.
From what he'd heard, Sabaku no Gaara never backed down, yet in the presence of his mother, he did. Not so much submissive, it took him a minute to figure out, but more so respectful of the woman who birthed him. Deeply respectful.
Before Gaara could continue, Mitsuki asked tentatively, "Have they ever left this spot before?" A nod. "Since your transformation?"
"…No."
"Will it affect you or your siblings?"
Silence.
However…
"That's as close as you'll get to a yes, kid," Temari informed him as she interrupted their conversation.
Although the true feelings were already obvious to Mitsuki, he'd wanted to hear them from the stoic original for himself. To know the secure spot his mother possessed in Gaara's heart.
It seemed that brief tick in his eyebrows was the only tell he would discover.
That tick was back, but even if he was already regretting the decision to pass on his mother's talisman, Gaara didn't show it. He was seemingly at peace with the decision of sharing it with him.
"Why?"
"You are Sakura's greatest love, and I was one of hers," he shocked him by admitting in the safety of his mother and uncle's lair. His gaze moved to the photographs, more specifically his mother's, and he added like the words were engraved in his mind, "A mother's love is more powerful than any spell."
He was uneasy with the openness forced upon him that rivalled that of compulsion, Mitsuki read in his movements. Another benefit of the amulet, perhaps? Would it apply only to the descendants of the witch it initially belonged to, or everyone within the vicinity?
Taking a leaf out of his mother's book (since he knew better than to push too hard too soon), he cut through the tension by asking cheekily, "I don't have to call you Dad, do I?"
"Do it and you will discover firsthand the limitations of the healing properties of vampire blood."
He smiled widely.
A/N - An (early, since I'm still not sure of our plans haha) Halloween special! I thought this story was only a year old, but turns out it turns 3 on the 31st.
What do you guys think of this switch up of Mitsuki's and Gaara's characters? I'm still trying to get a feel of writing in Mitsuki's POV (and wanting him to be a little darker to fit the story) so I'm hoping the chapter isn't too disjointed or lacking in description.