AN-1: Greetings Everyone and welcome to a differently written story by yours truly. It'll in the Proper English, because I got to use a Grammar service but don't expect this to the norm if you read my other stories. This is my real first My Hero Academia story, as I like Momo Yaoyorozu in a few stories that are not posted but may happen. In this story Momo is normal person, who is a writer and published a few things but nothing to make her famous. One night in a bar she meets a man and offers a job, this job will change her future. This will be a Vampire story, I will have our favorite Vampire Mommy but with her backstory changed and not as tall. There will be mention violence, description of sex and won't be long. So enjoy, review, like, follow but also congratulations to me for being on this site for Ten years. I was inspired by the likes of NeonZangetsu, Sariniste and The Power of Three '95. They inspired to start writing with my first story a Legacy of War. It was actually NeonZangetsu who inspired me to pair my OC Mitsuomi Kiriyu with Isane Kotetsu. They had a story worth Isane and Ichigo where Isane attempted to gain her Bankai. Again, Thank you for your support and stopping by the Den of Champblaze.
Disclaimer: I Own NOTHING
Chapter I - The Meeting and The Story Begins.
Momo Yaoyorozu, a striking woman in her late twenties, sipped her whiskey. Clad in a sleeveless, form-fitting crimson dress that hugged her curves, she exuded an air of understated elegance. Her raven tresses cascaded over her bare shoulders, framing delicate features with high cheekbones and full, pouty lips that curved into a pensive frown. The warm liquid offered a momentary respite from the chill that had seeped into her bones. The dimly lit bar was a cozy haven, its atmosphere enhanced by the gentle melodies emanating from the piano in the corner. As she savored the smoky notes of her drink, her dark eyes drifted towards the pianist, whose deft fingers danced across the keys with practiced grace.
"Pardon me, but might I join you?"
The smooth, velvety voice broke through Momo's reverie, and she turned to find a striking figure standing beside her. Piercing steel-blue eyes, framed by slicked-back raven locks, held a depth that seemed to span centuries. His impeccably tailored suit, perfectly accentuating his lean, lithe but slight muscular frame, hinted at a life of privilege, training and refinement. Chiseled features, sharp and angular, were softened by the barest hint of a enigmatic smile that played upon full, sensuous lips. An aura of mystery and power enveloped him, commanding attention with his mere presence.
"Of course," Momo replied, intrigued by the stranger's presence.
He slid onto the stool beside her, his movements fluid and purposeful. "Mitsuomi Kiriyu," he introduced himself, extending a hand.
Momo placed her hand in his, noting the coolness of his touch. "Momo Yaoyorozu."
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Yaoyorozu," Mitsuomi said, his lips curving into an enigmatic smile. "I couldn't help but notice you seemed... pensive."
Momo shrugged, taking another sip of her drink. "A writer's mind is rarely at rest."
Mitsuomi's eyes gleamed with interest. "A writer, you say? How intriguing. Perhaps you might be interested in a proposition..."
"A proposition?" Momo echoed; her curiosity piqued. Mitsuomi's steel-blue eyes twinkled, and he leaned closer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Indeed, Miss Yaoyorozu. I find myself in need of a writer – one with a keen eye for detail and an insatiable thirst for the extraordinary. You see, I have a story to tell, a tale that spans centuries and continents, filled with triumphs and tragedies beyond your wildest imaginings."
Momo's breath caught in her throat as she studied his features more closely. Beneath the warm glow of the bar's lighting, his skin seemed to possess an ethereal pallor, and his lips curved into a subtle smile, revealing the barest hint of sharp canines. A frisson of excitement rippled through her, mingling with a tinge of apprehension.
"What kind of story are we talking about?" she asked, her voice betraying a hint of trepidation.
Mitsuomi's smile widened, his eyes glittering with promise. "One that will challenge everything you thought you knew about the world, Miss Yaoyorozu. A story that will unlock the doors to realms beyond your wildest dreams."
He reached out, his cool fingers brushing against the back of her hand, sending a shiver down her spine. "Are you prepared to step into the shadows and confront the truth behind the veil of reality?"
Momo swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. Every fiber of her being screamed caution, and yet, the allure of the unknown proved irresistible. She found herself nodding, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes... I'm ready."
A flicker of satisfaction danced across Mitsuomi's features, and he reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, retrieving a sleek black card. With a deft motion, he slid it across the bar towards her. "Excellent. Then I suggest we continue this conversation in a more... private setting." His lips curved into a mysterious smile as Momo's eyes fell upon the embossed address.
"Meet me at this location tomorrow evening, after sunset," he instructed, his voice low and compelling. "And, Miss Yaoyorozu, do ensure you come alone."
Momo's fingers trembled as she traced the raised lettering, her mind whirling with a thousand questions. Yet, before she could voice a single one, Mitsuomi had risen from his seat, his movements fluid and graceful.
"Until tomorrow, then," he murmured, offering her a courteous nod before turning and disappearing into the shadows that cloaked the bar's exit.
Momo stared after him, her heart thundering in her chest. A part of her longed to call out, to demand answers to the myriad of mysteries that swirled around this enigmatic stranger. But another part – the part that thrilled at the promise of adventure and the unknown – urged her to remain silent, to embrace the uncertainty and allow the story to unfold.
As she drained the last of her whiskey, the warmth of the liquid did little to quell the fire that had been ignited within her. Tomorrow, she would confront the truth that Mitsuomi had promised to unveil, and with it, the boundaries of her reality would be forever altered.
Momo spent the following day consumed by a whirlwind of anticipation and preparation. She scoured the internet for any information she could find on Mitsuomi Kiriyu, her curiosity piqued by the enigmatic stranger's promise of a story that would shatter her perception of reality. To her surprise, Mitsuomi's name was linked to a vast network of companies spanning industries and continents. From cutting-edge technology firms developing groundbreaking innovations in artificial intelligence and quantum computing to real estate empires boasting some of the most iconic skyscrapers and luxury properties across the globe, his influence seemed to permeate every corner of the industrialized world.
Yet, despite the staggering breadth of his business ventures and the whispers of unimaginable wealth, little was truly known about the man himself. Momo scoured countless news articles, financial reports, and corporate biographies, but Mitsuomi's background remained shrouded in mystery. There were no records of his childhood or education, no stories of humble beginnings or family ties. It was as if he had materialized from the shadows, a enigmatic figure weaving an intricate tapestry of success and influence without revealing the slightest hint of his origins or motivations. The more Momo delved into Mitsuomi's empire, the deeper the enigma became. Whispers of unconventional business practices and unorthodox methods swirled through the hallowed halls of power, but no one dared to speak openly about the elusive magnate. It was as if an unspoken pact of silence had been forged, a veil of discretion shielding Mitsuomi's true nature from prying eyes.
Undeterred, Momo's thirst for knowledge only grew stronger, fueled by the tantalizing promise of a story that would shatter the boundaries of her reality. She pored over financial records and corporate filings, searching for any clue, any breadcrumb that might lead her closer to unraveling the mystery that surrounded Mitsuomi Kiriyu. As the hours ticked by, Momo's mind raced with a torrent of questions. Who was this Mitsuomi Kiriyu, truly? What secrets did he harbor, and what extraordinary tale did he have to share? She gathered her equipment meticulously, ensuring her laptop was fully charged and her microphone was in pristine condition, ready to capture every detail of the impending revelation. When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the city, Momo found herself standing before the imposing edifice of a towering skyscraper. The sleek lines and gleaming glass façade exuded an air of power and exclusivity, befitting the address on Mitsuomi's card. With a deep breath, she stepped through the revolving doors and approached the reception desk, her heart pounding in her chest. Behind the immaculately polished marble counter sat a striking young woman with porcelain features and sleek, raven tresses pulled back into a tight chignon. Her name tag read 'Akiko,' and she regarded Momo with a polite, well-practiced smile that barely concealed a hint of curiosity in her piercing onyx eyes.
"Good evening, miss," Akiko greeted, her voice a melodious lilt. "How may I be of assistance?"
Momo withdrew the sleek black card from her clutch, sliding it across the polished countertop with a trembling hand. "I'm here to meet Mitsuomi Kiriyu."
For a fraction of a second, Akiko's composure wavered, her eyes widening imperceptibly before she regained her practiced poise. With deft keystrokes, she tapped a few commands into her computer, then inclined her head in a respectful gesture.
"Of course, Miss Yaoyorozu. Please, take the private elevator to the penthouse suite. You are expected." Akiko's voice remained polished and professional, betraying no hint of the curiosity that burned behind her obsidian gaze as she summoned the elevator with the press of a discreet button.
Momo's pulse quickened as she followed Akiko's directions, the elevator whisking her upwards with breathtaking speed. As the doors slid open, she found herself in a lavishly appointed foyer, the air rich with the scent of sandalwood and the faintest hint of something earthy, almost primal.
"Welcome, Miss Yaoyorozu," a familiar voice purred from the shadows. Mitsuomi emerged, his pale features cast in sharp relief by the flickering flames of the fireplace. "I trust your journey was uneventful?"
Momo nodded, her throat suddenly dry. "Yes, thank you."
As she stepped into the opulent foyer, her eyes were immediately drawn to the vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate moldings and the gleaming marble floors that reflected the warm glow of the chandeliers. The air was rich with the scent of sandalwood, mingled with the faintest hint of something earthy, almost primal.
Mitsuomi gestured towards a grand hallway, its walls lined with exquisite works of art and tapestries that seemed to whisper tales of bygone eras. The plush carpet muffled their footsteps as they made their way towards the adjacent room, the shadows dancing across the walls, casting an ethereal ambiance.
"Then please, make yourself comfortable. The tale I have to share with you is one that demands an open mind and an unwavering spirit," Mitsuomi's lips curved into an enigmatic smile as they entered the lavishly appointed living room.
As she followed him into the dimly lit living room, Momo's senses were enveloped by the rich aroma of aged leather and the faint musk of candle smoke. The flickering flames from the fireplace cast dancing shadows across the plush furnishings, creating an intimate ambiance. Mitsuomi moved with fluid grace, settling into a luxurious armchair upholstered in deep burgundy velvet. With a subtle gesture, he beckoned Momo to take a seat on the adjacent chaise lounge, its cushions inviting her to sink into their depths.
The room exuded an air of opulence, with intricate carvings adorning the furniture and heavy drapes framing the floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a tantalizing glimpse of the city skyline beyond. Momo's fingers traced the supple leather armrest, her senses heightened by the anticipation of the tale Mitsuomi had promised to unveil.
"I must confess, Mr. Kiriyu, my curiosity has been piqued by your... intriguing proposition," Momo began, her voice steady despite the fluttering of anticipation in her chest.
Mitsuomi's steel-blue eyes glittered in the flickering firelight, his gaze unwavering. "Indeed, Miss Yaoyorozu. The story I am about to share with you is one that defies the boundaries of conventional wisdom and challenges the very foundations of reality as you know it."
"But before we delve into the depths of this extraordinary tale, I must warn you – once you cross the threshold into the realm of truth, there is no turning back. Are you prepared to confront the shadows that lurk beyond the veil of ignorance?"
Momo's heart raced with anticipation; her curiosity piqued by Mitsuomi's enigmatic words. She nodded, setting up her laptop and microphone, ready to capture every detail of the tale that was about to unfold.
"I'm ready," Momo said, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her stomach.
Mitsuomi's lips curled into a faint smile, his steel-blue eyes glinting with a hint of amusement. "Very well, Miss Yaoyorozu. Let us begin."
Momo pressed the record button on her microphone, her voice steady despite the flutter of anticipation in her chest. "I'm Momo Yaoyorozu, and I'm here with Mitsuomi Kiriyu."
Mitsuomi's lips curled into a faint smile, his steel-blue eyes glinting with a hint of amusement. "Very well, Miss Yaoyorozu. Let us begin."
He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers beneath his chin as the firelight danced across his chiseled features. "The tale I am about to share with you is one that spans centuries, weaving a tapestry of mystery, intrigue, and the eternal struggle between light and darkness."
Momo hung onto his every word, her fingers poised over the keyboard, ready to capture the narrative as it unfolded.
"My story begins in Wallachia, 1431, with my birth as Vlad Dracul III," Mitsuomi said, his voice taking on a haunting quality. "My father, Vlad Dracul II, was a member of the Order of the Dragon, a society sworn to protect Christianity against the Ottoman Empire."
Momo's fingers flew across the keyboard, her eyes never leaving Mitsuomi's face, transfixed by the tale he was weaving.
"As a young prince, I witnessed the brutal realities of war and the cruelties inflicted upon my people by the Ottoman invaders. My elder brother, Mircea, was a fierce warrior who fought alongside our father, his sword ever ready to defend our homeland. My younger brother, Radu, was still but a child, his eyes wide with fear as he watched the Ottoman forces ravage our lands.
It was during those dark times that my father, Vlad Dracul II, made a decision that would forever alter the course of our lives. Fearing for our safety, he sent Radu and me to Edirne, in northwest Turkey, to serve as hostages to the Ottoman Sultan Murad II. It was a desperate attempt to secure an alliance and protect our homeland, but it would come at a terrible cost."
Momo's fingers danced across the keyboard, capturing Mitsuomi's haunting words with rapt attention. "The Sultan, Murad II, treated me with cruelty," Mitsuomi continued, a dark shadow passing over his features. "Though he found my long, flowing hair and delicate features pleasing to the eye, his affection was twisted and perverse. He would stroke my tresses and caress my face, whispering praises in one breath and hurling degradations in the next."
Mitsuomi's jaw tightened, his steel-blue eyes smoldering with barely contained rage. "He took pleasure in humiliating me, subjecting me to unspeakable torments, both physical and psychological. His guards would beat me mercilessly, their fists and whips leaving my body a canvas of bruises and lacerations."
He paused, his gaze distant, as if reliving the horrors of those days. "The Sultan delighted in watching me suffer, reveling in my pain as if it were the sweetest of wines. He would force me to kneel before him, mocking my noble lineage and reveling in my degradation."
Momo's fingers trembled as she typed, her heart aching for the young prince who had endured such cruelties at the hands of his captor.
"Yet, through it all, I refused to break," Mitsuomi said, his voice laced with a steely determination. "No matter how brutal the beatings, no matter how vile the humiliations, I clung to my pride, my spirit unwavering in the face of the Sultan's depravity."
He leaned forward, his steel-blue eyes burning with intensity. "In those moments, I vowed to one day exact my revenge upon the Sultan and his ilk, to make them pay tenfold for the suffering they had inflicted upon me and my people."
Momo could almost feel the weight of Mitsuomi's words, the depth of his hatred for the Ottoman oppressors simmering beneath the surface.
"The Sultan's obsession with my appearance only fueled my determination," Mitsuomi continued, his lips curling into a mirthless smile. "He saw me as a prize, a beautiful creature to be possessed and defiled. But little did he know, the fire burning within me would one day consume him and all he held dear."
Momo's eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest as she imagined the atrocities Mitsuomi must have faced. She didn't dare interrupt, allowing him to continue his harrowing tale.
"In 1448, after my father's death, I was placed on the throne of Wallachia," Mitsuomi said, his voice laced with bitterness. "But my reign was short-lived. In 1451, I was forced off the throne, a mere pawn in the political machinations of the Ottoman Empire."
Momo's fingers flew across the keyboard, capturing every word, every nuance of Mitsuomi's narrative. She could sense the pain and anguish that lay beneath his stoic demeanor, a manifestation of the horrors he had witnessed firsthand.
"During those tumultuous years, I vowed to protect my people from the cruelties of the Ottoman invaders," Mitsuomi continued, his steel-blue eyes burning with intensity. "It was in the year 1452 when fate intervened, and I crossed paths with a man who would forever change the course of my existence – Janos Hunyadi, the renowned Hungarian military leader."
Momo's fingers danced across the keyboard, her eyes fixed on Mitsuomi, hanging on his every word.
"Janos Hunyadi was a formidable ally against the Ottoman Empire, and our shared goals forged an unbreakable bond between us." Mitsuomi's voice took on a wistful tone. "It was through him that I met my first wife, Illya, a woman of unparalleled beauty and grace."
He paused, a faint smile playing on his lips as he reminisced about days long gone. "Illya was a Hungarian noblewoman, her spirit as fierce as the flames that danced in her emerald eyes. From the moment we met, I knew she was destined to be mine."
Momo could almost envision the scene, Mitsuomi's words painting a vivid picture in her mind's eye.
"Our courtship was a whirlwind of passion and intrigue," Mitsuomi continued. "Illya shared my thirst for adventure and my hatred for the Ottoman oppressors. Together, we devised daring plans to strike back against our enemies, our love fueling our determination to protect our lands and our people."
Momo's fingers flew across the keyboard, capturing the intensity of Mitsuomi's tale, the love and devotion he felt for his first wife palpable in his words.
"Alas, our happiness was short-lived," Mitsuomi said, his voice tinged with sorrow. "In the midst of our battles against the Ottoman forces, Illya was gravely wounded, her life slipping away before my very eyes."
He paused, his gaze distant, reliving the anguish of that fateful day. "As she lay dying in my arms, Illya made me promise to never surrender, to continue fighting for our cause until my last breath."
Momo's heart ached for the pain Mitsuomi must have endured, the loss of his beloved wife a burden he had carried for centuries.
"And so, with a heavy heart, I vowed to honor Illya's final wish," Mitsuomi said, his steel-blue eyes burning with renewed determination. "From that day forward, my quest for vengeance against the Ottoman Empire became an all-consuming obsession, a fire that burned within me, fueling my every action, my every decision."
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Momo's fingers paused over the keyboard, her gaze fixed on Mitsuomi's face, entranced by the intensity of his words. "What did you do?" she asked, her voice hushed.
Mitsuomi's expression darkened, his jaw tensing. "I did what was necessary to protect my people," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I became the man history speaks of – Vlad the Impaler."
Momo's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. She had heard the tales of Vlad the Impaler's brutality, the gruesome methods he employed to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies.
Mitsuomi seemed to sense her apprehension, for he leaned forward, his steel-blue eyes holding her gaze captive. "Do not be alarmed, Miss Yaoyorozu. My actions, though harsh, were driven by a deep sense of duty and a fierce love for my homeland."
Momo swallowed hard, nodding slowly as she tried to process the weight of his words.
"The Ottoman invaders were merciless," Mitsuomi continued, his voice taking on a hard edge. "They pillaged our villages, slaughtered our people, and showed no mercy to women and children. I could not stand idly by and allow such atrocities to continue."
He leaned back in his chair, a haunted look flickering across his features. "I employed tactics that would make even the bravest of souls tremble – impaling my enemies on stakes, leaving their bodies to rot as a warning to those who dared defy me."
Momo's fingers hovered over the keyboard, her mind reeling from the vivid imagery Mitsuomi's words conjured. She could almost smell the stench of death, hear the agonized screams of his victims.
"I know my actions were brutal, Miss Yaoyorozu," Mitsuomi said, his voice softening ever so slightly. "But in those dark times, brutality was the only language our enemies understood. I became a living embodiment of their worst fears, a force to be reckoned with, a name that would be etched into the annals of history."
He paused, his gaze growing distant, as if he were reliving those harrowing moments. "And yet, even as I struck terror into the hearts of my foes, my people revered me as a protector, a guardian against the onslaught of the Ottoman Empire."
Momo's fingers began typing once more, capturing the raw intensity of Mitsuomi's words, the duality of his nature – a ruthless warrior and a beloved leader.
"The decades passed, and my reign as Vlad the Impaler became the stuff of legend," Mitsuomi continued, his voice taking on a wistful tone. "By 1476, my battles with the Ottoman Empire had taken a heavy toll, and I sought refuge in the monastery at Snagov, hoping to find solace in the teachings of the priests."
Momo's fingers danced across the keyboard, her eyes fixed on Mitsuomi's face, hanging on his every word.
"Little did I know, my visit to Snagov would mark the beginning of a new, eternal chapter in my life," he said, a somber expression crossing his features. "The monastery was a trap, set by the very Ottoman forces I had fought so fiercely against."
Mitsuomi's steel-blue eyes darkened, a flicker of rage igniting within their depths. "They ambushed me, their blades slicing through my flesh, my blood staining the sacred ground." His voice grew low and menacing as he recounted the treacherous attack. "I fought back with every ounce of strength I possessed, my sword clashing against theirs, the air filled with the clash of steel and the cries of the fallen."
Mitsuomi paused, his jaw tightening as he relived the memory. "They were skilled warriors, but my fury knew no bounds. I cut through their ranks, my blade a whirlwind of death, leaving a trail of bodies in my wake." His eyes narrowed, his gaze intense. "Three of their finest soldiers fell by my hand, their lifeblood spilling onto the hallowed ground of the monastery."
Despite the carnage, Mitsuomi's voice carried a hint of remorse. "It was a brutal battle, one that should never have taken place within the sanctity of those sacred walls. But my survival instinct overruled all else, and I fought with the ferocity of a man possessed, determined to avenge the betrayal that had befallen me."
Momo's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding as she imagined the brutal scene unfolding before her.
"As I lay there, my life slipping away, a priest approached me," Mitsuomi continued, his voice low and haunting. "His eyes burned with a fierce intensity, and his words echoed through the monastery, cursing me for the atrocities I had committed."
He leaned forward, his gaze piercing Momo's soul. "'You shall be doomed to wander this world, incorrupt and entire,' the priest proclaimed. 'Eternal life as a creature of the night, a punishment for the blood you have spilled.'"
Momo's fingers froze over the keyboard, her mind struggling to comprehend the weight of Mitsuomi's words.
"At first, I thought the priest's curse was a mere delusion, a fever dream brought on by the brink of death," Mitsuomi said, his lips curling into a mirthless smile. "But as the last vestiges of life slipped away, I felt a searing pain unlike anything I had ever experienced – a transformation, a rebirth into a realm of darkness and immortality."
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes glinting with a preternatural light. "I awoke to a new reality, Miss Yaoyorozu," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "A reality where the shadows held no secrets, where the night was my domain, and the thirst for blood became an insatiable hunger."
Momo's heart raced, her fingers trembling as she struggled to keep up with the surreal turn of events.
"I killed the priest who cursed me, along with those present, and fled into the shadows," Mitsuomi continued, his voice low and gravelly. "The hunger, the thirst for blood, consumed me like a raging inferno. I was a creature reborn, a being caught between the realms of life and death."
Momo's fingers trembled as she typed, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and fascination. "What happened next?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Mitsuomi's gaze grew distant, as if peering into the depths of a forgotten past. "I wandered the night, driven by an insatiable hunger that no mortal sustenance could sate. The scent of human blood called to me like a siren's song, luring me towards an existence of eternal damnation."
He leaned forward, his steel-blue eyes burning with intensity. "I struggled to maintain my humanity, Miss Yaoyorozu. The darkness within me threatened to consume the last vestiges of my mortal soul."
Momo swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. "How did you cope with this... transformation?"
A wry smile played upon Mitsuomi's lips. "At first, I tried to resist the urges, to cling to the remnants of my former life. But the hunger was relentless, a constant ache that gnawed at my very being."
He paused, his gaze growing distant once more. "It was during those early years that I encountered others like myself – creatures of the night, bound by the same curse, the same hunger for human blood. Alina, a beautiful vampriess from the ancient lands of Egypt, became my first mentor, guiding me through the intricacies of our existence. Her ebony tresses and piercing obsidian eyes captivated me, even as she instilled in me the importance of restraint and secrecy.
"Then there was Raphael, a brooding immortal from the streets of Renaissance-era Italy. His chiseled features and piercing green eyes belied a fierce determination to protect our kind from exposure. He taught me the art of blending in with the mortals, of hiding in plain sight, even as we indulged in the sustenance we craved.
"And lastly, there was Katarina, a fiery vampiress from the frozen wastelands of Russia. Her fiery red tresses and icy blue eyes were a striking contrast, much like her temperament – passionate and unyielding, yet tempered by a wisdom that spanned centuries."
Momo's fingers flew across the keyboard, capturing every detail of Mitsuomi's haunting tale.
"They became my guides, my mentors in this new, eternal existence," Mitsuomi continued. "They taught me the ways of our kind, the rules that governed our world – the importance of secrecy, the art of blending in with the mortals, and the consequences of indiscriminate killing."
He leaned back in his chair, a faraway look in his eyes. "It was a delicate balance, Miss Yaoyorozu. We were predators, yet we had to coexist with our prey, drawing sustenance from them without alerting the world to our existence."
Momo nodded, her mind reeling from the weight of Mitsuomi's words. "How did you manage to hide your true nature?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.
Mitsuomi's lips curled into an enigmatic smile. "Ah, that is a tale for another time, my dear Miss Yaoyorozu," he said, his steel-blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "For now, let us revel in the knowledge that I have walked this earth for centuries, a silent witness to the ebb and flow of human civilization."
Momo's fingers paused over the keyboard, her mind spinning with a thousand questions, each more intriguing than the last. She knew, in that moment, that Mitsuomi's story was only just beginning – a tapestry of secrets and mysteries woven through the ages, waiting to be unraveled.
つづく
AN-2: I'll end it here with Momo meeting Mitsuomi and learning that he is Vlad Dracul. Next chapter picks up with Momo coming back but also meeting our favorite Vampire mommy. Thank you reading. Tea and cookies are outside on your way out the Den of Champblaze.