AN-1: Greetings Everyone and welcome to another chapter that doesn't seem to be doing well but I've already finished writing it, I'll post it and a Huge thank you to V for the sole review. This chapter continues our tale as Momo's walls begin to breakdown and learning more about Mitsuomi. Thank you for reading and please enjoy.
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Chapter II - Crossing the Veil, The High Seas to the Rise of a Nation.
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.
Momo paused the recorder and stared at Mitsuomi, her eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and fascination. "Are you truly suggesting that you are Vlad Dracul III, the infamous Impaler?"
Mitsuomi's smile deepened, a hint of amusement playing across his aristocratic features. "I am he, though the tales of my cruelty have been greatly exaggerated over the centuries. I was a harsh ruler, to be sure, but my methods were born of necessity – to protect my people from the ever-encroaching Ottoman Empire."
"You would have to be over six hundred years old to witness so much history!" Momo exclaimed, her eyes widening in disbelief. She leaned forward, her mind racing with the weight of Mitsuomi's revelation. "To see empires rise and fall, civilizations flourish and crumble – it's almost too much to fathom."
"Ah yes," Mitsuomi said with a smile, his steel-blue eyes glinting in the dim light. "For one such as I, time holds no sway." He leaned back in his chair, a confident yet relaxed posture that seemed to defy the weight of centuries behind him. "The years ebb and flow like the tides, while I remain untouched by the ravages of age."
His gaze met Momo's, and there was a quiet intensity in his eyes that sent a shiver down her spine. "Imagine, if you will, witnessing the rise and fall of empires, the great march of human civilization unfolding before your very eyes. Kings and conquerors, heroes and villains – all but fleeting shadows in the grand tapestry of history."
Mitsuomi allowed a faint, enigmatic smile to play across his lips. "Such has been the course of my existence, Miss Yaoyorozu. A solitary observer, dwelling in the shadows, watching as generations bloom and wither like flowers in the field."
Mitsuomi rose from his chair, his movements graceful and purposeful. He crossed the room in a few long strides, closing the distance between them until he stood mere inches from Momo. His steel-blue eyes held her gaze, intense and captivating.
Reaching out, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his long, slender fingers trailing across her cheek in a featherlight caress. Momo's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding at his unexpected proximity.
"I can sense your intrigue, your hunger for knowledge," he murmured, his voice a rich, velvety baritone that sent delicious shivers down her spine. "Ask your questions, Miss Yaoyorozu, and I shall endeavor to answer them truthfully."
His touch lingered, electric and tantalizing, as if daring her to delve deeper into the mysteries that surrounded him. Momo found herself captivated, drawn in by the alluring promise of secrets waiting to be unraveled.
"I am intrigued," Momo admitted, her brow furrowing slightly. "But are you certain you wish to reveal such things? Surely there are risks in divulging the secrets of your existence."
Mitsuomi nodded, his expression serene. "People have been fascinated by the tales of vampires for centuries. What harm is there in adding one more story to the annals of legend?"
Momo considered his words, her mind whirling with possibilities. Here was a chance to unravel the threads of a mystery that had captivated humanity for untold ages – to peer behind the veil of myth and uncover the truth.
"Very well," Momo said, nodding slowly. "I will return tomorrow to continue our discussion. In the meantime, I shall ponder all that you have revealed to me tonight."
Mitsuomi inclined his head, a faint smile playing across his lips. "As you wish, Miss Yaoyorozu. I shall eagerly await your return."
Momo gathered her things, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. As she made her way to the door, Mitsuomi's voice stopped her.
"One final thought, my dear," he said, his steel-blue eyes piercing her very soul. "Be cautious in your pursuit of the truth. The path you tread is fraught with dangers – dangers that even one such as I cannot fully comprehend."
Momo met his gaze, her expression resolute. "I appreciate your concern, but I am prepared to face whatever challenges may arise. This is an opportunity I cannot simply discard."
Mitsuomi nodded, a glimmer of respect in his eyes. "Very well. Until tomorrow, then."
As Momo stepped out into the cool night air, her mind buzzed with questions and theories about Mitsuomi's startling revelations. She couldn't shake the nagging curiosity about his claim to be the infamous Vlad Dracula III, the fearsome Impaler of Wallachia.
Momo hurried home, eager to delve deeper into the history of this controversial figure. She fired up her laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she scoured the internet for information on Vlad Tepes, the man behind the myth.
Hours slipped by as Momo lost herself in a wealth of historical accounts, each more chilling than the last. Tales of Vlad's brutal military campaigns against the Ottoman Empire, his penchant for impaling his enemies on towering stakes, and the whispers of his descent into madness and cruelty.
Yet, amidst the horror, Momo couldn't help but feel a twinge of admiration for Vlad's unwavering determination to protect his people from foreign invaders. She read of his strategic brilliance, his ability to outmaneuver and demoralize his foes with psychological warfare.
As the night deepened, Momo's notes grew more frenzied, her mind weaving together the threads of fact and fiction, historical record and Mitsuomi's vivid recollections. She found herself wondering, could this enigmatic man truly be the embodiment of the infamous Impaler, cursed with immortality and forced to wander the centuries as a vampire?
By the time the first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon, Momo had crafted a tapestry of theories and speculations, her notebook filled with scribbled thoughts and questions for her next encounter with Mitsuomi. As she finally succumbed to exhaustion, her dreams were haunted by visions of impaled bodies and steel-blue eyes burning with the weight of centuries.
The following day, Momo returned to Mitsuomi's penthouse, clad in a sleek charcoal pantsuit that exuded a quiet confidence. The tailored jacket hugged her curves, while the crisp white blouse beneath added a touch of sophistication. She carried a leather briefcase, her bag slung over her shoulder.
She unzipped her bag and retrieved her laptop and a small recorder with a microphone. Setting up the equipment on the coffee table, she settled into the plush armchair, regarding her host with a mix of trepidation and curiosity. The fabric of her slacks whispered as she crossed her legs, her patent leather pumps lending a subtle air of authority.
"I have given much thought to our discussion," Momo began, her voice steady despite the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach. "And while I am skeptical of the supernatural elements you describe; I cannot deny the weight of your words."
Mitsuomi nodded, a pensive look crossing his ageless features. He cut an imposing figure, clad in a sleek, charcoal grey suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and lean physique. The fabric appeared to be of the finest quality, tailored to perfection and exuding an aura of understated sophistication.
"I would expect nothing less from one of your intellect and curiosity, Miss Yaoyorozu," he said, his steel-blue eyes gleaming beneath the sweep of his neatly combed raven hair. "Ask your questions, and I shall endeavor to provide satisfactory answers."
He leaned back in his chair, the crisp white dress shirt stretching taut across his chest, hinting at the lithe muscular frame beneath the finely tailored garments. A silk tie, patterned with subtle geometric designs, was knotted with practiced precision at his throat, the epitome of refined elegance.
With a languid gesture, Mitsuomi smoothed the lapels of his suit jacket, his long, slender fingers adorned with a single, understated ring – a symbol of power and wealth that seemed to radiate an aura of authority.
Momo set up her recorder and said, "Continuing interview, night two with Mitsuomi Kiriyu."
Mitsuomi nodded, a pensive look crossing his ageless features. "After traveling with fellow vampires from 1477 to 1490, I found myself living in Moskva. It was during this time that I first felt the pangs of loneliness – a feeling that, until then, had been foreign to me."
He leaned back, steepling his long fingers. "You see, Miss Yaoyorozu, while we vampires are indeed immortal, our existence is a solitary one. We move through the centuries, ever isolated from the world of men, bound by our cursed nature to lurk in the shadows."
Momo's gaze was rapt, her pen poised over her notebook. "So, you sought companionship?"
Mitsuomi nodded. "Indeed. I yearned for a connection, however brief, to ease the burden of my eternal existence. And so, I ventured into the heart of Moskva, drawn by the promise of a willing companion."
He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a frisson of delicious fear down Momo's spine. "I must confess, my methods were far from gentlemanly. I would frequent the taverns, seeking out those on the fringes of society – beggars, thieves, and the like. Individuals whose disappearance would go largely unnoticed."
Momo's brow furrowed as a disturbing thought crossed her mind. "You fed on them?" she asked, her voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. For a fleeting moment, she found herself wondering what it would feel like to have Mitsuomi's sharp fangs pierce her delicate flesh, to have her life's essence drained away in a crimson tide.
A shiver ran down her spine, equal parts fear and inexplicable intrigue. She quickly pushed the thought aside, refocusing her attention on Mitsuomi's enigmatic words.
Mitsuomi waved a dismissive hand. "Not all of them, no. Some, I simply took a few as lovers, enjoying their fleeting warmth and vitality before discarding them like wilted flowers."
He fixed Momo with a piercing stare. "I was a different creature in those days, Miss Yaoyorozu. Driven by base desires and an utter disregard for human life. It was not until later that I learned the value of discretion, of blending into the shadows and feeding only when necessary."
Momo swallowed hard, her hand stilling. "And what of your... lovers? Did you ever form deeper attachments?"
"There was one," Mitsuomi said, his gaze growing distant as he delved into the recesses of his memory. "Her name was Yelena, a young noblewoman who longed for adventure and excitement beyond the confines of her privileged existence."
Momo leaned forward, enraptured by his words. "Tell me about her."
A wistful smile played upon Mitsuomi's lips. "Yelena was a rare beauty, with hair like spun gold and eyes that sparkled like emeralds. She carried herself with a grace and poise that belied her youth, and her sharp wit and insatiable curiosity made her a captivating companion."
He paused, his expression darkening. "I encountered her one fateful night as she ventured beyond the city walls, seeking to escape the suffocating constraints of her aristocratic upbringing. I was instantly entranced by her fearlessness, her thirst for the unknown."
Mitsuomi's voice grew low, a hint of regret lacing his words. "Against my better judgment, I revealed my true nature to her – and instead of fleeing in terror, she embraced it with open arms. She begged me to grant her the gift of immortality, to free her from the shackles of mortality."
Momo's eyes widened. "And you obliged?"
Mitsuomi nodded, his gaze haunted. "I did. In a moment of weakness, I succumbed to her charms and turned her, binding her to the eternal night as I was."
He leaned back, his expression pensive. "Yelena's thirst for knowledge and adventure soon spiraled into recklessness. She reveled in her newfound powers, her disregard for human life growing with each passing night."
Momo frowned. "I sense there is more to this tale."
Mitsuomi exhaled slowly. "Yelena's mother, distraught over her daughter's disappearance, sought my aid in locating her. When I revealed the truth, the poor woman was inconsolable – until Yelena herself appeared, her fangs bared and her eyes wild with bloodlust."
A shudder ran through him. "In her madness, Yelena turned her own mother, damning her to the same cursed existence. And together, they embarked on a night of unspeakable violence, slaughtering the entirety of their household staff and leaving a trail of carnage in their wake."
Momo's breath caught in her throat. "That's horrific."
Mitsuomi nodded gravely. "I tried to reason with them, to rein in their bloodlust – but they were beyond reason, consumed by their newfound hunger and power. In the end, I was forced to..." He trailed off, his jaw clenching.
Momo's heart pounded in her chest. "You killed them."
Mitsuomi nodded solemnly. "I had no choice. Their descent into madness was complete, and their actions put countless innocent lives at risk. It was a burden I bore with great anguish, but one that was necessary to protect the sanctity of human existence."
He rose from his chair and strode to the window, his gaze distant as he gazed out over the city skyline. "After that night, I wandered the expanse of Russia for decades, a silent observer as the tides of history ebbed and flowed. I witnessed the rise of Ivan the Terrible, that brutal and paranoid tsar who ruled with an iron fist. I even watched as he beat his own successor to death in a fit of rage."
Mitsuomi shook his head, his expression haunted. "Such was the nature of those turbulent times. Violence and bloodshed were the currency of the day, and I found myself increasingly disillusioned with the ways of men."
He turned back to Momo, his steel-blue eyes piercing. "In 1547, I departed Russia, leaving behind the smoldering ruins of Moscow after the Great Fire. I sought solace in more familiar territories – the verdant hills and valleys of Moldavia and Serbia, lands steeped in the rich tapestry of my mortal life."
Momo listened, enraptured, as Mitsuomi wove his tale, painting vivid pictures of his wanderings through the centuries. She could almost envision him, a solitary figure moving through the shadows, a witness to the grand sweep of human civilization.
"For a time, I found peace in those rolling landscapes," Mitsuomi continued, his voice taking on a wistful tone. "I slumbered in the borderlands of Hungary, allowing the decades to slip by as I recharged my immortal spirit. It was a slumber undisturbed, save for the occasional whisper carried on the wind – whispers that spoke of a changing world beyond the borders of my refuge."
He paused, his steel-blue eyes growing distant as he recalled those hazy years. "It was not until 1610 that I stirred once more, roused by the persistent rumors that had begun to filter through the land. Rumors of a countess of the Bathory family, a woman whose name was spoken in hushed tones, her actions shrouded in a veil of secrecy and fear."
Momo leaned forward, her hand poised over her laptop. "The Bathory family?" she repeated, a slight frown creasing her brow. "As in... Countess Elizabeth Báthory?"
The infamous Blood Countess was a figure spoken of in hushed tones, her name forever etched into the annals of history as a symbol of depravity and cruelty. Rumors swirled of her unspeakable acts – the torture and murder of young maidens, the ritualistic bathing in their blood in a twisted belief that it would preserve her youth and beauty.
Momo's eyes widened as she considered the implications of Mitsuomi's words. Could this mysterious man, this self-proclaimed immortal, have crossed paths with the notorious Elizabeth Bathory herself? The mere thought sent a shiver of trepidation down her spine.
"Yes, Elizabeth Bathory," Mitsuomi affirmed, his expression grave. "The infamous Blood Countess, whose name has become synonymous with depravity and cruelty."
He rose from his chair, pacing the room with measured steps as he recounted the tale. "Rumors of her unspeakable acts had spread like wildfire across the land – whispers of young maidens tortured and murdered; their blood used in twisted rituals to preserve the countess's fading beauty."
Mitsuomi's steel-blue eyes glinted in the dim light, a hint of sorrow flickering within their depths. "At first, I dismissed these tales as mere folklore, the stuff of macabre legends passed down through generations. But the whispers grew too persistent, too detailed to be ignored."
He turned to Momo; his gaze intense. "I had to unravel the truth, to separate fact from fiction. And so, I set out for Čachtice Castle, Elizabeth Bathory's ancestral home, determined to confront this enigmatic figure face-to-face."
"And what did you find?" Momo asked, her voice hushed with anticipation.
Mitsuomi's gaze grew distant, his mind drifting back through the centuries to that fateful encounter. "I found an old woman, withered and haggard, her once-radiant beauty reduced to a mere husk of its former glory. And yet, in her eyes, I saw a glimmer of recognition – a flicker of understanding that I was no mere mortal."
He turned to face Momo, his expression grave. "Elizabeth Bathory, the infamous Blood Countess, fell to her knees before me, her emaciated hands clutching at my cloak. 'You are the Devil himself, come to claim my soul,' she rasped, her voice a mere whisper in the gloom of her chamber."
Mitsuomi shook his head slowly. "I tried to reason with her, to assure her that I meant her no harm. But she was consumed by her madness, her mind twisted by the weight of her sins. 'Give me back my beauty,' she begged, her eyes wild with desperation. 'I will do anything, pay any price, to reclaim the radiance of my youth.'"
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He sighed, a hint of regret flickering across his ageless features. "In that moment, I saw within her a kindred spirit – a soul tormented by the curse of immortality, driven to acts of unspeakable depravity in a futile attempt to cling to the fleeting vestiges of human existence."
Momo's hand stilled, her gaze fixed on Mitsuomi's face. "What did you do?"
A wistful smile tugged at the corners of Mitsuomi's mouth. "I gave her what she desired," he said softly. "I granted her the gift of eternal youth and boundless beauty, transforming her into a creature of the night – a vampire, like myself."
He shook his head ruefully. "It was a decision born of loneliness, of a desire to find a companion who could understand the weight of my cursed existence. But, as with Yelena before her, I soon realized the folly of my actions."
Momo's brow furrowed. "Elizabeth grew... uncontrollable?"
A rueful smile tugged at Mitsuomi's lips as he recalled those turbulent years. "For a time, Elizabeth heeded my words, adhering to the principles I had imparted to her – restraint, discretion, and a respect for human life. We made our home in the bustling city of Orléans, blending into the shadows and feeding only when necessary."
He shook his head, his expression tinged with regret. "But Elizabeth's vanity soon emerged, a festering wound that could not be contained. She became obsessed with preserving her newfound beauty, convinced that the blood of innocents held the key to eternal youth."
Mitsuomi paced the room, his brow furrowed. "I tried to reason with her, to make her understand the folly of her ways. 'We are creatures of the night, Elizabeth,' I would implore her. 'We must tread softly, lest we draw the attention of those who would seek to destroy us.'"
He paused, his steel-blue eyes clouding with the weight of memory. "But my words fell on deaf ears. Elizabeth had tasted the intoxicating allure of power, and she craved more, heedless of the consequences."
Momo leaned forward, her hand poised over her laptop. "What happened next?"
Mitsuomi's jaw clenched, his expression grim. "Elizabeth's bloodlust grew insatiable. She began to stalk the streets of Orléans, preying upon the innocent and leaving a trail of bodies in her wake. Her recklessness knew no bounds, and soon, the whispers of fear and suspicion began to spread like wildfire through the city."
He turned to Momo, his eyes haunted. "I pleaded with her, begged her to see reason. 'We must leave this place,' I urged her. 'The hunters will soon be upon us, and we must disappear into the shadows once more.'"
Mitsuomi shook his head, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. "But Elizabeth was drunk on her own power, convinced of her invincibility. 'Let them come,' she sneered, her eyes alight with madness. 'I shall bathe in their blood and cement my reign as the true Queen of the Night.'"
He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. "In that moment, I knew there was no reasoning with her. The woman I had once hoped to find companionship with had descended into a pit of depravity from which there was no return."
Momo's eyes widened, her hand stilling. "What did you do?"
Mitsuomi's gaze grew distant, his expression tinged with sorrow. "I did what I had to do," he murmured. "I lured Elizabeth into the catacombs beneath the city, where the hunters would not dare to tread. And there, in the silent darkness, I enacted the only recourse left to me."
He met Momo's gaze, his eyes glinting with a mixture of regret and determination. "I destroyed her, Miss Yaoyorozu. I put an end to her reign of terror, her madness, and her insatiable thirst for power. It was a mercy, in truth – for one such as Elizabeth, trapped in the throes of her own hubris, could only find peace in oblivion."
"Very well, Miss Yaoyorozu," Mitsuomi said, leaning back in his chair. "We shall resume our discussion tomorrow, and I shall regale you with tales of my adventures on the high seas."
Momo nodded, her hand poised above her laptop. "I look forward to it."
As Mitsuomi bade her goodnight, Momo couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for the stories yet to be told. She made her way home, her mind abuzz with the revelations of the evening.
The following evening, Momo returned to Mitsuomi's penthouse, clad in a sleek crimson sheath dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. The fabric clung to her body like a second skin, accentuating the gentle swell of her hips and the alluring lines of her décolletage. A pair of strappy black heels added a touch of sophistication to her ensemble, their slender stilettos lending a subtle air of authority with every click against the marble floor.
As she settled into the plush armchair, her gaze fell upon Mitsuomi, and she couldn't help but admire the way his tailored suit accentuated his broad shoulders and lean physique. The charcoal gray fabric appeared to be of the finest quality, perfectly tailored to hug his frame in a way that exuded an air of understated elegance.
Momo set up her recorder and said, "Continuing interview, night three with Mitsuomi Kiriyu." She adjusted her glasses.
Mitsuomi's gaze raked over her appreciatively. "My, my, Miss Yaoyorozu, you certainly know how to capture a man's attention." His eyes danced with amusement. "Though I must confess, I rather enjoyed the prim and proper look. There's something deliciously alluring about a woman who maintains an air of professionalism."
Momo felt her cheeks flush, but she met his gaze steadily. "I thought a change of pace might make for a more... engaging interview."
Mitsuomi leaned forward, his expression taking on a wistful air. "After the... unfortunate incident with Elizabeth Bathory, I found myself adrift for a few decades, yearning for a change of scenery. In 1714, I ended up in Spain, where I heard tales of pirates roaming the Caribbean seas. The stories of their swashbuckling exploits and untold riches captured my imagination, and I soon found myself stowing away on a ship bound for the Bahamas, specifically the pirate haven of Nassau."
"It was there that the siren call of the open sea truly beckoned to me, promising new horizons and the thrill of the unknown. I embraced the life of a seafaring rogue, plundering the treasures of the high seas and reveling in the freedom of the waves."
"You became a pirate?" Momo asked, her eyes widening in disbelief as she pictured Mitsuomi in her mind's eye – a dashing figure clad in swashbuckling attire. She could envision him striding across the deck of a galleon, his long coat billowing in the salty breeze, a cutlass hanging at his side. His raven locks would be tousled by the wind, lending him a roguish air, while his eyes would sparkle with a hint of mischief and danger.
Momo found herself captivated by the mental image, her heart racing at the thought of Mitsuomi as a fearsome pirate captain, his crew hanging on his every word. She could picture him at the helm, his gaze fixed on the horizon as they sailed in search of treasure and adventure, the roar of the cannons echoing across the waves.
Mitsuomi chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to reverberate through the room. "Indeed, my dear. For a time, I embraced the life of a seafaring rogue, plundering the treasures of the high seas and reveling in the freedom of the waves."
He rose from his chair and strode to the window, his gaze distant as he recalled those swashbuckling days. "I joined the crew of the Crimson Rose, a fearsome galleon captained by the notorious Edward Teach – better known as Blackbeard."
Momo's eyes widened. "The infamous pirate?"
Mitsuomi nodded. "The very same. A man whose reputation for cruelty and brutality was matched only by his cunning and his lust for gold and glory."
He turned to face Momo, his expression one of wry amusement. "I must confess, I cut quite the dashing figure as a pirate – my flowing cloak billowing in the salty breeze, my blade ever at the ready."
Momo couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image. "I can only imagine."
Mitsuomi grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ah, but it was more than mere swashbuckling that drew me to the pirate's life, Miss Yaoyorozu. There was a certain... freedom in embracing the outlaw's path, a liberation from the constraints of polite society."
He paced the room, his voice taking on a wistful tone. "We plundered merchant ships, seizing their treasures and leaving naught but a trail of smoldering wreckage in our wake. The smell of gunpowder and the clash of steel became our symphony, the roar of the cannon our heartbeat. On one such raid, we captured a Spanish frigate carrying a cargo of prisoners bound for the galleys. Their shackles lay broken at our feet as we liberated them from the bowels of that accursed ship. In their gratitude, the former captives hailed me as their savior and insisted I take command as their captain."
Mitsuomi's eyes gleamed with pride as he recalled the memory. "I must admit, there was a certain allure to being addressed as 'Captain' and having a loyal crew at my beck and call. For a time, we sailed the Caribbean, striking fear into the hearts of the Spanish and English fleets alike. Our daring exploits became the stuff of legend, whispered tales of high-seas adventure and daring thievery."
Momo listened, enraptured, as Mitsuomi painted vivid pictures of high-seas battles and daring escapes. She could almost envision him, cutlass in hand, a fearsome figure at the forefront of the fray.
"But it was not merely the thrill of combat that drew me to the pirate's life," Mitsuomi continued. "There was a certain... camaraderie among the crew, a bond forged in the crucible of danger and shared adversity."
He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Why, I even took a pirate's bride for a time – a fiery lass named Catalina, whose beauty was matched only by her skill with a blade."
Momo raised an eyebrow. "A pirate's bride?"
Mitsuomi nodded, a wistful smile playing across his lips. "Aye, a tradition among the buccaneers of old. Catalina was a true hellion, a fearsome fighter who could best any man on the crew. And yet, beneath that fiery exterior, she possessed a tenderness that captivated me utterly."
He sighed, his expression growing somber. "Alas, our union was not meant to endure. The life of a pirate is a harsh one, and the call of the open sea eventually tore us asunder."
"What happened?" Momo asked, leaning forward, her eyes alight with curiosity.
As Mitsuomi described the fiery Catalina, Momo found herself envisioning the woman – a lithe, fearsome figure with eyes that blazed like twin flames and hair that tumbled down her back in wild, untamed waves. She could picture Catalina at Mitsuomi's side, her blade flashing in the sunlight as she fought with the ferocity of a wildcat, her movements a deadly dance of steel and silk.
And for a fleeting moment, Momo dared to imagine herself in Catalina's place – a pirate's bride, bound to Mitsuomi by the unbreakable bonds of the high seas. She saw herself clad in breeches and a flowing shirt, a cutlass hanging at her hip as she strode across the deck of the Black Dawn, her hair whipping in the salty breeze. In her mind's eye, she was a vision of untamed beauty, her cheeks flushed with the thrill of adventure, her every movement exuding a captivating blend of grace and danger.
Momo could envision herself locked in an embrace with Mitsuomi, their bodies swaying in time with the gentle rocking of the ship, their lips meeting in a searing kiss that tasted of the sea and forbidden desires. She would be his pirate queen, his eternal companion on the endless voyage that was their immortal existence, bound together by a love as wild and untamed as the crashing waves.
The fantasy was intoxicating, and for a moment, Momo found herself transported to that world of swashbuckling exploits and high-seas romance. But then Mitsuomi's voice drew her back to the present, and she blinked, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of excitement and embarrassment at the vivid images her mind had conjured.
Mitsuomi's gaze grew distant, his mind drifting back through the centuries. "We had plundered a Spanish galleon, laden with untold riches from the New World. Gold, jewels, artifacts of immeasurable value – it was a haul that would have set us up for life, had we managed to make it back to port."
He shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "But we were beset upon by a British man-of-war, their cannons tearing through our hull like paper. In the chaos of battle, Catalina and I became separated, and as my Black Dawn began to flounder, I was forced to abandon ship."
Momo's eyes widened. "Did she survive?"
"I know not her ultimate fate, Miss Yaoyorozu," Mitsuomi continued, his voice heavy with sorrow. "As the waves closed over my head, the last image I saw was Catalina, her blade flashing in the sun as she fought off the encroaching British sailors."
Momo's eyes were wide with concern. "But you survived?"
Mitsuomi nodded solemnly. "By some stroke of fortune, I washed ashore on a deserted island in the Bahamas. I spent weeks recuperating, subsisting on whatever meager provisions I could scavenge until a passing merchant vessel happened upon me."
He leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant. "The ship's captain, a God-fearing man, insisted on ferrying me to the British colonies in the New World, suspecting me of piracy but unable to prove it definitively. Thus, I found myself in the port town of Charleston, South Carolina, far from the familiar waters of the Caribbean."
Momo listened, rapt, as Mitsuomi recounted his adventures in the fledgling colonies. "For several years, I drifted up and down the eastern seaboard, seeking my fortune wherever I could find it. The colonies were a powder keg in those days, with tensions between the colonists and the British crown simmering just beneath the surface."
A wry smile tugged at his lips. "I confess, I may have fanned the flames of rebellion on more than one occasion, stirring up discontent among the disgruntled populace. The spirit of revolution was intoxicating, a heady brew that promised the overthrow of the old order and the birth of a new era."
"But eventually, the turmoil grew too heated, even for my tastes," he continued. "As the colonies erupted into open conflict with the mother country, I retreated northward, seeking refuge in the relative calm of Delaware and Virginia."
"It was during those years that I witnessed the people of the colonies undergo a profound spiritual awakening," Mitsuomi said, his voice taking on a contemplative tone. "The fervor swept through the land like a wildfire, igniting a renewed passion for faith and a hunger for salvation in the hearts of the colonists."
Momo leaned forward, captivated by his words. "What happened?"
He leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant as he recalled those times. "I attended a revival meeting led by the renowned preacher George Whitefield. His fiery sermons spoke of sin and redemption, of the need to cast off the shackles of earthly temptation and embrace the light of the divine."
"Did you seek redemption?" Momo asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.
Mitsuomi's expression darkened, and he rose from his chair, pacing the room with a restless energy. "Redemption?" he scoffed, his voice laced with bitterness. "How can one seek absolution when they have been cursed to walk this earth, forsaken by the very God they once served?"
Momo watched him, a pang of sympathy tugging at her heart. "I don't blame you for hating God," she said softly. "Most pin their lives on it and die because of it."
Mitsuomi halted his pacing, his gaze snapping towards her. For a moment, his eyes burned with an intensity that made Momo's breath catch in her throat. Then, slowly, the fire in his gaze dimmed, and he heaved a weary sigh.
"You speak true, Miss Yaoyorozu," he murmured, his voice laced with centuries of pain. "I have witnessed countless souls sacrifice everything in the name of their faith, only to be met with indifference or cruelty from the divine."
"To avoid the turmoil of the Great Awakening, I remained in slumber from 1740 to 1760," Mitsuomi said, his tone somber. "The fervor of religious revivals swept through the colonies like a wildfire, igniting passions and dividing families. I wanted no part in such zealotry."
Momo nodded, understanding the weight of his words. "I can't imagine how difficult it must have been to witness such upheaval."
Mitsuomi's expression softened. "Indeed, it was a tumultuous time. The air was thick with the cries of preachers and the wails of the 'possessed', begging for deliverance from their sins." He shook his head, a rueful smile playing on his lips. "Fortunately, I was spared the spectacle by retreating into my slumber."
"And when you awoke?" Momo prompted, her curiosity piqued.
He rose from his chair again, his movements fluid and graceful. "When I awoke, the colonies were rushing down the path to gain independence from the British crown. Tensions had been brewing for years, fueled by resentment over unfair taxation and a lack of representation in Parliament."
Momo listened, rapt, as Mitsuomi recounted his experiences in the fledgling nation. "I settled in Boston around 1770, after living in Pennsylvania and learning from the colonists about their unfair treatment at the hands of the British crown."
Mitsuomi's eyes took on a faraway look as he recalled those turbulent times. "I witnessed firsthand the growing unrest, the rallying cries for liberty echoing through the streets of Boston and Philadelphia. Men like Samuel Adams and John Hancock became my comrades, their fiery rhetoric and bold acts of defiance resonating with the rebel within my own soul."
He paced the room, his footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors. "In 1773, I had the privilege of attending the infamous Boston Tea Party, where we defiantly dumped shiploads of British tea into the harbor as a protest against the Crown's taxation policies. It was a bold act of defiance, a spark that ignited the flames of revolution."
Momo's eyes widened. "You were there?"
"Indeed, Miss Yaoyorozu. I witnessed firsthand the spark that ignited the flames of revolution, the bold act of defiance that would forever alter the course of history," Mitsuomi said, his eyes alight with the memories of those tumultuous times.
Momo leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "And what happened after the Boston Tea Party?"
Mitsuomi's expression grew somber. "By 1775, tensions between the colonies and the British crown had reached a boiling point. I had joined the local militia of Boston, and soon found myself enlisted in the Continental Army under the command of General George Washington."
He chuckled wryly. "The life of a soldier was a far cry from my swashbuckling days as a pirate, but the constant battles and skirmishes were a perfect place to feed my... unique appetites."
Momo's eyes widened as vivid images flooded her mind, envisioning Mitsuomi prowling the battlefields under the veil of night, a lethal shadow amidst the chaos. She pictured him clad in a Revolutionary soldier's uniform, his movements swift and silent as he navigated the carnage, his thirst for blood mingling with the thrill of combat.
"Did you function during the daylight hours as well?" Momo asked, curiosity burning in her eyes. "Or was the sun an obstacle for you at that time?"
Mitsuomi's lips curved into a wry smile. "In those days, the sun was a mere annoyance, a fleeting discomfort that would not claim my life. With age and experience, I had learned to tolerate its rays, though I still preferred the sanctuary of night."
"I fought alongside the Continental Army for the duration of the war, participating in pivotal battles such as Bunker Hill, Trenton, and Yorktown. The camaraderie of the soldiers, their unwavering spirit in the face of adversity – it was a bond forged in the crucible of conflict, not unlike the kinship I had experienced among my pirate brethren."
"I still remember the euphoria that swept through our ranks when Lord Cornwallis finally surrendered at Yorktown," Mitsuomi continued, his eyes sparkling with the memory. "The war was won, and a new nation had been born – a nation founded on the principles of liberty, equality, and the pursuit of happiness."
Momo leaned forward, enraptured by his tale. "And what did you do after the war?"
Mitsuomi chuckled softly. "For a time, I remained in the Continental Army, serving under the fledgling government of this new United States. But the call of the open road soon beckoned to me once more." He rose from his chair again and paced the room, his movements fluid and graceful. "In 1784, I left the service and embarked on a journey, traveling through the newly formed states, exploring the vast expanse of this young nation."
"Where did you go?" Momo asked, her eyes alight with curiosity.
"I wandered far and wide, Miss Yaoyorozu," Mitsuomi replied, a wistful smile playing across his lips. "From the bustling cities of the East Coast to the untamed wilderness of the frontier, I witnessed the birth pangs of this fledgling nation firsthand. But eventually, my travels led me to the Spanish-controlled territories of the South."
He paused, his gaze growing distant. "It was in New Orleans that I found a kindred spirit – a city whose vibrant culture and rich history reminded me of my beloved Orleans. The air was thick with the scents of spice and revelry, the streets alive with music and merriment."
Momo could almost picture it – the narrow alleys of the French Quarter, the rowdy taverns spilling over with raucous laughter, the sultry rhythms of jazz echoing through the night.
"I fell in love with New Orleans, Miss Yaoyorozu," Mitsuomi confessed, his voice tinged with a hint of wistfulness. "The city's unique blend of French, Spanish, and African influences captivated me from the moment I set foot in the French Quarter. The air was thick with the scents of spices and revelry, the narrow streets alive with music and merriment."
He paced the room, his eyes alight with memory. "I witnessed the great fires of 1788 and 1792 that ravaged the city, but New Orleans rose from the ashes like a phoenix, its resilient spirit undaunted."
Momo leaned forward, enraptured by his tale.
"In 1795, I purchased a modest plantation on the outskirts of the city and began cultivating sugarcane. The years passed, and by 1800, my venture had prospered, granting me a comfortable life among the burgeoning Creole aristocracy."
Mitsuomi's expression grew somber. "But my contentment was short-lived. In 1803, I learned that the Louisiana Territory had been ceded to the United States as part of the Louisiana Purchase. The city I had come to love was now part of this young, upstart nation."
He shook his head ruefully. "A fire claimed my plantation home in 1804, forcing me to return to the city limits. For the next decade, I immersed myself in the vibrant culture of New Orleans, embracing the city's unique blend of French, Spanish, and African influences. It was during those years that I encountered Estelle, a former slave whose resilient spirit and captivating beauty captured my heart."
Mitsuomi's eyes took on a faraway look as he recalled the memory. "Estelle worked as a laundress in one of the city's grand hotels, her slender form bent over the washboards from dawn until dusk. Yet, despite the hardships she endured, her eyes sparkled with an inner light that drew me in like a moth to a flame."
He chuckled softly. "I confess, I watched her from the shadows for weeks, entranced by her graceful movements and her melodic singing as she worked. Finally, one evening, I approached her as she was returning home from the hotel, introducing myself as a visitor to the city."
Momo listened, enraptured, imagining the scene – Estelle, a lithe figure with skin like burnished mahogany and eyes that shone like twin stars, her face flushed from a long day's labor. And then, emerging from the shadows, the enigmatic Mitsuomi, his gaze piercing and intense as he introduced himself to the unsuspecting woman.
"Estelle was wary at first, as any sensible woman would be when approached by a stranger in the night," Mitsuomi continued. "But there was a spark of curiosity in her eyes, a yearning for something beyond the drudgery of her daily existence. Over the course of several weeks, we would meet in secret, our conversations ranging from the mundane to the philosophical as we explored the city together under the veil of darkness."
He smiled fondly at the memory. "Estelle was a true rarity – a woman of intelligence and wit, her mind as captivating as her beauty. She spoke of her dreams of one day owning her own laundry business, of being a master of her own destiny. And I, in turn, regaled her with tales of my travels, spinning fanciful stories to mask the truth of my existence."
Mitsuomi's expression grew somber. "But our romance was not meant to endure. Estelle's curiosity eventually led her to uncover the truth about me – my ageless visage, my aversion to daylight, my... unique appetites. At first, she was frightened, understandably so. But in time, her fear gave way to acceptance, and even a sense of wonder."
He sighed heavily. "Alas, our time together was fleeting. Estelle's dreams of independence could not be realized in New Orleans, and she eventually left the city, setting out for Philadelphia in search of a better life. I offered to accompany her, but she refused, insisting that I remain in the city that had become my home."
Momo's heart ached for the bittersweet tale, imagining the heartbreak of parting with one's true love. "Did you ever see her again?" she asked softly.
Mitsuomi shook his head. "No, Miss Yaoyorozu. Our paths never crossed again after that fateful night when she bid me farewell. But I like to think that Estelle found happiness and success in Philadelphia, her indomitable spirit carrying her to the heights she so richly deserved."
He fell silent for a moment, lost in the memories of that bygone era. Then, with a shake of his head, he seemed to rouse himself from his reverie. "But enough of past dalliances," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "There are still many more tales to be told."
Momo hung on his every word, her imagination painting vivid pictures of the bustling port city and its colorful inhabitants.
"The winds of war were stirred once more," Mitsuomi continued. "In 1812, I found myself embroiled in the conflict between the United States and Britain. I fought alongside General Andrew Jackson's ragtag militia at the Battle of New Orleans in 1815, witnessing firsthand the decisive American victory that would ultimately end the War of 1812."
He chuckled wryly. "It was a far cry from the pitched naval battles of my pirate days, but the thrill of combat still coursed through my veins."
Momo nodded, her eyes wide with fascination.
"Alas, my time in New Orleans could not last forever," Mitsuomi said, his tone tinged with regret. "Shortly after the Battle of New Orleans, I departed the city, taking refuge in South Carolina for a time. But the weight of the centuries soon grew too heavy, and I retreated into slumber once more, allowing the world to carry on without me."
Momo nodded as Mitsuomi paused his tale. "I'm captivated by your adventures, Mitsuomi. It's like stepping into a time machine and witnessing history unfold."
Mitsuomi smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Ah, but our journey has only just begun, my dear. There are still many untold tales waiting to be unearthed, like buried treasures waiting to be discovered."
He leaned back in his chair, a wistful expression crossing his ageless features. "When next we meet, I shall regale you with tales of my time as a mountain man, braving the untamed wilderness of the American frontier."
つづく
AN-2: I'll end it here with Momo learning of his life as a pirate and revolutionary. Next chapter picks up with Momo coming back but she also meets Mitsoumi's other half Alcina Dimitrescu. Yes, the vampire mommy herself but not as tall. Thank you reading. Tea and cookies are outside on your way out the Den of Champblaze.