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finderseeker · 2 months ago

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Here’s that thing I spontaneously started writing for some reason. I go where my whims and capricious focus take me. I got sick of editing and rereading so I’m just posting it. This is set in the DDAU. It’s not long after things got worked out between the two sets of Dingsasters. Maybe a couple months. Windy is struggling.

Edit: changed it so the signed dialogue is no longer in italics sincee it’s the primary language.

————

“You know, in my world, you are a bartender as well.”

Grillby eyed the human man sitting as his bar. He was flushed, a sure sign that he was officially buzzed. Grillby knew this instantly, despite the man never having drank here before. After all, Gaster— his Gaster— was the same way: his face flushed when he drank. Of course this man was the same; The two were the same person, after all.

That was what Gaster— Wingdings— said, anyway. And, truth be told, Grillby could see it. This human had the same mannerisms, the same gestures, the same posture, the same expressions, the same name signs. If that alone weren’t enough, there was another monster with a human counterpart: Asteri. He hadn’t know the woman well, really, before all this. If he had stopped to think, perhaps he might have recalled seeing her as a little girl with her parents, half a century ago, but the family didn’t visit Snowdin often, and visited his restaurant even less. Besides, shapeshifters were easy to mistake.

The main reason he could use her and her human counterpart as evidence that this whole “alternate universe” business was real was that he had re-met her, now as an adult studying dog language in Snowdin, right around the same time that his best friend of over 400 years nervously introduced him to a human he was sheltering, who had the same name. Not only the same name, but the same voice, the same hair, the same style of dress, the same mannerisms, and the same alcohol preferences. The reasonable conclusion was that it was simply a particularly strange coincidence, but no, things with Gaster were never that simple these days. Of course it was something absurd like an alternate universe. The skeleton had always been a little too trusting— even of humans, even after everything— so Grillby initially took the story with a grain of salt. But as time went on, and Gaster spent more time with her, apparently details that reinforced the factuality of it came to light.

Not that Grillby saw either of them often. That was simply the nature of his friendship with Gaster, after so many years: long stretches of silence, occasional visits that picked up as if no time had passed, and, every once in a while, periods of frequent and excited contact. Those tended to happen during high stress situations, intense lows, or major breakthroughs. He would have assumed that sheltering a human would have been a large enough event to merit frequent contact, but no, nothing much came of it. And he, like always, never pushed. So when the next time the two visited, months later, and they held hands, well… that was Gaster’s business. But he believed his friend’s explanation about different universes, and just like when they asked him the first time, he agreed to keep an eye out for another human.

Except he didn’t see one. Not until nearly a year after his initial introduction to the human Asteri, when Gaster introduced a lanky, disheveled human man. Grillby had heard the announcement, of course, just like everyone else: that there were two humans living in the underground, and they were not to be harmed. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time besides being relieved Gaster would no longer need to hide the woman he obviously had feelings for, that she had apparently found her friend, and that both of them were so peaceful in comparison to the last time a human had fallen, decades ago.

Meeting this second human, all things considered, Grillby should not have been surprised when his oldest friend introduced him as his own alternate self. Despite this, he immediately felt an odd sort of defensiveness well up on Gaster’s behalf. Grillby and the human man had stared at each other for a few moments, both processing this meeting. Then, something had clicked for the human, and the precise way he lit up with that dumb idiot grin was so familiar, so immediately recognizable, Grillby barely needed any more evidence to be convinced.

Oh, sure, he had about a million questions about the whole situation between the four of them— two Asteris, and two Gasters, all of whom had now met each other, apparently— but they would tell him what they needed to, when they felt ready. He didn’t ask questions. This many years of bartending and people-watching had given him both the ability to read people and the patience to mind his own business and wait for an explanation. People loved to talk, and there were far more ways to say something than with words. He was the silent companion, always there to listen but never to pry. A keeper of secrets, and a staunch minder of his own business.

Nothing about today had seemed especially different, except that the human Gaster had wandered in all on his own a while ago, hesitant but trying not to seem uneasy. (Trying to hide it was futile though; Grillby had known his counterpart for centuries and could read his body language like a book.) But he said nothing as was his custom, simply nodded in greeting and acknowledgement, and let the man sit where he liked and order if he wished.

It had been nearly a 40 minutes by now, with naught a word but to order something Grillby wasn’t familiar with, then brandy as a reluctant compromise, and two refills. Only now, nursing that second refill, had the man finally lifted his head and signed anything beyond that.

“You know, in my world, you are a bartender as well.”

Grillby eyed him. That was certainly one way to start a conversation. It was indeed tempting to take the bait and tug the line, but he had many years of patience. He waited silently, as always.

The man sighed inaudibly and studied Grillby with a sort of look he had seen before. Asteri— the human one— always treated him with an odd sort of familiarity when she visited (which was more often than he expected, frankly), as if she already knew him. Sometimes he caught her looking at him with what he had long since learned to recognize in patrons as nostalgia. Bittersweetness. Except hers was a little different in a way he could never put a finger on. She never said anything though, and as a bartender he never asked. Now it made a little more sense: he had a counterpart too, and the two humans knew him.

That look was different on this face, though. Where Asteri looked a little sad, but mostly fond, this human version of Gaster looked far more stricken.

“You are quiet there, too.”

Human Gaster smiled a little, but it slipped almost immediately.

“Not quite this quiet, though.”

He swirled his drink around and stared at it for a moment before taking another sip.

“You used to be quite reactive, when we first met.” He chuckled, just once. “You are still learning to keep your expression neutral when customers say outrageous things. You were getting much better at it.” A bright, genuine smile split the gloom he was projecting, for a moment. “You opened your own restaurant, much like this one! It was just taking off… when Asteri and I fell.”

The smile was gone just as quickly, replaced by an even more despondent expression.

“I was supposed to visit. We moved away, after university. I had to cancel my trip…” He sighed. “No. I did not need to. You were coming to visit us the following month, and so I reasoned…”

The human blinked watery eyes and laid against his arm on the bar, hands falling still.

“I wonder what you thought,” he signed after a few moments, small like a whisper, and a few tears rolled onto his arm. “When we disappeared.” He blinked slowly, looking somewhere that wasn’t here. “I wish I could tell you I am safe. That I am sorry. I wish…” His eyes watered anew and his jaw quivered. “…I could tell you that I miss you.”

He rolled his head so his face was pressed into his sleeve, and sniffled softly.

Grillby stared at him, genuinely surprised for the first time in a while.

Oh.

This man— they called him “Windy” —was undeniably Gaster, but Grillby had only acknowledged that fact on its own. But it didn’t exist in a vacuum. This wasn’t just “now there’s a human Gaster too.” This was also “Gaster thrown into a strange new place,” “Gaster grieving something enormous,” and right now, most of all, “Gaster without his best friend.”

He knew how his Gaster— Wingdings— was. He knew how bad things were when they were young, how much he needed support. After so many years, he knew it wasn’t self-absorbed or presumptuous to say that Wingdings needed him. It was mutual. Of course it was. No longer needing to constantly be around each other didn’t change the fact that once upon a time, they only had each other. It didn’t change how integral they were to each other’s lives, even to each other’s development as people.

So what if Wingdings just disappeared?

What if the last time he visited really was the last time?

What would he do if his best friend and only anchor throughout the centuries were suddenly gone? No explanation, no clues, nothing.

Sparks, he’d be devastated. Heartbroken would be an understatement.

And if it had happened back then, when they were both still settling into who they were? Grillby wouldn’t even be the same person. Wingdings just another monster erased after the war, but the only one he’d been side-by-side with through it all; the reason he hadn’t allowed himself to succumb to the numbness that came with killing; the person who had kept him kind, kept him compassionate. The only friend he’d allowed himself to have in a world where caring had always, inevitably gotten him hurt.

He would have been utterly inconsolable.

But Wingdings, Wingdings was far more tender-hearted. He took every loss so hard, every time, even after more than four centuries. Grillby couldn’t imagine Wingdings would ever be alright if anything happened to him. Not now, not back then. No partner could ever fill the space they took up in each other’s lives. No happiness could replace each other’s friendship. It wasn’t a romantic thing; They had just known each other longer than anyone else.

Grillby blinked, mentally shaking himself out of his thoughts, and glanced around his restaurant. It was sparser than usual, being a weeknight. His attention turned back to the human in front of him. He may not know Windy, but he knew Gaster. He may have a policy of silence, but he always made an exception for his friend.

He scooped a glass of ice and nudged Windy’s arm with it. Windy lifted his head just enough to look up with bleary, red eyes. The ice in the glass was half melted when he reluctantly took it.

“If Gaster disappeared, I’d be pissed," Grillby signed flatly as the glass was taken. Windy wilted again. Grillby's expression didn't change, but a crimson shimmer of worry and guilt flickered through his flames. "Wouldn't think bad of him though."

Windy searched his face, probably struggling to read it, as most people did. Fire elementals didn’t tend to have a lot of facial expressions; it had more to do with brightness, intensity, and color. Most monsters didn’t know that. A human from a world without monsters certainly wouldn’t. Indeed, Windy didn’t seem to find whatever he was searching for, and his eyes fell once more as he sipped his ice water.

“I’m sorry for unloading this on you.”

His signs ran together and stayed close to his body, like he was muttering.

“This must be so uncomfortable for you. I- I apologize for being so selfish. I should not have come and said all this.”

He made to get up, shoving his hand in his pocket to fish for his wallet. Grillby reached out to grasp his shoulder, stopping him. He looked up. Grillby paused, not entirely sure what he had intended by this gesture. Seeing Windy sad like this was like seeing Wingdings from long, long ago. It made his heart ache.

“Not selfish,” he said. Another moment of hesitation, then, “It’s good you came. Stay.”

Windy’s jaw trembled again, and once more Grillby was struck by how uncannily similar his expressions were to Wingdings’, somehow, despite having skin and muscle. Windy hesitated, torn. “I should get home…”

It was a weak protest, and Grillby knew Gaster well enough to know when he needed to be pushed and when he needed to be left to it.

“Sober up first.” A reasonable excuse.

Windy hesitated once again, but then nodded and got back on his barstool.

He took another sip of ice water.

Grillby wiped out a cup.

It must be strange, he thought, to meet someone who you know, but who doesn’t know you. If he were in Windy’s position…

He set the cup aside and eyed the other man once more. “How do I look?”

Windy looked up, confused.

Grillby nodded toward him with his head. “Human.”

“A-Ah! Well…” The other man cracked a smile. Success. “You are shorter, but otherwise have the same build. You have pale skin, and freckles. You keep your hair long, except in summer. It is usually tied in a high ponytail. It is wavy, and—” He chuckled softly— “fiery orange.”

A sliver of violet wove its way up through Grillby’s flames, and he crackled pleasantly. After a moment of consideration, he leaned forward closer and dimmed, just a little, pointing to his face. Windy squinted in the heat, but after a second his eyes widened and he grinned.

“Freckles! I did not realize you could—” He caught himself and waved his hands sheepishly. “Ah! That is to say, I know so little still, I find that my reasoning frequently returns to the principles of my own universe. I was not aware that a being made of fire could… could have freckles.” His smile split his face despite himself.

There was a flicker of violet in Grillby’s flames. “What else?”

Windy lit up even more. “We are the same age, but while I am often mistaken as being older, you have a “baby face.”” He giggled a little. “You cannot grow facial hair save for patches of stubble, either, and we have had more than one silly argument about it. In university, you would come home and complain about how many customers asked if you were old enough to be tending a bar to begin with.”

Grillby raised nonexistent eyebrows. “We lived together?”

“Yes, for a few years. You see, the living arrangements on campus…”

⁂

By the time Windy left, it was late. He was smiling though, and that made Grillby feel better. By then, Grillby had learned many things about his human counterpart and the world this other Gaster had once lived in. He learned that human Grillby liked the cold weather too, preferring snow over sun; that his name there was a nickname (his real name was Gilbert); and that there was no war they’d ever had to fight, only academic and social struggles. It sounded like a much nicer past.

Grillby had told him to come back soon— they needed to settle on a different way to sign his name, after all, so it wasn’t the same as Wingdings’. Windy eagerly agreed; both of them being “Dr. Gaster” to everyone at work was difficult enough.

“You can pick me a new one,” Grillby had offered as well. “If you want.” He shrugged. “Don’t have to.”

It seemed that Windy liked the idea. He had launched into over-explaining himself immediately upon agreeing though, as if Grillby would be offended by it when he was the one who brought it up. He held a hand up to stop him. “I already know.”

He was Grillby, but wasn’t Windy’s Grillby. It was as simple as that. That fact wouldn’t change. They knew different versions of each other who had lived very different lives. At the heart of it all, though, they were the same, and that was what mattered. There was nothing he could do about this other Grillby, no replacing him, just like Windy could never replace Wingdings. They didn’t have the same history. They weren’t each other’s oldest and dearest companions. No. But they could still be friends. It was a start.

#seeker writes #I will probably come back and edit this after posting. as I tend to do.#writing this was super weird for some reason #I couldn’t manage to convey the feeling I wanted.#not nearly enough #y’know how ‘flavored’ sparkling water tastes like it was just NEAR some fruit? this tastes like it was just NEAR the feeling.#plus I don’t have Grillby’s voice very well defined in my head yet so it’s hard to write him.#i’ll get there #But he isn’t nearly as analytical or as much of an overthinker as Asteri or Gaster (or Alphys).#And as anyone who’s read anything I’ve ever written will know: I am extremely long-winded. I over-explain #It’s really hard not to do that.#oh well. at least I wrote something #borrowed the idea of different color flames indicating different emotions from copper-skulls btw bc they write it so well #WRITING GOALS HONESTLY #Lupik if you see this: yeah that’s right. I’m saying nice things about you. What are you gonna do about it?#(/lighthearted and silly)#double dingsaster au #⁂ humans #⁂ au #windy #grillby

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volfoss · 6 months ago

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i think honestly what irritates me about yoshidas work SO much is that people will tell you that banana fish is THE gay manga (ignoring the many things that came before it and were more groundbreaking, ie MW literally having on screen (or like. on panel but still.) gay sex in it and that came out like a decade before BF did) when there really isn't barely any gay rep outside of the pedophiles and the one time ash drops the f slur. like im sorry but somehow yasha, a work she wrote in 1996, has more gay rep in it but also has the same issues.

i truly do not get how people can enjoy banana fish with the rampant racism every 2 pages or the rampant sexual assault plotlines (on women and ash bc he is just... written like how yoshida writes women lmao) that are handled IMPOSSIBLY bad and sincerely i hoped yasha would be better because it had been like a decade or so between works. and then it proceeds to continue with the heres our blonde genius protagonist who everyone is weird as fuck to and will sexually harrass and everyone finds it a VERY funny joke to point out how feminine he is when theres barely any women in the work (if you exclude the ones that are being raped/killed/creepy to minors. which to be fair yasha has toned down the sa a LOT) and that its funny that hes kind of gay except not really!! and its just absurd to me how it just persists in all of her stuff because she is not an author that handles gay stuff well. like the scene in banana fish where ash is completely ok getting gang raped and did it solely to get into the hospital when its been SHOWN that he has a lot of trauma with that. and then right after his friend makes a joke at ash's expense about that. like sincerely and genuinely is this what we are hyping up as the old retro gay manga. go read some tezuka and stop reading shit that the most the main characters do is share a kiss in a nonromantic sense and is obsessed w making every gay person be evil!!

#twist rambles #sorry mw u will always be famous to me (horrible fucking manga to experience for like 50% of the time but also it rocksss and theres #about anything tw worthy in there but i wish more ppl did read it)#sorry im like. i like to read her stuff bc her art is interesting to me but oh my god it makes me so angryyyy #rape mention #ask to tag #like... you do not understand my one sided rivalry w her it is SO intense like... bf was one of the worst reading experiences ive ever had #my tzk gay recs are: black jack (protag literally has a transmasc ex bf) and mw (for aforementioned reasons but its like. genuinely bonkers #and honestly there r a lot of minor characters that r lgbt in his works and like. can we please read smth that doesnt suck 100% of the time #like idk god bf is so baffling to me bc theres NOTHING there other than like. the new horrors every chapter. and yasha seems to be reusing #some plot points so it double sucks. haunted by the one analysis showing how the two had similar themes and point 1 was literally child #exploitation like... man. god it sucks. like not that mw is perfect bc its not and its a media i have a lot of thoughts on but man. id take #that over bf anyday bc like... sincerely how is anyone looking past the horrors there!! the story is a jumbled mess and it rly doesnt have #much to sayyyy but whatever lol!! id love if the characters were in a better media id love if ash didnt end the story feeling positively #towards the man who groomed him but whateverrrr lol #this is super disorganized as a post but like. genuinely it is so infuriating bc some of the plot concepts in yasha have potential and then #she keeps doing this like!!

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dawn-moths · 1 year ago

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word count: 2600+

content warning/disclaimer: size difference, predator/prey dynamics, non-consensual biting/blood drinking, reader is kidnapped, reader is called “good girl” and “little one”, Itto is rough with reader at first but softer towards the end.

Vampire!Itto who follows you through a maze of thunder sakura one night, bobbing and weaving through the lush lilac flora without making a sound as he trails after you, far enough that you don’t yet suspect you’re being followed but close enough that he never loses sight of you.

He lurks soundlessly, which, given the sheer size of him, should prove impossible. But he’s careful to avoid loose twigs littering the ground and skillfully evades the crunch of dry maple leaves as he closes in. It isn’t until you hear the deliberate bend and creak of a thick branch overhead that you’re made aware of the beast who’d caught your scent, the newfound fear that courses through your veins and rapidly pumping heart making his mouth water.

You were going to taste so good once he sank his teeth into you— so good he might not let you go afterwards like he normally did with some of his more attractive prey— and you could swear he was smiling back at you mean and cruel as you stood frozen and gaping up at him with terror swimming in your wide eyes from the ground below, silver moonlight bathing your form and giving the vampire a clear view of you.

He flashed you a quick glance of those razor sharp canines as they glinted under the moon, unable to keep himself from smirking with victory, the same illumination that set a spotlight on you only serving as a cloak for the hunter perched in the trees as it lit him from behind and cast a dark shadow over his face.

The only other feature you could make out from the darkness that engulfed him was the sinister glow of those bright vermillion eyes, gleaming like two twin beacons of danger through the amethyst canopy. The next time you dared to blink though, your body still standing frozen and petrified in place, the monster’s stare was directly before you, so close you could see your trembling reflection shining back at you from within those entrancing pools of scarlet.

“A little late to be out wanderin’ on your own…” the vampire taunted, his voice a low, raspy growl that turned your blood to ice in your veins and set the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. “Isn’t it?” When you didn’t answer and he began to circle you, he continued with a dark chuckle and a mocking, “What? Cat got your tongue, little one?”

You traveled with a silver knife strapped to your belt underneath your haori just in case you ever ran into trouble out here, knowing packs of rogue nobushi and the dreaded kairagi wandered these hills, and while you’d never had to use it before, you were beginning to fear tonight would be the blade’s first time to draw blood.

Straightening his posture to stand at his full height, looming before you where his shadow stretched to engulf you in further darkness, the vampire continued, “Now, listen… Here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna drink some of your blood, and if you don’t put up too much of a fight, we’ll call it a night and I’ll let you go on your way…”

All you had to do was slip your hand behind you and reach under the hem of your robe and grip the handle of the knife. You just had to play it off like you weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary, though, when faced with a vampire, you were far outmatched in speed and slyness.

“So wha’dya say? Why don’t you just be a good girl and bare that pretty little neck of yours and—” In a winking slash of silver, you swung the knife at him, actually managing to nick his forearm as he’d reflexively raised it to shield himself at the first sign of your movement.

But now what?

You’d drawn the blood of a vampire but everyone knew the only way to really be safe from one was to kill it, severing the head and watching it roll. You knew you didn’t have a chance at that, not with just a hunting knife and when he already had the upper hand.

But there was only one thing more dangerous than a vampire.

An angry vampire.

And the way Itto’s red eyes flashed at you then under a scowl and the scrunched nose that accompanied a growl of pain and bared teeth, you knew he was undeniably pissed.

“Wrong answer,” he spit from between clenched teeth, and a half a second later, you were on your back in the grass and gasping out a pained wheeze as all the air had been knocked from your lungs upon the sudden impact.

Itto had both your wrists clasped in one tight, massive, black-clawed fist above your head before you’d even had the chance to remember which way was up from down, a dull ache in your jaw from where your teeth had clacked hard together as your head had slammed into the ground. Your knife lay a few feet away in the grass, a thin slice of the vampire’s blood staining the very edge of the blade and turning in black in the night.

You thought you let out a scream when you felt his fangs first pierce your flesh, but the only sound that registered was a high-pitched squeak from the back of your throat as your chest was still mostly empty of its oxygen.

The sting of his harsh bite caused fat tears to well in your eyes, the way he squeezed your wrists together in his clenched palm— so hard you could swear he was grinding your bones together, no doubt leaving dark, blotchy bruises that ran deep under your tender skin with the power of his rough grip— and you struggled under his hold but to no avail.

You’d heard countless rumors about the inhuman strength that vampire’s possessed, but none of those warnings could’ve prepared you for facing the real thing. It was like being trapped under the rubble of a cave-in, body paralyzed under the boulder’s weight and unable to pry yourself even an inch free from the wreckage.

You still tried to fight though, forgetting that all that was going to do was drain your energy even faster as Itto swallowed gulp after gulp of your thick, sweet blood, every new mouthful he stole from you making your body go even more light-headed and limp. You figured he was really going to kill you after all, that talk about “letting you go” from before just meant to mess with you and give you false hope.

As your consciousness started to fade, the world growing smaller in your vision as you gazed up at the starry sky with fluttering eyes, pretty soon all you could feel was the heat of his mouth on your neck. He wasn’t biting anymore, more so just gently sucking at the excess that welled from the twin wounds at your throat, his long tongue teasing at the marks to coax out a few more residual rivulets of red.

You shuddered, making a strangled, whining sound as your esophagus constricted while you tried to swallow the lump that had formed there, suddenly feeling the heat begin to spread to other parts of your body, warming you from the inside out against the chilly night air.

Itto chuckled to himself, low and teasing, as he took a moment to lean back and take in the sight of you, admiring the way you appeared so helpless under his control. Some of your blood still lingered on his mouth, the stain of it shining before he swiped his tongue along his lips to gather one last taste of you.

“See? Things aren’t so bad if you just cooperate,” he said, leaning back in close and taking a sniff of your hair where some blood that had trickled from the bite was already beginning to dry.

Then, using his free hand to wipe away the fresh tears that were just about to streak down your cheeks, the vampire cooed at you and muttered, as if the sweet way he said the words gave them any reassurance, “Don’t worry though… You’ll have plenty of time to learn to like it,” and before you could try to protest or ask any questions or even scream out one last time for help that wouldn’t come, just as fast as he’d appeared, Itto had swept you up and darted through the cascade of lavender, delivering you to his secret little den hidden on the cliff’s edge, scaling the mountainside with you slung over his shoulder like it was no trouble at all.

It was a smart move on his part, securing a hideout that wasn’t easily accessible to humans— if accessible at all— and could only be seen by ships coming in from sea from too far off to judge it to actually be inhabited before the ledge turned the entrance into a blindspot. Most importantly though, it was a place completely untouched by the sun, Itto’s greatest weakness arching overhead but its rays never touching his home as the top of the cliff shielded it all year round.

Once he set you at the center of his den, knowing there was nowhere for you to run now, unless you wanted to drop straight into the waves that crashed against the rocks below, he paced a few strides and plopped right down into his nest of cushions and blankets without a care in the world.

“Please…” you begged, staring at him as more tears welled in your eyes, clumping your bottom lashes together in watery spikes before running down your cheeks in pairs. “Please let me go…” You were sitting on your knees, half slumped over and surprised you hadn’t passed out yet. You were in such a state of shock, you didn’t even have time to notice all the sparkling ore that was embedded in the cave’s bumpy, jagged walls, glittering brilliantly as the light of the full moon reflected off the sea and back into the mouth of the cave.

“‘Fraid I can’t do that…” Itto stated, seeming eerily lax now that he had you in the confines of his personal territory, black-nailed hands clasped behind his head of all that wild, white hair. At first, you’d thought the cherry-tinted tips on the ends of his tousled mane were the faded remains of another victim’s bloodshed soaking into the strands, but now that you were getting a better look at him, you were beginning to realize that it was naturally occurring. In fact, if he wasn’t a bloodthirsty monster who’d just stolen you from nearly reaching your home on the other side of the trees, you might’ve looked twice at him after passing on the street.

He was huge. Massive. So tall you’d have to crane your neck to meet his gaze if he was standing at his full height over you. And he had the bulk to accompany his height, arms and chest and abs chiseled and built like he was carved from the strongest stone, all muscle and no fat.

Another rumor you’d heard about vampires that was turning out to be true— they were all physically stunning, so much so that even without the giveaway of the fangs and the glowing red eyes they were often too perfect to pass for human.

Snapping out of your unwarranted distraction, his previous words finally registered to you and you responded, sounding broken and desperate, “Why not…?”

“Because…” He leaned forward, arms resting over his knees as he bore that scarlet stare right into you— right through you— once more. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve searched for someone like you? Someone with blood like yours?”

You didn’t understand what he meant. Instead of responding that time you just tried to suppress a hiccup from hitching in your chest as you felt yourself about to begin sobbing harder, the mental snare of knowing you might be trapped here forever tightening like a noose around your neck.

Itto condescendingly cooed at you again, pushing up from his seat among the mish-mash of stolen plush objects that seemed to serve as his bed and approaching you, crouching down before you as you hid your view of him behind shaking hands and wept into your palms. You flinched when you felt his hand touch your shoulder, sucking in a startled gasp and expecting pain to follow, but that time his taloned fingers merely rested against your skin, flexing only slightly to test just how hard you’d let him settle his palm around your form before attempting to pull away.

And maybe that time he’d let you. He’d show you he could be merciful so long as you could be obedient.

“Don’t worry…” Itto smiled then, a real grin that was devoid of any of the prior darkness and cruelty he’d worn in the woods. “I’ll make sure you have everything you need. And I’ll only need to feed on you every couple of weeks.” He made those promises like they made him taking you any less of a prison sentence, kept under his will and watch for as long as he wished. “But I can’t let you go. You’re too valuable. Too rare…” He almost sounded apologetic, as if he were saying it was neither of your faults you’d ended up here, just nature and circumstance.

And so, for now, you were resigned to your fate, your new home becoming the cave hidden in the side of the cliff, your gemstone encrusted cage. But Itto had kept his promises, at least. Brought you everything you asked for, snuck into town just to obtain some of your more specific human needs. And when he drank from you, so long as you held still and didn’t squirm too much, it wasn’t actually that bad. Nowhere near as vicious as that first time, at least.

Seasons passed, marked by the changing color of the leaves and snow flurries and scattered sakura petals drifting past the mouth of the cave and falling into the ocean below. You found refuge in your nights, as that was when Itto most often left to engage in whatever vampiric activities you hadn’t been brave enough to ask about. You grew accustomed to sleeping during the day, same as he did, though he stayed buried in his layers of blankets until the final brushstrokes of sunset bled from the horizon and the sky gave way to the navy and silver shield of night while you preferred to stir in the early afternoons just to catch a glimpse of daylight from time to time.

But whenever you did spot a ship drifting far off on the waves of the sea, rocking and swaying as it either set anchor or steadily approached the shore, you never tried to call and wave, never tried to make it known you needed help or saving.

And every time a new one came in bearing a different flag of one of the seven nations, you asked yourself why…

Maybe because, over the past year, the vampire had shown you that he could be gentle and kind, sometimes even had a sense of humor too. You became more like a pet to him than a prisoner, and he was more like a ghost that haunted you than a warden. But you hadn’t given up on escaping this place, somehow, someway.

But not yet.

Not until you thought of a way to make sure he couldn’t hunt you down and drag you right back before you even had a chance to lay your eyes on that grove of thunder sakura again, back where it all began.

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