#shuu sakamaki x sora yasutake

[forsakenoathkeeper]

Chapter 13: Mortal Reminder

Shuu Sakamaki x Sora Yasutake

* Please be warned about potential adult content, including violence, gore, foul language, abuse, sexual content, and mature themes. Due to the nature of this series, all chapters will be rated for mature content *

~ About Sora ~ Fanfiction Master List ~ First Chapter ~ Chapter 12 ► (more coming soon) ~ Special thank you to everyone who is reading my OC story. ♥ It means a lot to me and I really appreciate the support.

Shuu wasn't a fan of this bedroom. Aside from the obvious reason - that everything was pink or white and bright and the furniture was of horrible taste - it was also an empty and heartless place. This was the temporary home of all the brides that had been sent to them. Reiji was good at making sure it was spotless, and free of any evidence that it had been previously lived in, before a new bride arrived.

He didn't care about those girls, don't be mistaken. But, there was something unsettling about this room. Perhaps, it was the remnants of their existence that pecked at him when he was in here. He wasn't scared of ghosts, feeble spirits that thought they could cause torment. But, he didn't enjoy the unease of their lingering, like some of his brothers did.

It was, perhaps, the only thing their kind shared in common: dead vampires, too, on occasion, liked to linger. View things were more obnoxious than a ghost that believed its pitiful life was worthy enough to continue existing in the afterlife. Of course, none would dare disturb him.

When Shuu pushed the door and invited himself inside, he found the room to be what he expected: it smelt like the girl, was a little stuffy, but otherwise ordinary. She had unpacked more since the last time he was in here, and had somewhat rearranged a few things.

Her school uniform was washed and ironed, hung up by a hanger that was dangling out in the open, up on a hook near her dresser. She had left her science book open on her desk, on the page where she last been reading. Various notebooks were lined up on the desk, propped up between two makeshift book ends - likely some decorations she had snatched from the study on the other side of the mansion: they were hideous, clearly things that wouldn’t be missed and of Reiji’s poor taste. Her pajamas were laid out on the bed, atop the sheets, which was somewhat made. Her hairbrush was even sitting on the edge of her desk.

Shuu was a bit amused by it. Most of their sacrifices kept this room perfectly organized and clean, at least that he could recall. Then again, this girl wasn’t from the church, was she? A non-Christian, so to speak. That seemed to explain her tastes, then.

At a glance, he could see the spines of her notebooks propped up on the desk. They were colored ones: red, blue, purple, green, orange and pink. He didn't know if there existed any difference between those ones; however, Shuu did know that she was especially protective over the black one - because of course she would choose that color for such devious things.

The black one... which wasn't on the desk.

Had she hidden it? She would do something so stupid, wouldn't she? How annoying... He definitely didn't want to have to actually look for it. But, Shuu stepped further into the room, leaving the door open behind him without much care to getting caught. In fact, it would probably be amusing if she caught him in here. He could demand she supply him with what he wanted and mock her for it... maybe she would disobey him.

It didn't take his keen eyes long to find it. The black notebook was tucked into the small space between the bed frame and the wall. How silly. Was she honestly worried about someone finding it? Shuu leaned down and scooped it up with deft fingers and was out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.

He contemplated briefly on where to spend the remainder of his night. Outside was a thought, but he didn’t usually like to go out there unless he had recently fed, when his body was warmed and satiated. He was cold, somewhat; so, for now, he would stay inside.

Shuu settled for the library on the other side of the mansion. It was massive, with an upstairs and downstairs section. Reiji wasn't in there tonight, leaving the room quiet and not stinking to high hell. Shuu enjoyed the large window on the upper level. It was curved at the top and indented into the wall with a seating. It was the perfect size for him to lounge on and prop his feet on the end cushion, inevitably leaving behind an indent that Reiji would bitch about later.

Perfect.

"Should I have said no to Yuma...?” Sora thought to herself as she set the wet dishes on the drying rack. She pulled the plug to let the soapy water drain. As she dried her hands, she leaned her back against the counter and dwelled heavily on it all.

Yuma’s offer... if she could even call it that... had caught her off guard. Perhaps, however, her refusal was even more surprising. It wasn’t particularly frightening, but felt... wrong. To feel such a way over the thought of another vampire indulging in her... Had she truly grown attached to Shuu? Perhaps, that was just how vampires were. “Marked” and, now, she would only ever belong to Shuu. Was that real? Or was he saying that to make her feel bad?

“...tch.” Sora set the damp towel on the edge of the counter and walked away, leaving the dishes to dry on the rack and suds in the bottom of the sink. She wasn’t thinking about what Reiji would likely to say to her, but that she needed to lay down. She needed a distraction.

Upstairs, the door to Sora’s room was open, but she didn’t immediately consider that strange. She closed the door behind herself and immediately flopped on the bed, leaving her shoed feet dangling off the edge. With the door having been left open, it was a little colder in here than usual, but she didn’t immediately move to wrap herself up in the blankets.

“Would things really be different...?” she thought to herself. She had not once considered Yuma as a way out. She didn’t look to him with eyes that pleaded for help. Maybe because he was a vampire, too. Maybe because some part of her doubted he really could save her. This situation was... her burden.

Then again... Out of worry over her own situation, Sora had briefly forgotten about what Yuma had requested of her. He wanted her to help him remember-... Remember what it was he had forgotten about Shuu? The more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed. What could she possibly do that he couldn’t? She could outright ask Shuu - no... no... she definitely couldn’t do that.

Shuu and Yuma were both vampires, but there was something subtly different about Yuma. She couldn’t really explain it. Maybe it wasn’t really there at all, and she was just imaging things. Maybe it was just the way he carried himself that gave her this impression. But, whatever it was...

“It’s like something out of a-...” Sora mumbled to herself, finishing her sentence mentally. Novel. It was like something out of a novel. Her situation? Sure, it was like a poetic horror, in a way, but... More so, whatever past and secrets were hidden between the two vampires, now that was thought provoking. With that, Sora’s thoughts drifted and she became lost in a daydream.

After some pondering, she rolled over and reached for the edge of the bed. Her fingers touched nothing but the bed frame and she froze up. She rolled over again, this time to look at the gap. Sure enough, it wasn’t there. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. It hadn’t slipped out and fallen. No, it was gone.

“What-...?” Sora began pacing the room, wondering if she had left it somewhere else. It wasn’t on the shelf or in her backpack, though it hadn’t left this room in a few days. She was usually good about keeping track of her things-... Oh. “The door was open... He wouldn’t-...!” She left the room frantically, leaving the door open behind her.

When he opened the notebook to the first page, it was labeled “chapter 8″. Part of him was disappointed for a second. Perhaps, it would have been more interesting if it was that woman’s journal? She was a little more private than their previous sacrifices. Her emotions weren’t always as readable as the girls from the church. Though, that sometimes made her a little more boring.

Then again... reading about her complaining about her pathetic life didn’t sound interesting when he thought about it. What he expected was for this book to be wicked, to hold desires that she kept to herself. Why else would she be so secretive about it? Chapter 8... ah well, as if the rest of it mattered much at all, anyway.

As he began, it didn’t take excellent perception skills to pick up on what kind of story the woman was telling. Suzaku... a young maiden, perhaps a princess, though it wasn’t explicitly stated, quite implied, longed to be with the warrior promised to protect her. She didn’t want to fulfill the duties bestowed upon her: a royal marriage arrangement, essentially, to a stranger. She wanted the man sworn to protect her.

Tch. How typical. It was exactly the kind of material he expected from that woman: a very predictable female fantasy. Yet, one thing did come as unexpected: the perspective. It would have made sense to tell the story through the eyes of Suzaku. But, it wasn’t. It was told through the eyes of her protector.

This chapter began with a battle, one man versus five others, and every little detail of how he defeated them against all odds... and ended in a sort of internal monologue, in which he longed for the girl just the same as she did for him. After that, it skipped to chapter 10, but Shuu wasn’t really thinking about the gaps, just kept reading, occasionally grimacing at the woman’s horrendous hand writing.

Another violent chapter, and it lead Shuu to wonder what kind of woman wrote about such things. This one was less cinematic, but somehow more dramatic. Perhaps she was more masochistic than he originally perceived... or an idiot: an idiot who thought she knew what she was talking about... a typical human with aspirations beyond their understanding.

He was close to the end of chapter ten... but then her loud footsteps interrupted him. He knew it was her before she even got close to the doorway. None of his brothers’ hearts beat that loudly, and none of them carried a heavy scent like that. He looked up even before she crossed the threshold.

“Sh-...! Shuu...” she panted from the doorway, cutting off what was going to be a shout, most likely. Was she actually going to yell at him? How interesting...

She looked a little winded, and Shuu couldn’t hold back a very slight, amused grin at the sight of her. Had she really been that anxious to find him? Shuu didn’t immediately move from where he lounged, curious to see what exactly she was going to do.

“Shuu,” she stated again as she began approaching him. “Shuu, why-... Please don’t take my things. That’s private.” Her tone wasn’t very firm, unsurprisingly. She sounded somewhat pleading, maybe even a little demanding. It was clear to him she was trying to restrain herself. Her eyes were desperate, but also determined.

“That’s cheeky of you: telling me what to do,” Shuu replied, calmly. He maneuvered a bit so that he was leaning up a little more, but still lounging. This leveled their heights somewhat, but she still remained taller as she stood beside him. Even so, she still looked meek.

“Well, it’s cheeky of you to take my things,” Sora replied, a bit uneasily, as if she was testing the waters with her response. Yet, it looked like the words spilled from her lips without much thought. “You are my thing,” Shuu replied without an ounce of hesitation. As soon as those words left his mouth, he could see her expression weaken. “As such, your things are also my things.”

Shuu wasn’t smirking this time. He was dead serious, and he knew she could see that. “I get that I’m your prey, but-” she began. “Do you get that?” he interrupted, speaking over her words. She was silent for a moment, staring at him with doubt riddling those brown eyes. “Shuu...” she spoke his name, a sound somewhat exasperated, maybe even a little sad. Or was she... annoyed with him? How amusing.

“I still deserve some respect. Please-” she gritted out. “-leave my writing alone.” That definitely wasn’t the most pitiful and pathetic please he had ever heard; but, it was most certainly the fakest. Was that supposed to be polite? Was he supposed to believe that she was attempting some humility? Shuu could see it in her red cheeks and glaring eyes, could hear it in her thundering heartbeat... She was mad at him.

He wanted to taste it.

Sora reached for the notebook, as if to gingerly take it from him. She wasn’t attempting to be quick, as if to swipe it from him. She moved steadily, almost like she was asking him permission to take it back. For a moment, Shuu acted as if he was going to let her. From where he held the notebook, it forced Sora to lean over him ever so slightly. Just as soon as her fingers grazed the paper, Shuu dropped the notebook on the bench beside him and used that hand to grab her arm.

She winced at the sudden contact, all her muscles tightening in response to it. For a second, Shuu stared at her face, finally catching the glimpses of fear in her brown eyes. “I don’t like stupid prey...”

Sora cried out as he tore her away from where she stood and dragged her onto the bench, twisting her body around until her back hit the bench and she was pinned beneath him. He pressed one of his legs in between hers as he laid his body over her, one hand to balance himself above her and the other sliding around to the back of her neck, gripping hair and skin as he firmly held her in place.

Her notebook was open beneath them, more specifically trapped under Sora’s body, open on the page where Shuu had left off. How strange... to think that she would consider that worthy of challenging him. Maybe she was unaware that that’s what this was...

“Sh - agh! That hurts!” she cried, wiggling pathetically beneath him. Her hands found purchase on his forearms, squeezing so tightly that her nails dug through his shirt into his skin. She didn’t bother trying to push him off. She seemed to know better than to try that. She was staring up at him with an expression that amused him immensely.

She was a little frightened, sure. It was the kind of fear he had grown accustomed to seeing in those eyes. But, more so, she looked angry. Her jaw was tight, teeth grimacing like she was about to snarl at him. He dug his nails into her skin where he held the back of her neck, mostly to get a reaction. She hissed, squeezing her eyes shut, and unconsciously tilted her head back, as if to lessen the pain.

Her throat never had looked so appetizing.

“You’re nothing but food,” he began, chilled breaths touching her skin. Sora’s eyes remained closed, but her brow trembled slightly as he spoke. “I’ll take what I want from you... your blood... your body... insignificant things...” His tongue tasted her throat before his fangs did, a quick lap at her pulse to make it tremble harder. She flinched once, then again when his fangs met her veins. She tried to mask that sound, a whimper unlike anything he had heard from her before.

Oh...

It was only when he paused that Shuu realized how rough he had been. Had he really been that careless? Or was he more parched than he realized? Blood had gushed from the wound, running down her neck and staining the once pale white pages of her notebook. He could feel how soaked his lower lip was, and even saw a droplet fall from his chin and land on the pages.

Had she noticed? Must have. Her eyes were glistening with tears that had yet to break the surface and fall. “Tch. To cry over something so stupid...” Sora turned her head away, and it was only then that Shuu realized that his grip on her had gone slack. Her eyes were open for a moment before she squeezed them shut. Her tears glistened a trail down her cheeks and joined the blood that stained her notebook.

“Mindless things... mean nothing to me. So long... as your blood is only mine...” Shuu’s fangs found a fresh new place to pierce on the other side of her neck. She flinched silently when those fangs penetrated her skin. She was silent as he took his time savoring her, but he could feel her trembling against him, until she faded from consciousness.

[forsakenoathkeeper]

One More Tomorrow

Shuu Sakamaki x Sora Yasutake One More Tomorrow  [ Part 1/? ]

⚠ Please be wary of adult content, such as explicit sexual content, acts of violence, description of gore and blood, use of foul language, abuse, trauma, and other potentially sensitive materials ⚠

Part 2

When she woke that late afternoon, it was to the smell of fresh rain soaking into the old foundation: musky, earthly. It brought out the best qualities in this old cottage, and the worst. The rain made the small house smell strongly like an old house would. There was a leak at one of the east side windows, though it wasn’t too major. Yet, somehow, it was comfortable, like something out of a whimsical dream.

The tapping sounds of water pummeling the roof was drowned out by the melodies pouring out of the buds tucked into the young woman’s ears. The setting sun normally cast blinding light through the gaps in the curtains; however, the room was dim this afternoon, the covered window dark, unmoving curtains likely blocking the grey clouds that hovered in the sky above.

At some point during her slumber, she had wrapped herself tight in the thick blanket. It was mid autumn and the ocean was a measly fifty miles or so. Wildflowers bloomed almost all year, ravaging sidewalks and the edges of the roads like weeds. It was hardly a cold town, and yet she always shivered and sniffled as though it was, with skin pale, face lacking in pigments, and fingers cold to the touch.

Consciousness steadily came to her and she realized Chopin’s Raindrops had been playing. It was the most fitting coincidence: the free falling rain, the chill in the air, and the setting sun. It all fit in beautiful harmony with the piano and violin spewing from her ear buds. It was an afternoon unlike one she had had in a very long time. She felt oddly excited in that moment, like there was something extravagant waiting outside.

But, when she rose to a seated position in her bed, the earbuds fell loose and landed in her lap. For a brief moment, she was unmoving, frozen as if she had suddenly been violently torn from one reality to another. The deafening silence of the empty cottage was overwhelming. Despite the crackling of the rain and the grumbling of distant thunder, she could hear the empty halls, the vacant rooms, the untouched chairs, the dusty cabinets... white noise that was consuming, swallowing, so painfully... loud.

She grabbed the earbuds and shoved them back into her ears before pressing her palms over the buds, fingers over the conch of her ear, pressing tight as if to block out the silence and trap the music inside. Her head lowered until curtains of brown locks fell over her shoulder and hid her face, some strands pooling at her waist and resting heavy on her thigh.

She drowned out the solitude with the music, hoping she had enough time to finish the song before it was time to get up. She lifted her head and her eyes followed the cord that trailed from the buds towards the side of the bed where her phone laid. She reached over and tapped the screen once to see the black illuminate the time: 6:27. Three minutes until her alarm went off... The song wouldn’t be over in three minutes, but... She fell back on her pillows as if it would.

The lobby was empty and silent for the most part, with the exception of a single business man who was seated at one of the lush arm chairs, clicking away at the mobile computer on his lap. She didn’t understand why he felt the need to do that here, in the dead of night, as opposed to the comfort and solitude of his bedroom; however, judging by his receding hairline and cheap suit, he needed someway to feel important. Working with an audience seemed like a way to achieve that, if she gave a damn, which she did not.

She paid him virtually no attention, and focused on the filing that needed to be done behind the counter. She moved like a conscious-less being, hunching over to file paperwork into the proper drawer then standing back up to continue sorting through the pile atop the counter, before continuing the process: like a machine, with great precision.

A normal person likely would have held resentment for the day shift; after all, they left her this mountain of paperwork, every day, without fail. It would be waiting for her and she would finish it before her shift ended, also without fail. Of course, the day staff wouldn’t dare leave such a mess if they didn’t know she would do it.

She was quiet, she had no interest in their lives... Perhaps, they saw that as an exploitable weakness. Sometimes, she wondered if they were right - if her lack of desire to combat them on their laziness was her passively accepting these aggressions: like a living stepping stone. But... she had yet to say a word, yet to combat their behavior. She just did the paperwork.

The night shift was slow, it was easy, and it worked for her. It was difficult to explain why she was a natural night owl. She simply slept well during the blazing daylight hours, and was wide awake and alert at night. Oddly... the days felt hazy, felt exhausting and long. Nights felt serene, like she could sense everything more acutely. It just felt... right.

It continued to rain through the entirety of her shift. She had intentionally opened a window to let the soothing aromas waft in. It made the place colder, but she didn’t really mind. She set the fire place in the grand lobby and considered it adequate, a warmth to ward off the cold without disrupting the ambiance she was trying to enjoy.

Setting the fireplace paid off when an old couple arrived and waited patiently for a room to be prepared for them, huddled up and farm in front of the fire. Then arrived another business man... then another... A middle aged woman arrived at some point. The woman had yapped on about her life, as if the desk attendant had a single care. She nodded, responded minimally, and was polite, and the woman seemed pleased with that.

Then, suddenly, it was four in the morning, and the next lobby attendant had arrived to relieve her. “Oh my-!” the girl had proclaimed, suddenly. “The window was open the entire time! You poor thing... Must have been freezing!” Although she wasn’t, she smiled and fawned innocence of the ordeal. She was believable, and that was all that mattered. Explaining why the cold didn’t bother her, why the rain smelt so good, would be... difficult.

As always, it had gone by so quickly... Another day, another group of stranger’s faces, another paycheck... She didn’t feel tired, like a normal person would after working. She felt distant, like she was watching someone else’s life float by. Instead of witnessing it, she was experiencing it. But-... No. This was her life. Night shift hostess at the Doroftei Hotel, a day’s drive outside of Bucharest. A quiet, empty cottage waiting for her to return.

“Sow...”

She didn’t need to look up from her book to know who that was, but found it impossible to resist a small smile. Even if he hadn’t chosen to greet her in Japanese, his deep voice gave him away without fail. The bench she was seated at trembled slightly when he plopped down next to her. She closed her book and removed the earbud from her left ear - having decided to leave the right sight unoccupied less someone beckon to her - before peaking at him in the corner of her eye.

There were few ways to explain the attachment she had to him. By all means, it made no logical sense. She didn’t remember where they met, under what circumstances or why. She just knew him. He was her only friend. There was a familiarity that came with his company. They didn’t exchange pleasantries like strangers, ask pointless questions about one and other’s lives. They sat, side by side, like they had known each other forever.

It had been nearly a week since she last saw him. To her delight, he looked healthy today, with his hair tied in its unusual mess of a ponytail, a sort of glimmer in his amber eyes. She never asked why he would disappear for odd amounts of time, drawing the conclusion that he was traveling frequently to find work. His hands often looked rough, sometimes he had bags under his eyes, sometimes his eyes were red and tired, sometimes he-... just didn’t look right. Some part of her mind told him not to press, as if she already knew the answer... an answer she had forgotten.

He didn’t look directly at her, but sat with a long arm swung over the back of the bench, leaning back comfortably, legs spread in a masculine manner. She had paused her reading, out of respect, out of the comfort of his company. They didn’t really speak, merely sat together in silence at the town square.

It wasn’t a city; but, even the quaint little village didn’t sleep at night. The town gardens were illuminated with magnificent lights and a living fountain where the streams and spouts glowed. Cars drove by frequently, but not obnoxiously so. College students from the nearby universities stormed the bars and theaters. Couples sought one and other in the night like secret lovers. It wasn’t what most would consider a good place to read. But, she liked it. It was... alive.

“You’re not eating right,” he suddenly blurted. She directed her gaze at him and saw he was sitting upright now, arms crossed, looking down at her in utter disappointment. The look was kinda scary; yet, she felt no unease under his amber gaze. She didn’t even try to make an excuse or deny his claim, but merely muttered a pathetic, “sorry...”

“The fuck-” he immediately scoffed back at her. She must have made a face because he suddenly snapped his mouth shut and looked anxious, like he was searching for better words. Eventually, he gave up on the subtle approach. “Ya’ should be eating more - way more. Ya’ look like you’re gonna kill over. What is it? ...hah?”

She looked away, feeling suddenly uneasy from his harsh stare and questioning. She had never really had much of an appetite, really. But, lately, she just... wasn’t hungry. It wasn’t an active choice. She wasn’t trying to lose weight or lashing out at the universe. She just... forgot. She was never hungry. The thought to eat rarely occurred unless she remembered that she had forgotten.

“I-... Where is this coming from?” she asked, not harshly or defensively. Rather, she sounded embarrassed over his concern for her health. It wasn’t modesty, but the fact that she didn’t want him to make a big deal about it. “Ahh?” he retorted, tone loud and questioning. “Ya’ look sick - that’s where,” he explained. “Sow-”

“Don’t worry about it,” she interrupted, almost snapping at him. “I’m fine. I don’t need you to-” he huffed, loud enough to interrupt her, before he barked, “like hell,” in a firm, denying tone. “You look-” Again, she interrupted him. “-terrible. I got it. Thanks.” Somehow, through this bickering, she had managed to avoid looking at him, until now. Maybe she expected him to look angry. Instead, he looked-... lost.

“....dying,” he finished, a bit sourly. His eyes had narrowed, but there was no angry in them. Rather, his brow hung low in unease. His mouth opened for a second as he contemplated something, before snapping it shut. She did the same, flapping her jaw for a moment as she searched for the right words. “I’m not... I’ll-... I’ll try to eat better... okay?”

As she stood up, gathered her shoulder bag, and shoved her book inside, she did her best to ignore the expression on the man’s face. He didn’t believe her; but, he couldn’t combat it. “Tch,” he scoffed, looking away almost childishly. “Bye, Yuma,” she said, giving a very slight, almost unnoticeable bow, before turning away from him. She made a single step before he called out to her.

“Sora-...” If she had ever heard him call her properly by her name, it had been such a long time that she couldn’t remember. It made her tremble uncomfortably, feel heavy and ungrounded at the same time. It made her head rattle as if she had just been shaken violently. She turned back to him.

“Forget it,” he said, almost immediately, before her eyes could even catch his gaze again. Just like that, he was gone. The bench was empty, and she was alone, and she wondered... if he was ever there.