Chapter Text
—— Tsukune
JUNE 2006 — Yokai Academy
The ominous, unchanging amber sky looms over Yokai Academy like some kind of warning— at least, Tsukune always took it that way. Despite the warm buzz of high school gossip ringing throughout the grounds, the fresh smell of the blooming trees of spring, the thousands of viridian uniforms which flooded in, and the sound of groups of girls giggling, Tsukune could still never feel like any of this is normal.
It’s not always blatantly obvious; slightly longer necks, pointed ears, faces that seemed just slightly uncanny, eyes that bulged out of the face more than they should, and tongues that are long enough to touch the forehead, never mind the nose. But he couldn’t say the same for more of the obvious cases; long, threatening claws, misshapen sharpened teeth, scaled skin, limbs of bugs, wings, too many eyeballs, webbing, tails of cat, dog, lizard, demon, hybrid, whatever, you name it.
Tsukune wasn’t sure whether he preferred when they looked more human, since he felt more comfortable around them, or if the uncanny mystery of their species was even more anxiety-inducing to wonder about.
A school of monsters…— not hard to guess once you hear the name.
Being a human, Tsukune was taught that monsters were all evil creatures that would hunt down and kill humans for no apparent reason. Having been at Yokai Academy a couple of months now, he had to disagree.
Sure, the constant sight of extra limbs or bared teeth freaked him out. Sure, he found it a lot easier to be around those that looked a lot more humanoid. Sure—… well, he didn’t come off that accepting; in fact, he was constantly on edge around his fellow students. But he was uniquely human in a way that caused him to feel empathy for every creature, whether they freaked him out half to death or not.
One particular student, his first and closest friend at Yokai, the prettiest girl he’d seen, the ‘bloodthirsty’ vampire, Moka, had taught him just that. She is a vampire, sure. But Tsukune could get past the myths of evil, blood-sucking, soul-draining creatures if they came with long pink hair, soft skin of pure ivory, pink lips that draw you in… he could go on. She looked almost perfectly human, except when you focused just a little bit more on her sizable canines;
The canines that brighten her already beautiful smile. The canines that stuck out of her lips teasingly. The lips that are moving closer to Tsukune’s face.
The canines that appeared from under said lips and are currently piercing into Tsukune’s neck.
It was a routine the two had. Tsukune was fine being Moka’s personal blood bank if it meant that she got what she needed…
It hurt, but he had gotten used to it by now. A little sting wouldn’t deter him. In fact, there was some sort of strange satisfaction for him; the warm spot where the blood rushed out of his body into hers, the feeling of Moka’s hot breath on his neck, her plush lips pressed against it… it was quite tantalising. With her hair this close, he can smell the sweet shampoo she uses… something with roses. The faintness he feels is something he isn’t sure whether he could put up to simple blood loss, but rather, feeling Moka’s body this close to his seems to drive him mad. He felt there was some level of beauty in sharing this part of himself with Moka, some kind of intimacy in a part of him being something she needs to live. It was like a form of warmth in the stressful mess of a school that was Yokai Academy.
The act was cut off, as it usually was, by an aggressive fist to Moka’s head. Kurumu had never been one to let Moka get any close to Tsukune, especially when Moka would feed on him. Even she saw the strange intimacy of the act and always made sure to cut it off before the session got too long and they began to drift closer together.
“Hey, get your grubby mouth off Tsukune! You’re sucking him dry!”
“Hey, his blood is infinitely more nourishing than tomato juice. Anyway, he doesn’t mind.” Moka softly explains, a slight irritation still peaking through her usual sweet attitude.
“Personally, I’m all for it, isn’t it kind of like a kiss when they do that? Ooo… a neck kiss, even better!” Yukari chimes in from the side, grabbing onto Moka’s arm lovingly.
Kurumu started loudly and passionately lecturing Moka. Something something crossing boundaries, something something making him unwell, something something taking advantage of him…
And once again, Tsukune would watch on from the side, observing the bickering between the girls. Others would find it tiring if their friends were constantly arguing. He just saw it as a peak of humanity that reminded him that even in this place, the teenage girls that just happen to be yokais are just like the human teenage girls back in his hometown.
His friends were the only reason why he hadn’t already gone insane here or died entirely.
A smile peaks through his faux frustration.
—— Hokuto
DECEMBER 2007 — A boat in the middle of the ocean
Yoshii Kiria’s teeth tear through the flesh of Kaneshiro Hokuto’s neck.
The pain is incomparable to anything he’s ever suffered through before.
Except that’s not quite true— it’s the same as every other time Kiria has bared his fangs and pierced his skin.
Every time, he expects it, yet his brain doesn’t catch up to his body. No, his body reacts like he’s never felt this horrific pain before. Like a knife is brutally forcing its way into his neck. Like a parasite is eating him alive from the inside out. The pain squirms under the skin in his neck and reaches his brain. Like pins and needles, his brain buzzes. It’s a comfortable, consistent pain— a strange sensation, one that makes you drowsy, feeling like you’re going to pass out, like all of the blood that’s rushing to your brain is pleasurable. The feeling you get when you’re being choked.
Until you’re snapped back to reality when the canines that are buried in your skin move slightly. When all of a sudden you can feel the pain tenfold and you’re reminded of the two objects lodged in your neck.
Heat pools around the site of the wound, scorching Hokuto as Kiria pumps his own blood inside his body. It wasn’t simple consumption, it was creation.
Kiria’s hand extends and wraps around the back of Hokuto's head. He buries it inside Hokuto’s hair and gently relaxes and contracts his fingers as if he’s petting a cat. Kiria’s hand is soft and pale as hemlock. The cooling feeling of his fingers on Hokuto’s head almost distracts him from the suffering heat of his blood rushing through each and every one of his veins.
Hokuto isn’t sure what Kiria's motives with this action are. He’s never completely sure of the motives behind any of Kiria’s actions. He just does what he feels is interesting. Therefore, what could be considered an act of comfort for anyone else, is simply just a misplacement of the hand or a teasing nudge or an offhanded flirt to Kiria.
As Kiria's other hand reaches to comfortably settle on the small of Hokuto’s back, it becomes even more blurred to Hokuto. He knows deep down that Kiria means nothing by this action; therefore, he isn’t truly comforted, yet the mere physical feeling of Kiria’s cool hand subtly felt through the thin material of his shirt causes his body to shiver. Even when his brain knew there was no meaning to it.
It was no use thinking about this now. It didn’t matter where Kiria was touching him on the outside, when Hokuto could feel Kiria’s blood mingling with his own on the inside.
It started as a spider, crawling up the inside of his flesh. A small tickle that extended from the site of the wound all the way throughout his body. Until the walls of his body started to stretch. Agonising pain as the skin and muscle started to mutate to conform to Kiria’s presence in his body. Stretching, pulling, ripping. Large buboids popping out from the skin. An itch that he couldn’t scratch, an object he couldn’t pull from his veins. Every time, it’s as if Kiria reaches inside of him himself, feeling Hokuto from the inside, the pain as if he had begun ripping his veins out of his body like pulling at string. The hands that had begun pulling at his bones, dislodging them more than they already had been. His bones were permanently broken, only waiting for the chance to move from the place they pretend to stay.
Kiria didn’t say a thing; he never does. He likes to speak with his actions, leaving them up to Hokuto to interpret. He pulls his organs around to his will without a verbal backup as to why— though Hokuto knows why. He can imagine Kiria’s face at this moment, probably a smile. Probably a soft smile, as his hands start to rub Hokuto’s back more intently. Creeping up his spine and leaving him shivering at the touch. Of course, the spine wasn’t fully intact either; it was more of a left-to-right motion as Kiria attempted to follow it up to the bend of his neck. The weight of his hand on his neck and the light pulling of his hair as Kiria stirred his hand softly through it was the only distraction from the strange feeling of his body fundamentally changing under Kiria’s control. His glasses were dislodged from his nose due to Kiria’s proximity; he never quite liked the uncomfortable unevenness of that, but he didn’t mind as much when the warmth of Kiria’s breath on his neck was almost cancelling out the blistering heat at the site of the wound.
The next part was the worst. As Kiria sees fit, his canines unhook from Hokuto’s neck. It was only a minute or so, but it was over enough time for his body to completely acclimatise to Kiria’s blood. Though the outside appearance of his body returned completely to normal, he could feel the inner changes still there, accompanied by an intense throbbing of every muscle.
He first moved his arms, attempting to check whether he had lost usage of them. As he reached his arms, his muscles didn’t stretch quite right; they felt tangled together, rubbing against each other. It wasn’t ideal, but he could still use them.
He then checked that his legs were still unusable. Kiria knew this part well; it was some form of denial, he thought. His legs had been the first thing to go; they were long dead, actively rotting. But Hokuto would check after every time. Kiria moved backwards to accommodate Hokuto’s space; he observed as he shuffled uselessly out of his wheelchair. He was clearly holding back sounds of pain, biting his lip as muffled groans escaped every time he would put a little more pressure on his arms.
The second he arose from his chair and felt the pressure of the floor on his heel, he made an indescribable face. The shock as the excruciating pain set in. A pause. His face was entirely blank before his eye twitched and he immediately fell forward. If not for lack of balance from being out of practice with his legs, then it must be that they had completely broken in on themselves, the bones themselves refusing to stay in place.
“Ah, that’s not good!”, Kiria catches Hokuto before he hits the floor. He speaks as if it was a mild inconvenience; the same way he’d speak if he had dropped an egg while making breakfast.
Hokuto has no choice but to cling on to the material of his shirt desperately in an attempt to stay upright.
Kiria places his hands on his waist as he steadies him back into his wheelchair. “I wonder if your attempts at walking will ever work.” Hokuto ignores his comment; he sees no use in responding to him most of the time.
There’s that slight interest he has in his voice when he comments. Even when he hears the most improbable of plans, Kiria has an interest in them. He knows that they will never work out, but it’s the attempt that gets him going. It's the fact that they try to do something so improbable that entertains him. Particularly when it comes to Hokuto— it’s the rush of excitement he gets when he sees him try. It’s not that he thinks he has no chance; he’s seen that guy pull off a lot more than simply standing. It’s more that he doesn’t care if Hokuto fails or succeeds; he just enjoys witnessing him attempt.
…
“Fuck, you bastard.”, Hokuto groans as he leans back in the wheelchair, his hand reaching up to palm his neck, which still felt inflamed, yet there was a lack of evidence that Kiria’s teeth had been there in the first place. “It hurt more than usual this time.”
“Oops, it might’ve been the angle.”, Kiria leans back against the control pad, giggling, “Sorry~”
Hokuto sighs and clicks his tongue before pulling his arm down from his neck. “Did we bring any pain meds? I know they aren’t particularly effective, but this pain is...”
“Check in the bathroom cupboard, it’ll probably have something…” After a brief moment of silence, Kiria observes, “Still, you seem to be taking it well. You continue to impress me, Hokuto.”
After another longer moment of silence, Hokuto simply nods.
“I miss you when your teeth aren’t stuck into my neck.” Hokuto jokes dryly, without any change in tone to be detected.
Kiria responds to Hokuto’s attempt dramatically, patting him on the shoulder and laughing. “Yeah? Well, I’m up for a bite any time~”
Hokuto simply smirks and reaches his hands down to the push ring of his wheelchair, turning around and wheeling towards the bathroom. Before he reaches the door, he sticks a hand up in the air as a silent parting gesture to Kiria.
“I’ll see you outside, yeah?” Kiria’s amused voice rings out from behind him. He doesn’t respond.
——
The bathroom is small but decorative. Pretty floral tiles back the sink, coloured with faded pinks and blues, offering a serene look. The mirror above the sink is an adorned vanity, with spiralling patterns coming from one point at the bottom, as if blooming. Wooden cabinets with intricate carved designs line areas above and below the sink. Even the toilet, which was a boat toilet, not exactly the most ideal place to do your business, was pristine.
Fairytale was always like this. Despite being a terrorist organisation, they made sure everything was luxurious for every member of staff, even the toilets in the smallest of boats were perfectly maintained, for fucks sake. Sometimes Hokuto wonders about this. It has to be some kind of indoctrination method, giving possible staff the most beautiful of places to stay, making sure even staff officers like Hokuto have all of the stacks of painkillers they need on hand — offering them an alternative, better life, giving them a clear enemy, blooming their hatred. Well, Hokuto didn’t care enough to pay it any more mind, he was a fan of nice-looking things when he had the time to appreciate them, or, now that he could appreciate them.
He would only feel somewhat bad that the attractive view of the bathroom was somewhat tainted by the reflection of him in the vanity.
On the outside, his appearance looks the same as it usually does. Which, based on others’ comments about him, he could assume was handsome. He guesses he could see it: neat features, deep amber eyes, the refined nature of how he presents. But he could never shake the feeling of his insides; they seem to be all he can see when he looks in the mirror. When he moves his hand to unbutton his shirt collar, he can feel his bones move freely inside his body. On the outside, there was no hint of anything being wrong, but Hokuto could feel it, and he could see it if he looked carefully. He can see every tiny rip and tear on his skin as he inspects his neck, the same way he feels it rip when he changes. And if he caresses the skin enough, he can feel the tiny raises where the buboids would seemingly force their way out of his skin. It is all he can see when he inspects himself in the mirror. Every tiny imperfection. Really, he should feel blessed that he’s still as handsome as ever — the suggestion from Kiria a while ago crosses his mind. But how could he ever feel blessed when he is, oh, so ugly?
How much does my body have to change before it stops being human?
The first time Kiria bit him, blood spurted from his neck. Sometimes it still does. He prefers it when it does, because it’s outside proof of everything he knows is wrong with the inside. The wound that Kiria leaves on him is consistent though; he has to be happy about that at least. Generally, he catches his teeth in a similar area, sometimes slightly off, but the mark itself is always neat, with slight irritation and visibly raised blood vessels around the area when it’s new, but settles into two pretty circles creating an unmistakable pattern from Kiria’s mouth. He’s learnt that there’s nothing he can do to calm down new marks; Kiria’s marks decide themselves when they want to stop being felt.
He notices a blurry spot in the corner of his vision. Must be a smudge. Pulling out a piece of black fabric adorned with his initials in gold, a gift from Kiria when he first escaped to Fairytale, he delicately draws his glasses from his face. With thorough movements, he makes sure the spot is gone. Despite the fact that he can’t control his interior changing, he can maintain the outside. Almost obsessively.
When he places the glasses back on his face, checking that they are completely balanced, he reaches his hand across the wooden cabinets, feeling the bumps of the patterns on his lightly calloused fingers, before opening various doors blindly to search for painkillers.
He scans the various and substantial amount of words:
Paracetamol - it’s standard pain relief. Paracetamol has never once done enough for him.
The holy locks start to itch, he goes to scratch them to find temporary relief.
Ibuprofen - anti-inflammatory. There’s no point treating supernatural and unexplainable wound swelling with ibuprofen.
His eye twitches. Itching sensations are somehow a million times worse than pain. It never truly fades out into the background for him like pain does.
Naproxen - anti-inflammatory. Ditto.
Codeine, morphine, oxycodone… co-codamol - opioids, moderate to severe pain relief… well if anything’s going to do anything then sure.
He goes to reach for the co-codamol, but his hand doesn’t work at the same time as his brain, and it falls to the floor with a muffled sound. How pathetic, he thinks. And the itching sensation only irritates him more. This is really fucking annoying. He truly can’t even pick up a small box. His goal was once to change the world; that goal is long dead when he’s in a body like this. He truly is a shell of himself. He yanks his sleeve up to observe the locks. The many chains that wrap around the length of his arm seem to suffocate it. Hokuto pulls at them. As if they will loosen. They never do; they’re designed to be permanent. To keep his body in check. It’s strange knowing that your bones will move out of place and you’ll twist into some… insect… skeleton… creature the second some chains get pulled from your arm.
Whatever, he doesn’t think about it.
He reaches down to pick up the tablets from the floor, pours a glass of water, and swallows.
The more that he looks at himself in the mirror, the more he notices. He spends minutes messing with his glasses, pushing them up and down his nose, making sure they’re completely balanced, tucking the temples under his hair. He observes the bites once more. The more he looks, the more they look like something sensual, like simple play. The visible scars of his suffering look like they imply sex. He pulls his collar up. His chains are still showing. He pulls his sleeves down.
He opens the door to leave —
A muffled cackling laugh could be heard from outside. Hokuto immediately recognises it as being from Kiria. No one else could laugh so genuinely amusedly yet so… creepily at the same time. He peers through the window.
“Now you’ve done it, thanks to you I’ve wasted my time”, Kiria states. His words sound threatening, but his tone sounds a lot more entertained, “as usual, you're such an annoying guy.” A small gremlin, the very same gremlin that was meant to crash the plane Moka and Tsukune were on.
Sounds like the plan must’ve failed then. The entire reason they were on this boat was some order from Miyabi to capture Moka by crashing the plane and retrieving them from the middle of the ocean. Somehow it wasn’t a surprise that the plan had fallen through. It’s a good thing Hokuto wasn’t particularly concerned with trying to capture Moka. He wasn’t sure if Kiria particularly placed much importance on this mission either; no doubt he has some personal whim attached to it, but of course he never seemed affected by any twist in plans — he was always rather excited, actually.
“But despite that, you look like you’re having fun, Kiria…” Hokuto pushes through the door and emerges to the front of the boat, making himself known.
Kiria turns his head to meet Hokuto’s gaze; he has a grin plastered on his face.
“You’re probably thinking something like… ‘it’ll be boring if it’s too easy’, right?…” Hokuto pulls this all the time; reading Kiria like a book. It’s rather obvious that he’s a guy who runs only on whims. Which both makes him incredibly easy and incredibly complicated to understand, “… since you’re a guy who judges things based on whether or not they’re ‘interesting’.”
Kiria turns to fully face him, “Ahaha~, you know me so well~… but it's too bad for you, it was a chance for you to confront that ‘Aono Tsukune’.”
Hokuto knew that no matter how it happened, Tsukune and he would inevitably end up crossing paths. A light smirk, matching Kiria’s grin, “Hmm… I’ll have many more chances.”
Kiria half-skips up the steps to him, “Find any painkillers, hm?” His hand goes to rest on Hokuto’s shoulder.
“Yes…”, he gestures towards the gremlin, “and what are you planning to do with that thing?”
“Oh, I’ll leave him be. I’m in a rather good mood, you know?”
There was no way of dictating whether Kiria would be in a good or bad mood at any time, or even distinguishing which he was in at the current time.
“And why’s that?”
“Don’t you ever just appreciate the beauty of the vast ocean?~” Kiria pats Hokuto’s shoulder and sighs wistfully.
…
“Well, another division will have gotten to them by the time we make it to land...”
“So what do you propose we do then, out here in the middle of the sea~?”
…
“… I propose we make it a bit more… ‘interesting’, as you’d say, by giving Tsukune and his little group a chance to ‘retrieve’ Moka.”
Kiria’s face immediately springs into even more joy than before, “That’s what I’m talking about! Oh, Hokuto, you always make everything so much more interesting!”, putting his hand in Hokuto’s hair and scruffing it up endearingly.
“Right? We can help them infiltrate Fairytale. That way we topple the other divisions by making Tsukune our little ‘tool’ while also making Tsukune feel like he has an advantage.” Hokuto explains while attempting to fix his hair.
“Oh, that’s certainly exciting. Setting him up just to push him back down again.”
“Well, I’m glad you agree,” Hokuto pulls a couple of discs and a disposable phone from his waistcoat pockets, “I have everything prepared, so we can begin with the plan the second we get there.”
“Ooo~ you’re always so ahead, that’s one of the things I love about you~”, Kiria praises briefly before switching to an entirely serious tone, despite maintaining a smile on his face, “but… since you’ve had this all prepared for what I’m assuming to be a while now based on all of this… evidence against the organisation, you haven’t been intending on helping Tsukune this whole time, right? Because of this… ‘connection’ you found yourself in during our time at Yokai, right?”
Hokuto stays silent, keeping his face straight.
Kiria bursts into laughter once again, “oh, whatever, you’re throwing a bone for me either way, right? I can’t wait to see how it unfolds.”
“… yes. Now let’s redirect the boat to land.”
Hokuto feels inexplicably sleepy.