(281 words)
Sasha takes a long walk up a short staircase.
Sasha paused when he arrived at the old apartment. He checked the slip of paper he'd written the address down again. Dmitri Raskolnikov… this was definitely the place. He huffed. He knew homes in this part of town weren't nice, exactly, but the place looked nearly condemned.
He shook his head, walking up the metal stairs that lead to the front door, cringing as they creaked under foot. He was not a man who was used to being loud. His wolf-sensitive ears picked up on movement from within before he even approached the landing. Still, he knocked solidly twice. No need to do away with the niceties, not if he wanted them to trust him. The door opened slowly, just enough for him to see Mishi Sadovsky. He winced.
He and Mishi had a history, one only Sasha knew the full extent of. Sasha had hated the boy with shaggy blond hair and soft blue eyes. Little princeling, they had called him. A cocky bastard who had risen through ranks like a firecracker, and exploded just as spectacularly when he had attempted to usurp the pack from their father. Sasha had been smug when he watched Vlad force silver into his maw and held him down until it burned through his cheek, forever maiming his once pretty face. Sasha had thought that with Mishi cast down to the lower ranks, he would have his father's attentions instead.
Whatever good that did him.
Now Mishi stood in a dingy, falling apart apartment, and Sasha stood at the top of the hierarchy, with the blood of his most beloved still dried under his nails.
(2,392 words)
TW: Brief depictions of violence, minor character death
It's mid summer 2007, and Hasumi's big brother came home for a break. The night is quiet and unreasonably warm, and something won't stop dripping in the kitchen.
Summer had always been harsh in their little village. The single old air conditioner they had for their whole house did little against the humid air that seemed to permeate every open space. Outside, crickets and frogs sang.
Inside, Hasu lay half on his futon, half on the tatami mat, clothing askew as he tried to find a comfortable position in the damp heat of his bedroom. He groaned as he shifted again, trying to catch the slight breeze that carried the chirping song of little creatures through his open window. He didn't remember what woke him up originally, some forgotten noise perhaps, but he was finding it near impossible to fall back asleep. The air felt sticky, and while the night sounds of their village would usually lull him, they were intercut by an incessant dripping noise from down the hall.
Drip, drip, drip.
There was no real pattern to it. At times it would seem to stop, only for another round to begin as soon as Hasu closed his eyes.
Drip, drip, dr-drip.
Suguru must have left the faucet on, he thought. His brother had come home unannounced that night. Jujutsu High had been keeping him busier than usual, and he hadn't been visiting as much as he used to, so it was a pleasant surprise when Hasu's older brother appeared at the door in the middle of dinner. Of course he was ushered in, served a plate, caught up on all the village gossip. Hasu almost hadn't noticed anything amiss before their mom said something.
.
.
.
"Suguru, you look exhausted."
Hasu blinked, taking a closer look at his brother. It was true; There were dark circles settling under Suguru's eyes, and he had clearly lost weight. He seemed unfocused, like he was deep in thought. As soon as his mother had drawn attention to it though, Hasu watched as- like a mask sliding into place, his lips drew into a polite smile, crinkling the corners of his eyes like Hasu had seen a million times before. He waved his hand dismissively.
"I'm alright, mother, really. I've just been…" he paused, choosing his words carefully, before deciding, "busy."
Their mother seemed ready to fret more, but their father interjected to ask some asinine question about Tokyo city, and the conversation moved on. Hasu watched closely from then on, noticing the small changes to the brother he knew so well.
Something was definitely bothering him.
.
.
.
Drip, drip, drip.
Now that he thought about it, maybe a glass of water would help him get back to sleep, Hasu thought as he pushed himself up and stretched, adjusting his clothes in case anyone else was up. He could hear some rustling somewhere else in the house. He wasn't sure what time it was, but he could imagine his mother deciding to do some reading in the moonlight, or his father perhaps going to check on whatever was leaking. Or maybe Suguru…?
He hated to admit it, but ever since his brother had gone to Jujutsu High, he could feel the divide between them widening. It was like they lived in different worlds now, and it felt like Suguru was shouldering a heavy burden alone.
.
.
.
"Mom tells me you graduated with high marks," Suguru said as they sat on the front step to their old home, watching fire flies dance against the night-sky. Hatsu smiled proudly.
"Almost the top of my class!" He declared. Even tired, Suguru smiled like he always did when Hatsu told him his accomplishments. It felt almost normal, like they were both in elementary school again.
"How about you, did you pass your exams?" He asked. Suguru looked a little taken back by the question.
"We don't have exams like you do in Jujutsu High," He murmured.
"Lucky," Hasu grumbled back.
"Hm." The response was quiet, and when Hasu looked at him, he saw his brothers eyes had darkened with thought again.
"What do you do instead?" Hasu asked.
"Exorcise curses, of course," Suguru responded tiredly. He looked at his hands, examining something the younger couldn't see. Hasu frowned, then leaned heavily against his brother's side.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
The tension in Suguru's shoulders seemed to deflate. He put a hand on his little brothers head, ruffling his soft hair.
"No, you just focus on being a good student," he replied, that polite smile back on his face.
Then he had gotten up and gone back inside, and Hasu couldn't help but feel like that divide he felt had just cracked even wider.
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.
.
Drip, dr-drip, drip.
He shuffled along the floor, hand on the wall to help guide him in the dark. The air had a musty smell the closer he got to the kitchen. It reminded him, oddly, of a time at school when playing baseball with friends. It had been a muggy day then too, and a foul ball had hit him square in the face, sending him to the nurse's office with a hopelessly bloody nose. He'd been crying of course, the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. It had been Suguru who guided him to nurse, hadn't it? Suguru had always been there, a watchful and proud big brother. His hero. He just wished there was more he could do for him now, when the Jujutsu world he had stumbled into by sheer luck was clearly drowning him.
Hasu stopped. He had stepped in something wet and sticky. The smell of that day at the school yard hit him again, stronger- a familiar metallic tang. Sliding his hand along the wall until he found the light-switch, he held his breath as he clicked it on.
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.
.
What do curses look like? He had asked Suguru that once.
His father slouched forward at the kitchen table, cut precisely down the middle, a perfect cross section length wise. Blood dripped from his open face, his eyeball rolling and dropping into the widening pool of viscera below as Hasu stared, slack jawed.
It depends, his brother had answered. The response was frustrating, he thought he'd been teasing him. But Gojo had agreed. Sometimes, they look like people, sometimes like animals. Sometimes, like things you could never put into words. But there was always something about them that was just wrong. Gojo had ruffled his hair then, grinning as he told him he wasn't missing much by not seeing them. Ugly bastards. Hasu had laughed as Suguru scolded his friend for swearing in front of his little brother.
Drip, drip.
Ugly bastards.
This one resembled a frog, kind of. A great, blue beast covered in warts that seemed festering, its eyes darting in different directions. It ground something in its massive maw slowly, an arm dangling from its lips. There was no way to know for sure from where he stood, but he thought he recognized his mother's ring before the whole appendage was swallowed into the beasts mouth, followed by a sickening grinding of bone. The remnants of a few fingers dropped into the coagulating puddle below the beast with a nauseating sound between a splash and a thud. As the beast chewed, it's wayward eyes suddenly locked forward on Hasu, who took a shaking step back into something warm and sturdy that let out a reeking breath down his neck.
.
.
.
Suguru had been his hero, even before the family had been thrust into the world of Jujutsu sorcery. Their village was small, with not as many kids his age around, so he used to trail after his older brother. He was lucky, he knew, that Suguru humored him. Invited him on his childhood adventures, taught him things, indulged in his childish games. Of course Suguru would be the one to leave their family to protect the world from these unseen monstrosities called curses, that's what Suguru did; protected.
.
.
.
Drip, drip…
Hasu has no idea how he made it out the door. The house was overrun by curses. The frog-like beast had lunged at him, and in his panic Hasu had slipped and fallen in his parent's blood. The fall made the monstrosity miss, barreling into the upright person-shaped creature with too many mouths and not enough eyes behind him. In the confusion, Hasu had bolted, dodging smaller curses that emerged from the other rooms, cupboards, everywhere- Like the climax of a bad monster flick he and Suguru had once stayed up to watch in secret.
Suguru. He had to find his brother. Suguru could fix this. Maybe there was a curse technique that could bring their parents back- hadn't he mentioned a healer he knew from Jujutsu High?
When Hasu pushed past the door, the relief was immediate. Just a few paces forward was Suguru, back turned to the house, but unharmed. He reached a blood stained hand out, desperate to reach him before the monsters behind caught up.
"Aniki!" He cried, sounding younger than he had in years, voice full of fear.
Suguru's body tensed slightly, then he look over his shoulder. Just before him, Hasu locked eyes with two little girls, younger than even him. He had never seen them before. What were they doing in this old village, at this time of night? He moved his gaze up to Suguru who was looking at him with a mix of surprise and something he couldn't quite place that reminded him of the look from their talk the night before. It seemed so long ago now.
"Oh Hasu," he murmured. "You were supposed to be asleep."
Suguru was facing him fully now, arm outstretched.
There are monsters inside, Hasu wanted to scream. Curses, they killed mom and dad. Please Aniki, help! But the only noise that exited his mouth was a harsh gargle.
Something had whizzed past him faster than he could see, two white blurs, before pain seared through his throat. Blood poured in time with his panicked heart beat as his knees buckled, mind reeling to catch up with what had just occurred. Two squid-shaped curses were embedded in the wooden facade of their home, but they soon dissolved into nothing as Suguru dismissed them and stepped forward, catching Hasu easily in his arms as the boy slumped forward.
"Sug-" Hasu wheezed, holding his throat desperately, as if will alone could keep the artery from draining.
"Ssh." Suguru soothed, scooping him in his arms, like he'd done so many times when he was younger. He stood, lifting Hasu's body up and walking back into the house, curses waiting like dogs at their master's call. He set Hasu on the table, brushing the hair from his little sibling's sweat and blood drenched face. "Go back to sleep, Hasu. It will be over soon."
His tone was warm, familiar, but he had never seen Suguru's eyes so cold. He tried to reach out to him again, hand shaking and already pale, but Suguru stepped back, letting his brother's hand drop.
Suguru took one last look at him there on the table, a sacrificial lamb surrounded by what remained of their parents and hungry curses panting and pacing like wolves. He turned and walked towards the door.
"Good night," He murmured as he snapped his fingers, though he doubted Hasu could hear him as the curses converged on the last non-sorcerer to bear the name Geto.
.
.
.
It was always a gamble when telling children they would have a younger sibling, but Suguru Geto had always been mild mannered. He'd taken to the idea right away. In childhood, they had been inseparable. Despite the constant trailing, or the other kids' teasing about his "shadow," he could never bring himself to be annoyed by his sibling.
Even when that little sibling woke him up in the middle of the night, clutching a children's story book, claiming he couldn't sleep, begging him to read to him. Suguru would sigh and despite the summer heat, would welcome the child under his arm at his side as he opened the book.
"Three little monkeys, jumping on the bed…."
Life seemed so much easier then, if a little boring. No curses, no endless cycle of exorcising and consuming, no weight of the world resting on his shoulders for people not worth a damn.
He could never have this back, the quiet life with his family, the only soul depending on him a bookish younger brother. Not now that he knew what the wider world held. What sense did it make for him to clean up the messes of people who filled the world with curses? People who were cruel, who shot little girls dead for a handful of yen, who locked children in cages over things they had no way of understanding?
No, the age of those people was over, and he would dedicate his life tearing it down. He would steel his heart. There could be no hesitation, no compromise. Not even for the little kid who clung to his side, muffling laughter as to not wake their parents as the book drew to a close.
No more monkeys jumping on the bed.
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.
.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The sound was steady, barely audible beneath the beeping and hum of machines Hasu didn't recognize. He wasn't sure why he locked onto that sound specifically, but something about the steady monotony soothed him.
His body felt stiff, like he couldn't quite wake up from a deep sleep. Voices carried from down the hall- was there even a hall? Some felt familiar, but he couldn't place them. Finally he managed to open his eyes- or…One at least. One side of his face was covered firmly with… something. Gauze? His uncovered eye focused on the ceiling- white tiles like he had seen in school or office buildings. Or a doctor's office.
With great effort he turned his head, wincing as the tug of movement caused his neck and eye to throb painfully. Confirming his suspicions, he saw medical equipment, things he didn't know the names of, an IV line in his bandaged hand. He tried to lift it, but only succeeded in making his hand twitch.
How did he get here? He tried to think back. What had happened before he fell asleep?
It had been an unreasonably warm summer night and his brother had come to visit. Something was dripping in the kitchen. But beyond that, Hasu Geto couldn't remember a thing.
If the world deems Warych unworthy of love, he will make it himself.
He ran his fingers over the coarse, white hide. It was warm- just under the flesh, life thrummed. Muscles coiled, twitched; a heart pumped, hard and fast, erratic. Warych held his breath, staring at the beast laid out on his operating table. The culmination of his biochemistry had led here, and it would all come down to this moment. The clock ticked, the monitors beeped, and the mad scientist closed his eyes tightly, willing for the abomination before him to move.
"Gone? Gone where?" He had been incredulous. No answer Sirius gave would have satisfied him.
"Off to play pirates, I assume." his friend had responded flippantly, eyebrows knitted in annoyance. "What does it matter?"
It mattered a great deal. Andromeda Strand was his, wasn't she? Where, then, could she have gone that was more important than at his side?
He'd made a mess of his lab then. It was easier to give in to rage than the truth; she had left him, he was alone again.
Love would never be given to him so easily, he realized. If he wanted affection, loyalty, unconditional devotion, he would have to make it himself.
He started with live specimens. It was messy work, to combine living bodies. Most died immediately, bleeding out before he could connect artificial arteries, making a mess of his laboratory table. He went over the research, once, twice, as many times as it would take. Lesser men had managed to transplant living tissue, and he would not be outdone by lesser men.
She haunted him while he worked, the specter of his past life. Small, silent, pitiable. She was always there, just out of sight. Mocking him, he thought.
The animal, if it could be called that, gave a guttural scream, legs spasmed as it fought the restraints of the table. Blood oozed from it's maw, as if it's very insides were liquefied. Warych supposed that could be a possibility.
"You're hurting them." The small voice that had once been his whispered.
"They're weak." He responded readily, though he didn't know why. He knew it was better to ignore her.
"She wouldn't like it."
That got a reaction. He spun, throwing the injection gun at the wall where she should have been. It shattered against the wall, the specter unharmed and looking at him with her one visible sorrow-filled eye.
"Be silent. You don't know a god damned thing." He hissed. "You never did."
Green-blood had always been of particular interest. He had heard Vegapunk was utilizing it to create "soldiers of peace". A waste, Warych thought. But the notes were useful.
He began a new approach. He would build his beast from the ground up, isolating DNA from favorable creatures. He thought himself fanciful, modeling his creation after a manticore. A dog would be the base, he decided. Man's best friend, a loyal companion. He chose a boar next, for their durability. A thick hide and robust system would give his creation a better chance to survive. He added the strength of a lioness, admiring their beautiful musculature. The retractable claws would be a bonus. As he built the concept, he added a snake for the venom, and to round out the beast that had inspired him.
The canine embryo had been easy enough to acquire, but the splicing was more delicate work. He spent long hours in his lab isolating, rearranging, injecting.
The first two were failures. The growing stem cells rejected the new ones he'd introduced. It was as fascinating to watch as it was frustrating. He took notes, reworked his plan, and tried again. The third lasted a week before it ceased functioning, a bundle of dead tissue floating in it's stasis chamber. He tried not to let it get to him. This was science, trial and error. He took more notes. He tried again.
Over and over. Failure after failure. Loss after loss.
He had made a mess of his lab again in his rage. Breaking glass, shoving aside tables, scattering papers. What good were his notes when nothing would work? He backed against the cold, metal wall, maddened gaze sweeping over the chaos he had wrought, then pushed his hair back with a groan. He slid down the wall, pulling his legs awkwardly to his chest and cradling his head in his arms like a child.
It wasn't fair. He went over the data in his head, trying to grasp the missing link. Trying to ignore the nagging feeling in his chest, the thought that he'd been pushing aside since his experiments began.
Why had she left? Why wasn't he good enough? What did her pirates have that he did not?
To make things worse, his specter stood just in front of him, looking down at him, nervously fidgeting with the hem of her dress.
"I hate you." he said.
"I know." she replied. Passive, pliant.
Had he truly been like that once? The thought made him sick. He lifted his head to glare at her, but she had moved to the mess of papers on the floor, looking at one in particular.
"What are you doing?" he asked, too tired to properly hiss at her.
"Thinking." she said softly. She looked back to him imploringly.
Warych rolled his eyes, but he unfurled himself from his pitiful slump. He tried not to seem too curious when he approached the mess of papers. Even if she was a figment of his imagination, he refused to give her the satisfaction. Pride aside, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the paper she had found. It had a large red stamp across the front page labeling it "Confidential: For World Government Use Only."
Slowly, he picked up the papers, quietly arranging them in their proper numbered order. How had he missed this? He glanced at the specter. When she met his gaze, he looked quickly away. He set the research packet on his desk, then set about fixing his lab.
He had another experiment to run.
Lunarian blood had been the key. It had been an absolute nightmare to obtain. He wasn't above using his family's name to get what he wanted, but even that had limits. Eventually, his Grandfather had relented.
Lunarians were extinct, or they should have been. Years ago, one had been found. He was captured, and heavy experimentation was conducted. The research was thorough. Unfortunately, a wild beast of a pirate had crashed the lab and stolen their subject. Much of the organic specimens had been lost in the resulting fire. There hadn't been much blood or tissue left to work with, and apparently it was being used for Vegapunk's peace project. Saturn had eventually procured just enough for one trial. It was liquid, organic gold, and Warych would have to ensure his specimen was perfect before he used it. He would have only the one chance.
He didn't use an embryo this time, instead opting to fertilize an egg in isolation. He needed absolute control in all variables. He took his time, telling himself he was giving the cells time to grow stronger before introducing the next stage, but the truth was he was nervous. After days upon days of failure, he had only one shot with this rare piece of bio-matter. When he could put it off no longer, he tried his best to steady his shaking hands.
He poured the Lunarian blood into a fresh test tube, capping it and placing it in the centrifuge. He isolated the matter, the very DNA, the same process used in producing green blood. He worked slowly, every movement timed and deliberate.
It took hours of delicate work before he had something usable, a syringe-full of viscous golden liquid. He was exhausted by the time it was done, but for the first time since he'd begun this wretched work, his eyes shown with eager anticipation.
His beast grew in another incubation vat, surrounded by something akin to embryonic fluid. He had developed it in stages, letting it grow then pulling it out to graft the particulars, before placing it back in place to recover. A monitor tracked it's small, steady heartbeat.
Warych considered the best way to introduce the Lunarian DNA. An injection could put too much stress on it's delicate system, as had happened in previous attempts with regular green blood. He could wait until it was stronger, but then it's cells would already be developed and may not take to the DNA he had so carefully isolated.
Eventually, he opted for a new vat. It was bigger, comically so when he placed the small creature inside. But if he did everything correctly, his beast would need the room as it grew. He developed a new formula for the embryonic fluid. It would take some tending and monitoring, but it would nurture the cells, building them into his vision- a gentler way to introduce the new matter. It was to this mix that he added his Lunarian green blood. He watched it enter the tank and slowly disperse into the mix. There would be no immediate way to know if it worked. He had nothing to do but wait. He wasn't a patient man, but when he finally sat in his desk chair, sleep tugged him under, making up for lost time.
He and the specter were one in the same. He knew it, as much as he didn't want to admit it. She was him, a past he wanted to forget and bury; and he was her, the future she desperately longed for.
It was Jaygarcia Millie that Andromeda had first met, fresh from her isolation, scar covered by hair that had grown longer than she was used to. It was to Andromeda that Warych had dealt the first blow to that lonely little girl.
"What's your name?"
"Warych."
He had worked to bury her ever since, but she refused to die. After all, she was him. The same stubborn will to live, to be seen, to be loved. She was his constant companion- she had no one else. If he would not love her, she would simply change her perception of love. It would be enough to be noticed.
Andromeda noticed him. Acknowledged him, even. That was even better. In turn, he acknowledged her, every chance he had. Hadn't that been enough?
Hadn't that been love?
Three months. That was how long it took for his specimen to reach it's full size. It's full potential. It was canine in appearance, it- no, her- fur was bright white. It had developed shining black feathered wings. That had been a surprise. It's fangs were large and sharp, and he could see it's retractable claws poking from their sheaths. He ran the tests. Everything was exactly where it should be.
He ran his fingers over the coarse, white hide. He hoped, willed, even prayed, but the creature did not move. He felt a weight settle on his shoulders.
Another failure.
He expected another bout of rage, but he lacked the energy. He let his hand drop from the warm body. It was alive, but nothing more. He didn't doubt if he turned off the machinery still attached to it, that erratic spark of life would cease. He considered it, but turned. Let it live awhile longer, what did it matter? He retreated to the wall, dropping again as he did so many months ago, before he had discovered the Lunarian notes. He tuned out the beeping of the monitors, letting his mind drift once more to Andromeda.
Andy. She'd asked him to call her that. She was out of place in Mary Geoise. A pity project, their classmates had said. Even Sirius, her half brother, was often unkind to her. But Warych had found her fascinating. He trailed after her, protected her when he could.
And she acknowledged him. After a year of isolation, of being hidden away, she alone had given him something invaluable; her attention.
But she wasn't happy, the nagging voice that was probably Millie whispered in his ear. He buried his his face further into his arms.
"Don't you think I know that?" He thought back. "I could have made her happy. I could have…"
But you didn't.
He didn't object this time, just let the truth settle over him. He didn't. He had been plenty happy, and he had ignored her suffering. But he had known it. Andromeda had been trapped, a bird in a gilded cage.
Freedom. That was what the pirates had given her that he couldn't. She had always lived with a foot in both worlds, but Warych would never not be a Celestial Dragon. He thought of her on the open sea, the wind and salt in her red hair. That laugh that had been so rare up here in Mary Geoise spilling freely from her lips. His heart ached at the thought.
Something rough and wet touched his hand. Alarmed, he lifted his head. His uncovered eye met deep amber ones. They were cat like, pupils slitted, but rounding as the settled on Warych.
His beast stood in front of him on sturdy legs, wings folded neatly at her back. She leaned forward again, pressing her wet nose to his hand, huffing warm breath over him. Warych stared, struck. He looked at the creature. He could see her ribcage expand and contract as she breathed. Her scaly, snake-like tail swept across the metal floor. Slowly, he raised his hand. The chimera made a noise like a purr and leaned into his palm. For a moment he was silent.
"You're… alive." He said slowly.
The creature chuffed, looking at him.
"Is this…" he paused, trying to decide the words. "Love?"
The creature fluffed her wings and nuzzled his hand, blinking at him with all the affection of a loyal hound.
And for the first time in a long time, Warych tipped his head back and laughed.
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