#500themes

[entireoranges-creativity]

Tanka series

Title: See piece for titles TV Show: Game Of Thrones Ship: Braime For: 500 Themes (236, 286, 439, 214, 325, 51, 124, 147, 262, 345, 426, 440, 103, 454, 354, 189, 33, 398, 186, 330, 2, 429, 97) Note: Using the Japanese form of the tanka (some counts might be off, I’m not perfect) Disclaimer: I don't own, don't sue

One Thousand Promises (#236) Her lady wanted him alive. Couldn't fathom why. The King Slayer? Still she'd give her life for that promise. Only that mattered.

Demon Tongue (#286) Misogynist words keep falling from him. Seeking out her reaction a battle she won't give. Not to him or anyone.

A Soul Divided (#439) Without permission his heart tears for her. Laughter fills around them, she stands tall and firm. Perhaps he misjudged. Respect silently begins

Balance Of Power (#214) It wasn't personal he just wanted her dead. Swords clash against. Struggles with hands bound tight not because she was better or equal

Invisible Defender (#325) Confusion mixed with fear as he's brought out of sight had he just saved me? she wonders when thoughts are stopped by the most horrific scream

Uncontrollable Wrath (#51) She wants to know why wants him to fight, seek revenge only sees a weak man. A coward muttering about death, his.

The Truth About Forever (#124) Barriers are dropped as he promises a truce. Reveals himself to her. With each word disbelief fills her, could this be the truth?

Resonating Hunger (#147) Too stubborn to ask for help. Frustration spills out from his left as her fork slams into the wanted meat. No thanks is said out loud

The Beginning Of Goodbye (#262) Soul burns as goodbye is exchanged. This isn't right. Heart yells say something don't leave her, help her! Silent save for a promise, a vow.

Breath Of The Devil (#345) Volunteers himself to the bear, or at least serve as a shield until she is save from claw,s or far worse doers of evil; man.

A Tale Unwritten (#426) Home. He never thought a sight so beautiful would reach his eyes once more. Then those eyes land on her, he knows this land can not compare now.

Speak Not The Secret You Bear (#440) Her tongue is caught in her mouth. Heart pounds so rapid. As the statement rings through her head. Love? With him? Believed had hid it so well.

Gentle warmth (#103) "For Lady Catelyn' she paused, seemed to take a breath before she added 'and for you." He then stares in disbelief; his heart warming.

Dream the impossible (#454) Of every name which could be said he never thought Oathkeeper would be told to him no explanation he knew the respect it held.

Island of light (#354) He already knew where they were but he still questioned just to hear the name her name, or a part of it where she built her heart and soul.

The In Between (#189) "Will always be yours." he tells her as she held out what looked to be his sword, they both knew the truth but still neither acknowledged this.

Desperate Plea (#33) "Fuck loyalty!" spits from her lips anger nearly shaking her. He can only repeat the same not ready to act, so she leaves.

You Raise Me Up (#398) With each word said he feels humbled almost unworthy of the praise and respect but the love between the words that effects deeper then thought real.

Memories Unfurling In The Mind (#186) "If you'll have me" When she thinks he can no longer surprise her becomes the fool gladly. Stares at first then nods holding back a smile.

I Wish Upon Tonight (#330) "Arise a knight of the seven kingdoms." Don't cry she pleads to herself. Locks on his eyes senses he too is thinking the exact.

Terror In The Night (#2) As he watched her drop from the wights nothing else then mattered concerned for her safety and life only on his mind and also heart.

I'll Try Violence (#429) Fingers stumbling her patience dissipating. Pushes him away more to help herself then him stops self from shaking, breaths deep.

Approaching Doom (#97) She knew she never could keep him, his past pulled too hard. But fight for him to understand he was a good man was worth the tears

[wonderfulchaos69-blog]

Title: A Ghost of a Rose Fandom: Servamp Characters: Sakuya, Mahiru Summary: The best remedy is often a poison, tempered and tamed. Notes: I wanted to give writing Hanahaki disease a whirl, but a little differently from how I usually read it. And that resulted in this. Something completely cheesy. 

In Spring, flowers begin to blossom and small buds begin to form anew. Growing and growing, until color once more filled the void. It should have been a beautiful sight to behold. Something that everyone could look forward to after the freezing depths of winter that had set in and shook them to the bone. A way to shake off the frost and brighten the days ahead. And most were, expect for one young man who felt he couldn't breathe every time he looked at his best friend.

His chest felt weighed down, heavy with something he couldn't describe. He wouldn't have known how to put it until words, until he noticed that he had developed a cough - and with the cough came its own set of worries, for he had never before seen someone spew petals from their lips. Let alone from loving someone too much, to the point flowers grew within their lungs.

He had seen many ways in which humans died, but he had never seen an infection of this sort. The likes of which didn't bother him, for he was already immortal. It was the discomfort, and the way pale pink and rotting petals crumpled and fell with each cough that made him uneasy. He would often look over and wonder if Mahiru would notice, if the flowers would have meant anything to him. To ask that, though, would be too much.

So in silence he suffered, as the flowers took root and grew bigger with each day spent at his best friend’s side. He grew tired faster, and he stopped eating. Both human food and food that was truly fit for him, because he couldn't stomach it. His throat too sore, his heart too barren, and his mind too full of an impending demise.

There was one person he knew that could help him make sense of such a thing, but in the end, asking was too much trouble. He would rather suffer alone than spread that which made him suffer in the first place. He was too used to spewing pretty words, and now he had pretty flowers to accompany them. Fragile and loving as they were, always there to remind him that he had found something that would not lead anywhere. For what hope did anyone have of being loved when they were a liar, of being loved when they hated who they were?

Thus, he suffered. Each breath harder to take in.

"Sakuya." But each time he heard his name, it was a little easier somehow. Fresh air to his starving lungs.

"Yeah, Mahiru?" He didn't look up from his desk, continuing to doodle on his test paper. A good grade stared back at him, when he didn't eve try. The classroom was empty, of that he could tell. It was the two of them, alone, and what a treat that would usually be - but at the moment, it made his chest ache. "Did you need something?"

"Are you okay?" Said with such genuine care, Sakuya didn't have a choice but to raise his head, his hand paused over the silly fox he had been drawing. "You don't look so good ..." Sheepishly, Mahiru rubbed at the back of his neck, a nervous smile blooming on his face. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Choking back a laugh, Sakuya lowered his eyes back to the paper, finishing up his sketch of the fox with its mad grin. "No, no. No worries! I'm fine. I promise. Everything is A~okay!" He made a joke of it, brandishing his completed art for all to see. "Look, look, Mahiru! Isn't it cute?"

For a moment too long, Mahiru studied him and seemed not about to accept that answer. Then, with a sigh, he agreed, "Yeah, it's pretty cute." Tensing up a heartbeat later, Mahiru continued on with an urgency to his voice that Sakuya hadn't heard in a long time, "But you're cuter."

The paper fluttered to the ground and Sakuya simply stared, mouth agape and his throat constricted for an entirely different reason. "You're ... kidding?" That seemed too easy, too invalid. Was that meant to cheer him up? How cruel.

Pink tinted Mahiru's cheeks, the same as that of the petals, and he shook his head, saying, "No. I ... I like you, Sakuya. Please, let me help you."

Covering his eyes with his hands, Sakuya gave a laugh and shook his head in return. "You already are," he admitted, the flowers in his chest bursting into full bloom, only to fade away and welcome with it something warm. Something that could stay. "You already are."

"Oh?" Confused, Mahiru asked, "How?"

"Hey Mahiru, do you like the movies?" When he received a shrug and a tilted head in response, Sakuya told him, "We should go on a first date. There's never a wrong time for a first date. Yeah?"

Blushing fully, Mahiru turned his head away, admitting, "I'd like that. But are you going to tell me what's bothering you, if we do?"

"Hmmm," grinning much like the mad fox he had doodled on the paper, Sakuya said, "Maybe? Or maybe not. All depends on how that first date goes!"

"Now that's bribery," scolded Mahiru, "but okay, fine. Let's make it one you won't soon forget, how about that?"

If only it could last as easily as that, as easily as saying the words and making it so. But for now, Sakuya would enjoy the ease of the blossoms in his chest, the remedy of having his feelings returned, and perhaps in time it would become a permanent cure that could withstand the test of time.

[wonderfulchaos69-blog]

Title: The Vampire is a Part-Timer Fandom: Servamp Characters: Sakuya, Mahiru Summary: Sakuya decides to have a little fun at his part-time job, because hey, a vampire's has to relieve stress somehow. Especially when he can't go drinking blood all willy-nilly. Notes: Hints of SakuMahi. Something silly for @crazyanime3. Feel better soon!

The lights overhead were blinking with a short circuit, but Sakuya bent lower and squinted to see the bar code on the side of the box, cursing his misfortune inwardly rather than vocalizing it. His coworkers already thought he had a few screws loose, after that one time he asked if he could buy a fox plushie at half price and then went outside and stomped on it. He came back with a smile on his face and none of his fellow employees had looked at him the same way again. If he started cursing at innocent boxes, they would have more cause for worry.

Instead, he just picked up one of the stuffed cats inside the box and decided to take a guess as to where it belonged on the shelf. The job didn't pay enough for him to care any more than that; and where he did place the cats, he made sure it was orderly and looked nice at least. The last cat did not meet such a fate, as he squished it in his hands. It reminded him a bit too much of a thorn in his side, the real thing as black and fluffy and stupidly cute as the plushie he was venting his frustrations out on.

He did eventually place the cat on the shelf, once a customer gave him a disturbed look that he eventually had to smile and laugh off, saying he got lost in his thoughts. Not exactly a lie, when it was based on truth. He caught a glimpse of his haggard face in the nearest window and decided it was time for a break, for which he approached his manager in his typically over-the-top way, proclaiming he was starving. Also not a lie. All the tempting customers walking by were a four course meal on two legs. A vampire only had so much restraint before he decided to take a bite, hence the break. See, he wasn't a liar.

Taking off the apron that marked him as an employee, he set it aside in the break room and then went about exploring the little shop on his own time. A peaceful time in which no one could complain about him slacking off. He wasn't like that good-for-nothing cat that lazed about - he at least had a work ethic. Now, if only he could show that to Mahiru, the friend that had a stupid cat like that in the first place.

He stumbled upon the section of the store that was full of nothing but little character charms. One in particular caught his eye - a typical anime protagonist, with hair that spiked up in every direction and a bright grin to accompany it all. It reminded of the same friend he was thinking of and he picked it up, his gaze straying through the rest of the charms until he came across one with green hair that looked more like an idol than a protagonist of any sort. Deciding he liked that one too, he picked it up and grinned.

With Otogiri's influence in mind, he started to put on a puppet show that to make his Subclass sister proud. "Fancy meeting you here, Mahiru!" gasped Sakuya, wiggling the little green haired charm in the direction of the protagonist look-a-like. An imitation of jumping up and down, because he could admit he did that sometimes. "Hey pal, let's go shopping!"

Letting his voice taper off from bubbly to stressed, he answered, "No thanks, Sakuya, I'm busy. Clothes to do, a cat that would starve without me - and would you look at the time? I should be going."

"Awww," crooned the little green haired charm, "do you have to go? Always so busy these days. When do you have any time for me?"

In a flat voice, the protaganist told him, "I will have time for you later. I saw you at school, Sakuya. What more do you want?"

"Hmmm," the green haired one sidled up next to the protagonist, "well, if you're asking, I guess I can give you an answer!" Then he looped the little green haired charm around and had it begin to lean in, not realizing he had attracted an audience. Someone clearing their throat behind him alerted him to the presence of someone else and he quickly returned the charms to their proper places with a faint glow to his face. "Er, excuse me," he started to say, turning to face his unexpected audience, only for his cheeks to turn redder as he realized it was Mahiru.

The one day he did something stupid and it was the same day Mahiru stopped by to see where he worked. Karma had it out for him. "Not what it looks like," insisted Sakuya, rubbing at the back of his neck. "You see ..."

"Not asking," Mahiru interrupted, holding up a hand. "I'm just here to say hi. If you're busy, I could go ...?"

"No!" Toning it down a notch, Sakuya amended, "I mean, no. I'm not busy."

"Cool, let's go shopping together then."

He wasn't sure how long Mahiru had been watching, but Sakuya was of the opinion that his face was permanently red by now. At least a very different scenario was playing out than the one he imagined, and he liked how this one was going even more. Any time spent with Mahiru was time well spent.

[wonderfulchaos69-blog]

five stages of grief

Title: Grief Has Many Names Fandom: Servamp Characters: Kuro and his siblings (including Tsubaki), Sakuya, Koyuki, and Mahiru. Summary: Moving on takes time and patience, and some gentle nudging in the right direction. Warnings: Major Character Death, suicide mention, alcohol mention. Notes: I was going to have this up earlier, but something came up ;; My apologies for the delay and here’s the full-length story. Also, warning - it’s a long one. By the way, this was heavily inspired by P.S. I Love You, thanks to some devious minxes that put this idea in my head. (And kudos to anyone who recognizes the new contract item at the end.)

"Kuro, do the dishes," instructed Mahiru as he put their groceries away. He was soundly ignored as the person on the couch snuggled down deeper in the cover he was half-buried under. With a sigh, Mahiru repeated, "Do the dishes. I asked you before I left, what is this? Rebellion?"

The glow of a game console lit up Kuro's face as his eyes darted from left to right, playing instead of listening. "Yeah, yeah, wait until I get to a save point."

That was when Mahiru decided enough was enough and marched over, snatching the console and turning it off without even having to look. Testament to how often this occured, that he knew exactly where to find the off button. "Look, this is getting ridiculous. Ever since we moved out here! What is it that you don't like?"

Hunkering down in his blanket, Kuro mumbled, "Nothing," and made an aborted gesture to retrieve his game, but the dead serious look he found in Mahiru's eyes made him pause and reconsider that decision. It wasn't anything in particular he didn't like, but the change had been so sudden. Living together for years in the same place and then moving to a new area out of the blue, there had to have been a reason behind it. That reason, whatever it was, had not been shared with him. They had simply moved because Mahiru said they were moving. As two people under contract to one another, there was little say that Kuro had in the matter. Not that he had minded before, but there was something off about it this time.

Since he didn't want to tell any of that to Mahiru, he asked, "What about you? Why here?"

It could have been a clue, the way Mahiru glanced at the window with the slightest of unease, but that wasn't much of anything to go on. It could have meant many things - that he liked the street they were on, or there was someone he was closer to here. The possibilities were endless. In the end, Mahiru's reply was as lacking as Kuro's answer had been: "I just like it here. It's simple." Then, with a soft look on his face, he leaned over the couch and placed a kiss to Kuro's cheek. "Don't worry about it. We're in this together. Now, help me with the dishes."

Groaning, Kuro stretched out and brushed his blanket aside, and then dutifully slinked into the kitchen to do what was demanded of him. "Can't deal ... what a pain. You're a slave driver, Mahiru."

"Oh yeah?" Mahiru wondered aloud, returning to the groceries that needed to be put away. "Say that again to the person fixing your meals. I dare you." Threateningly, he waved a can of cat food. "Look, I even stocked up on your favorite."

With a paleness to his complexion that had nothing to do with being a vampire, Kuro hurried to the sink and began filling it with warm water. "I hate you sometimes."

"Sure, sure," Mahiru told him absently, a fold smile on his face, "and I was kidding about the cat food being for you. I was going to surprise you, but why wait? We're getting a cat!"

"... A what?" The dish in his hands clattered back into the sink, splashing soap suds down the front of the oversized shirt he was wearing. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope, it'll be good for you. To have something to look after while I'm at work," promised Mahiru. "So do your best, Kuro. I'm counting on you!"

--

Twin green eyes were looking at Kuro with a glossy sheen, as if the tiny thing in his arms wanted to cry as much as the rest of the mourners dressed in black. It was an unusual funeral, humans and vampires and an assortment of people that no sooner would be in the same room as they would rather die. A true mix and match of the people who had come and gone in Mahiru's life, and yet they had turned up to mourn his passing all the same.

Kuro wasn't sure what he was supposed to be feeling as he gazed upon the picture on display, smoke from incense curling around the frame. It was like looking at something that wasn't quite real, an illusion, a fabrication that couldn't possibly be the truth. The surreality of it had him disbelieving his eyes. Surely, that couldn't be Mahiru that had passed away. He would go back to their cozy little uptown apartment and snuggle together on the couch with a movie like always as they waited for sleep to come for them. The cat they had been raising for months would be nestled in-between them, soaking up their warmth, and they would be content. Warm, and happy, and no abrupt game overs for once.

He didn't remember how he got home, but he did remember pulling the blanket over him as he held the black kitten closer, the both of them curling around each other in their cat forms as he tried and tried to sleep. It wasn't a success, but the warmth was soothing the sting that had started to slowly prickle at his heart, a sting like tiny needles poking holes where the void was once filled.

Days began to blur. Often, he would pick up the phone and dial Mahiru's cellphone like he had done when his Eve was at work. It went to voicemail straight away and that was when he would hear the voice he had been missing, a bubbly, "Shirota Mahiru speaking! Keep it simple, okay? I'll get back to you soon!" By the end, before the beep, he would end the call and redial the number. Relishing in that one bit of Mahiru that hadn't been taken away.

He didn't go out anymore. Not for groceries or to visit with his siblings. He didn't keep the place clean either, refusing to touch anything that had to do with Mahiru. Memories of his Eve standing there in an apron and a feather duster still appallingly real that he could see it when he closed his eyes. He could almost hear him reprimand: "Kuro, why aren't these dishes done? You're slacking again!" It was by now a habit to lay about and refuse to do much more than ensure the cat was fed.

At least that was one thing he didn't have to worry about; Mahiru had made sure to provide food for the cat, months and months of it. He could be as lazy as he wanted, for as long as he wanted. He didn't have to eat, not really, and he couldn't even die if he should starve. The pros of being a vampires, some would call it. If only they could see, if only he could show them the way his mind was collapsing into a stormy desert that no longer had a place to seek refuge.

Sometimes he could hear the answering machine in the apartment record a message and he would listen with half an ear as his siblings told him that he needed to pick himself up and move on. Hollow words of condolences from those who had lost Eves, but hollow only in that they weren't the ones that had lost Mahiru. They could know of his pain, but they could not begin to imagine what he felt when the one light he had found had so quickly been snuffed out, like a candle flickering in the world's ever changing wind.

He would have continued on a path of self-destruction if there hadn't come a pounding at the door, someone demanding to be let in. Out of instinct, he hid under the blankets he had pooled around the television, encouraging the cat to hide with him. The sounds from the movie were, for a moment, all that could be heard. Then the jingle of keys and the lock being turned. An intruder letting themselves in, which immediately raised his hackles.

His switch from human to lion was easier these days; he was able to control the size, too, after days of practice with Mahiru at his side. He didn't let the reminder sway his concentration, more concerned about keeping the apartment intact despite wanting to guard it with everything he had. With a growl, he nudged the cat backwards with his snout and directed a well-placed hissed at the person who stood in the doorway, the door still wide open.

"Down, tiger. I come in peace," his guest assured, rubbing noticeably at his arms as he pretended to shiver. "Hey, mind if I shut the door already? It's cold outside. Who knows when it'll start snowing."

Changing back, Kuro slouched back down into his pile of blankets. "Oh, it's just you."

"I'm insulted," continued his guest, kicking the door shut before taking off his shoes out of courtesty. "Look, we need to talk."

"You're doing fine with that on your own," Kuro muttered as he picked up the remote and clicked through the channels to find something to watch. "Keep up the good work."

"It's about Mahiru," his guest insisted, coming to crouch by the blankets, "and you're going to want to hear this." There was a crinkle of paper as something was taken out of the other's pocket and then a snap as it was flourished. "Let's see, guess I'll just read it to you since even Mahiru doubts your abilities in that department. 'Dear Stupid Cat and my dearly beloved Sakuya' - no joke, he totally says this. Can you believe how much this guy loves me?"

Snatching the letter out of Sakuya's hands with a hissed, "Give me that," Kuro read what had actually been written:

Dear Kuro,

By now, I'm guessing Sakuya has shown you this letter in good faith and taken my words meant solely for him to heart. He is a much better person than you think he is, so please give him a chance and believe that what you're reading is real. This is from me. This is from Mahiru. If you don't believe me, I can keep it simple. How about I reveal one of your secrets?

No, that's not something I would do. Were you worried? No, I can prove I'm me in a much easier way. You see, in a few minutes there should be a delivery. Ask Sakuya to get the door and continue reading.

There was a knock at the door as predicted and Sakuya didn't have to be prompted to go get it, his back turned as he discussed what needed discussing with the person on the other side. It seemed too staged, too easy to trust in the contents within, but he kept reading with the hope that Mahiru had written the words.

Knowing Sakuya, he's probably read through this letter. You're fooling no one, buddy, I know you did. Ignore him, Kuro, don't let him get under your skin. Just trust me, ok? I thought long and hard on how I could make this easier on you. You know, this whole passing on thing. I didn't want to leave you earlier than either of us thought. You have to know that. But fate had other plans, so I'm writing this to tell you: Just because I'm gone doesn't mean the world ends.

You know what's coming next, don't you? This is my last command to you: go out and have fun, Kuro. It's your birthday today. Enjoy it. Because I enjoyed having you in my life. I'm glad you were born. 

Now get out there and show me how much fun it is to be alive!

Simply yours, Mahiru

P.S. I never told you, did I? Well, better late than never. I love you, Kuro, from the bottom of my heart. I hope I conveyed that through much more than words while I was with you. You were my special someone. Remember that. You were my someone.

On his return, Sakuya brought with him with a large white box. He opened it to reveal a cake inside, cut into the shape of a cat with blue icing and white whiskers. The words done in black read: To my someone, Happy Birthday! And taped to the other side of the box, the very top, was a smaller box with a bow on it. A present. Sakuya pried off the tape and then handed it over, looking disgruntled.

Kuro didn't pay it any mind, as Mahiru had advised, and teared apart the wrapping to get to the gift inside. He held up the belled collar and swallowed back the tears he could feel building behind his eyes. A replacement for the bell that had shattered as soon as Mahiru had breathed his last. The card at the bottom of the little box told him: You can keep your name, because you'll always be Kuro to me. It wasn't the same, and that wasn't how a contract worked, but he wouldn't give up the name Kuro for anyone in the world. Not anyone.

"Well," commented Sakuya dryly, "my duty is to make Mahiru happy. So whether you like it or not, we're going out to have fun."

Since it didn't look like he had much choice, Kuro left to get cleaned up. He could worry about cleaning the house later. Or maybe, if he was lucky, he could have Sakuya do that, too.

--

Their ideas of fun wildly differed, but Kuro appreciated the attempt. At least, he pretended to appreciate the attempt. His inner self was correcting him about how much he loathed the loud music and would have preferred to be anywhere but where they currently found themselves. An actual party was the last thing he needed when he would rather be sleeping, something that still eluded him like the clouds in the sky.

He didn't see the point in going out and having fun when there was no one to make it worthwhile, but if it was what Mahiru had wanted, he couldn't really say no. Not that Sakuya would have let him, but that wasn't the issue here. The real issue was that he had no idea what he was doing among people he hardly knew, lurking in the shadows while colored lights flashed and bodies pressed together for what constitued as dancing these days.

It didn't make sense to be here, but it would have felt more like defeat to leave; and losing to Sakuya wasn't something he wanted to do either. It was less of a pain to stay where he was and appreciate the effort of following through with what had been asked him - that last command. In a way, it meant more, because he didn't have to obey. He could turn around and walk right out of this club and nothing would be able to stop him, no contract to nullify his escape.

Still, if there was one thing that Mahiru had taught him, it was that running away wasn't always the answer. He needed to face things head on. Easier said than done, but he hadn't left yet and that had to count for something. Doubly so, when he knew Sakuya had chosen a place he would have disliked the most as the beginning point for their night out. As if planning to test his resolve to stand with Mahiru, as if there would be anything to doubt. It had been a long time since he had been free, but it didn't feel that way. Instead, it felt more and more like shackles tying him down.

He could even imagine the way Mahiru would have reacted to this sort of scene, taking him by the hand and leading him out to the dance floor. Mahiru would have called him a wimp for hiding away and insist that to make up for it he would have to be the best dance partner he could ask for this evening. In the end, Kuro would comply and literally sweep his Eve off his feet, because having a few surprises in store never failed to impress. Mahiru would laugh and they would kiss; it would be the perfect set-up and he would later thank Sakuya for making the whole thing possible.

When he caught his eyes roving the room, seeking his wayward Eve, he put a stop to it and pushed off from the wall to go get a drink from the bar. It made sense that if he couldn't forget, he might as well force himself to forget. For one night, to stop feeling the presence of the one he had lost everywhere around him. A daydream that ended when he was refused the alcohol that Mahiru would usually be the one to supply him with, on the rare occasion they had a drink together.

From behind, he felt someone lean against his back. Back to back with someone that should have been a complete stranger, but they weren't. It was someone he was all too familiar with, as he said: "Get off, Sakuya."

"I'd like to," admitted Sakuya, "but your mopey face is making that next to impossible. Loosen up! You act like you're the only person that lost someone. How arrogant do you have to be before I can punch you in your stupid good-looking face?"

In askance, Kuro asked, "You think I'm good-looking?"

"I hate your guts, but I'm not blind." Straightening up, Sakuya took a step away and then placed both hands on Kuro's shoulders to force him to turn around. "Look, I get it. It's not easy. You lost someone super ultra extra special to you. But you know what? Mahiru was my best friend, and you have to be stupid not to see how much it hurts that I have to keep being that to him, even when he's gone and I want to do nothing more than to forget everything! To forget you! Do you think I like being your chaperone? Yeah, right! I enjoy it about as much as I'd enjoy a hole in my head," he added that last part happily, with a smile, and insisted, "I'm not letting you leave until you at least dance with someone. Anyone!"

"Then dance with me," instructed Kuro, "since you make it seem impossible to do otherwise."

"... Uh, that wasn't what I meant." Taking his hands off Kuro with a hasty back-step, Sakuya explained, "You can dance with anyone that isn't me."

"What?" pressed Kuro. "Can't dance?"

Miffed, Sakuya fixed the tie he had donned especially for the outing. "Can't dance, me? Not funny. Let's see what you can do, kitty cat."

--

With achy feet and a headache to match any hangover, Kuro woke up in time to see the sun setting again. After finally getting some long awaited sleep, it didn't surprise him that he had wasted a complete day in the throes of Morpheus' hold. He didn't recall any of his dreams, but he knew that Mahiru had been in them, a warm but empty hole in his heart accompanying him as he started to grasp that he was back in reality and more alone than ever.

That lonely illusion was shattered as he realized someone was laying over his legs, snoring away, and he couldn’t mistake that color of hair anywhere. "What are you still doing here?" demanded Kuro, half-kicking the other vampire off the couch where they had crashed for the night. "Get lost already. I thought you didn't like being a chaperone."

"Ugh, do you have no consideration for others?" Sakuya bemoaned as he got up and tried, in vain, to fix his hair. "Well, the only reason I'm 'still here' as you so kindly chose to acknowledge. Thanks, by the way, I just love adding bruises to the collection - well, the only reason is that I have another letter from Mahiru." He scrambled about under the vest he was wearing until he found what he was looking for: the next letter.

Kuro didn't wait for it to be held out to him, snatching it without any regard. Another one, another missing piece to Mahiru. It was cruel, in a way, for Mahiru to keep teasing him like this, but that didn't stop him from tearing into the envelope and devouring the words inside with little to no hesitation.

Hey,

Don't forget there's a bottle of painkillers in the bathroom. Knowing Sakuya, he took you to the loudest place he could find and you're going to need them.

You probably didn't expect another one these, did you? Well, there's a lot of them left. I might be gone, Kuro, but you're not getting rid of me that easily. There's some things I need to make clear to you before I can move on. Before you can move on, too. I hope you'll trust me and hear me out, okay? That's all I expect, really, for you to just read these letters until the end.

Kuro, I don't have any more commands for you. That really was the last one, that command to go have fun. Did you have fun? I hope you did. Sakuya knows how to have a good time. I wish I had let him take me out more often. If it hadn't meant leaving you behind, I would have. 

You see, I cared more about making you happy and maybe that was my mistake, but you know what? I don't regret any of it, because the memories I have with you outweigh all of that.

I do have something to ask of you. Like I said, no more commands. I just want to ask you: make lots of memories with Sakuya for me, would you? That would make me happy, to know that the two of you are getting along. Think you can do it? I'm counting on you.

Simply yours, Mahiru

P.S. Tell Kuroi that I miss her, too. Give her lots of pets and kisses from me! Don't forget, she has a vet appointment coming up. Maybe you should get checked out, too, while you're there? ... I think Sakuya may have invaded my sense of humor. Blame him.

With eyes of utmost judgement, Kuro stared hard at his guest, willing him to just leave and make life easier for them both. Instead, Sakuya sighed, "Oh, don't give me that. Let me guess, Mahiru wants us to be best buddies? Doesn't surprise me. Now, come along, kitty cat. You've got an actual cat to be taking care of -" he pointed to the kitten, her ears laid back as she observed the situation with a nervousness about her frame, and told him, "- I think she's waiting to be fed."

He couldn't argue with that, and grudgingly, Kuro got up to take care of the one memento he had left of Mahiru. The jingle at his wrist reminded him that he had one more now, though. A collar that would be too small for his neck, but which fit snugly at his wrist. It wasn't the same, nothing would ever be the same as the bell that had made up their original contract, but it was still a lasting gift he had from Mahiru.

Unfortunately, unlike a contract item, he would have to take great care of it too. It could break, tarnish, and fall apart with age; too human in its essence. He would have to care for the bell, like the cat, in Mahiru's place. And it was better than nothing.

--

After the vet appointment, that Sakuya had tagged along for out of morbid curiosity (to see, as he put it, if Kuro would get 'checked out'), they headed back to the apartment. The place wasn't as empty as they had first left it, however. A young child-like person was lifting up trash with the most disgusted expression upon his face. Gloves on his hands and trash bag at the ready. "My gods, man, what has become of your home?"

"That's my business," corrected Kuro, snatching the trash bag and handing it to Sakuya. "And my new roommate’s business, too. Hey, clean up the place while I make our guest comfortable."

"You're joking, right?" Sakuya asked, eyebrows twitching in a wickedly condemning smile. "You want to die, right? I can kill you, yeah?"

Ignoring the death threats, Kuro moved to the kitchen and set down the carrier he had used to transport Kuroi in. He let her out and then went to put the kettle on the stove, commenting off-handedly, "I'll make some tea, I guess. You want some too, Sakuya?"

"Die," encouraged Sakuya, and he promptly tossed the trash bag aside. "What are you doing here, Pride?"

Addressed at last, the tiny child puffed up, cheery a could be as he brought out a letter he had tucked away in the pockets of his fancy little suit. "Ah, thank you for reminding me, good fellow. You see, I have something that I think both of you will appreciate. It was left in my care by the late -"

It didn't take much more explanation and Sakuya was the one who made it to the letter first, Kuro reading over his shoulder:

Sakuya, Kuro,

How are you? Did the appointment go as well as I hope? Make sure Kuroi stays that way, promise me. Make sure she remains that strong, proud, healthy kitty that I remember and love. Oh, and you too, Kuro.

You might be wondering why I sent this letter with Hugh, but that's a simple answer. He volunteered. He thought it was romantic, you see, this idea that I had. Don't condemn him for helping me. Actually, you should be on bended knee thanking him. Without him, I don't think I would have had the courage to keep up these letters. He kept me going when things got dark. For your sake, Kuro, and by extension ... you too, Sakuya.

This letter isn't about anything in particular. I just have a message and that's it.

You see, the next letter is going to be delivered by ... someone you might least expect, and I wanted to prepare you for it. That's your warning. Be prepared!

Simply yours, Mahiru

P.S. The kettle's boiling, Kuro! Go make that tea you promised. And listen to some of Hugh's stories. You won't believe some of things he's told me.

Rushing to do just that, Kuro made tea for three and sat down to listen to Hugh go on about his Subclass and their misadventures in dating. It was the last thing he wanted to be doing, but he did find himself laughing quietly at some parts. Imagining, as imagination was wont to do, what Mahiru's reaction had been to some of these tales. His presence still lingered, like a ghost, in his mind; and he wanted to be haunted forever.

--

When the fourth letter came, its' carrier was not what he had expected and he was quick to shut the door in the person's face. Rubbing sleepily at his eyes, Kuro had trouble believing that he wasn't dreaming. He hadn't seen Tsubaki in ages and to have him here now, at his front door no less, that had to be something out of a dream gone wrong.

"That was mean, big brother!" It was followed up by a stream of laughter that was cut off on a world-weary sigh. "Sakuya is there, isn't he? I'm here to see my dear Subclass, let me in."

That made more sense and Kuro could allow that one. The place was less of a mess, too, so he didn't feel that much embarrassment from letting his littlest brother in to have a look. He did draw the line at Tsubaki touching picture frames and cooing over how cute he looked alongside Mahiru. He walked right up to the pictures in question and slammed them down, cracking the glass in the process. It meant he would have to replace them later, but it felt too much like an invasion of privacy to not to hide them.

"What are you doing here, Tsubaki?" Though he continued before his little brother could comment, adding, "Besides visiting Sakuya, because we both know that's not the only reason."

"Correct!" cheered Tsubaki, clapping until the long sleeve on his right got in the way. "Well, you probably guessed it already, but here!" The expected letter fell out of the long sleeve, a red flower pinned to the front. "You had such a feisty Eve, you know? He wouldn't take no for an answer. So here I am." Looking around, the man spotted what he had come in search of, lighting up with a thrilled crow of, "Sakuya!"

Cursing, since he had been trying to hide, Sakuya attempted a quick escape. "Oh, not you again!" His attempt was foiled as Kuro stretched out his leg and tripped him up, which escalated the cursing into three different languages. "You are dead meat, cat! Stir fry, we're havng stir fry for dinner tonight!"

"You're so funny, Sakuya," giggled Tsubaki, helping his Subclass up and giving him a hug. "You look well. Here I thought you'd be a mess with your favorite person gone. But look at you two, getting along like old friends. I'm so proud. Ahhh, kids these days. They grow up so fast."

While Tsubaki and Sakuya caught up on each other's lives, one more willing than the other, Kuro took the letter into the next room and read the contents inside.

To my someone, tomy  Kuro,

I bet Tsubaki has taken Sakuya off your hands for a bit, so I can ensure this letter reaches you and you alone.

Do you remember where we first met? Ah, that's a stupid question. Of course you do.

Well, I want you to go there. I want you to go back to where we met.

And I want you to find something new. You'll know what that something is when you find it.

Simply yours, Mahiru

P.S. Go save Sakuya, I think he might need your help.

The end of the letter was punctuated by Sakuya screaming, "Let go already, hug's over!" That was no doubt his cue to go to the rescue. But if he took his time, who was going to scold him really?

--

Going back to where he had first met Mahiru was harder than he had thought it was going to be. Each step toward that alley made him painfully aware that he wouldn't find Mahiru there to take him home again. It was also dark, unlike that first meeting where they had made at dusk, as the sun had begun its slow descent on the horizon. There were nothing but stars out and a half moon to guide the way. It made everything quieter, muzzling the night life as he stepped into the abandoned alley.

There was a door open in the alley, to some shop or other, and he could hear an argument from inside. The owner of the place was getting angry with one of his employees, but the sounds of it. Something about daydreaming on the job. Understandable, when the employee was probably underpaid and overqualified for the position.

After being forced out on a break, the employee stepped out of the door and Kuro stopped in his tracks from where he had had been mendering down the alley. Though older, he would recognize one of Mahiru's friends anywhere. From their scent alone - and the fact that the man in question still had the same soft features and gently framed face by brown hair that curled around his ears just like his honest smile upon his lips.

"Woah! Is that you, Kuro? I mean, I know Mahiru said we would meet today, but I wasn't expecting - ah, hey! Where are you going?"

The answer to that was simply: anywhere but here. He couldn't believe Mahiru had thought this would be a good idea, that this would be okay after losing the one person that had saved him in so many ways. This was the one way in which he didn't want to be saved. He didn't want to move on and find a new Eve. Even less did he want one that would remind him so strongly of the one he had lost.

Not paying attention to where he was going, he ran into someone else. Without stopping to apologize, he went to swerve around them and hurry along. To get away. The person who he had bumped into wasn't having that and grabbed him harshly by the arm, halting his progress before it could properly begin. "What's the rush?" demanded that smooth voice he was coming to loathe with every passing day. "You too much of a coward to even exchange some small talk with an old friend?"

Growling, Kuro told the person, "Remove your hand or I will remove it for you. This is not for you to decide, Sakuya."

Holding up his hands in a peaceful gesture, Sakuya shrugged. "Yeah, yeah. Not me. That's your business. But hey, think about why Mahiru set you up like this before you really jump off the deep end, 'kay? Because, as you might have forgotten, there's no longer anyone around who can control you and your ultra moodiness. Just saying!"

That said, Sakuya skipped off down the alleyway and Kuro could already picture him slinging an arm around Koyuki and exclaiming, "My, it's been ages! Care to grab a bite with me?" It nearly made him turn around and put an end to that charade, but he couldn't fault Sakuya for being less of a coward than he was and that was what kept him walking away instead of turning around.

--

It was a hot, coiling feeling that had stirred in his chest and that made him restless for the entire evening that followed. He wanted to sleep and welcome the dreams that had him chasing after Mahiru's ever departing form, but it was getting harder and harder to separate one thing from another and he was tired. Too tired. He didn't want to think, let alone dream anymore. He wanted -

The smell of ramen wafted through the air and he was surprised to find that he was no longer as alone as he was despairing over. The window was open, the culprit in his and Mahiru's kitchen and making use of everything in it. The woman had tied up her long hair and looked quite nice in the plain black apron that Kuro had always used when Mahiru asked him to help with dinner. At least she hadn't touched the one that he had hung up in the closet or he wouldn't have been able to forgive the trespassing. As it was, he was content to appreciate the meal being made for him as he hopped up on the counter, asking, "When did you get here, Wrath?"

"Hello to you too, brother," she called half-heartedly, pushing an envelope in his direction. "I heard tonight didn't go well, so I came to deliver mine early."

"Huh," was his answer as he plied open the envelope without any real conviction, that coiled feeling in his chest only tightening as he took out the paper and read the words.

Did you run away, Kuro? The accusation hurt, but it was exactly what he had done.

It's okay, you know. I'm not mad. I figured you would, and Koyuki's not mad either, if you’re worried. I didn't have any real motive in mind for getting you two to meet, but I did want you to talk with him. Possibly just explain to him some of the things I couldn't. Some of the things that were too painful. I told him about us, by the way. He knows everything. He wasn't at the funeral, though, and neither was Ryusei. I couldn't tell them in person for some reason. Perhaps I'm as much a coward as you.

Could you at least tell him, if you see him again, that it wasn't because I didn't care about my childhood friends? I simply couldn't look them in the eyes after all these years apart and tell them: I'm dying because my brain is dying. How does one tell that to anyone? It was hard enough telling you.

So please, Kuro, make ammends where I could not. It's not too late for you.

Simply yours, Mahiru

If anything had been within reach in that moment, he would have swiped everything off the counter and gone on to find more. Trashing the place, if he had to;  but there was nothing, nothing to find but the ramen that his sister had set beside him during his reading. A kind gesture amidst the turmoil of his mind. He crumpled up the letter and cast it aside, dragging the ramen closer and thanking her for her efforts.

It stung that he couldn't thank Mahiru for his.

--

Days came and went until another of his siblings came forward with a letter. This time it was Greed, and Lawless was all too happy to read the words aloud where Kuro would have preferred silence and peace. "To the shut-in known as Kuro," started Lawless in his best imitation of Mahiru's voice. It was slightly off-key and too scratchy to be taken seriously. "Ah, I might take creative liberties," Lawless warned in advance. Too late, as he ploughed on, "I do so hope this letter finds you well and safe. You're not mad at me, are you? Awww, how cute, are you two fighting even when he's de -" His brother ducked the plate that had been aimed at his head and Kuro tsked, lounging back in his chair as he waited for Lawless to go on.

Clearing his throat, Greed continued, "I am writing this time to tell you what I would like done with my clothes and other items of concern. You have to start thinking about it, Kuro, and I'm here to make sure you do. Well, I sent Hyde to fill in for me, but you get where I'm going with this. And who better to help you sort out my things than the One and Only Lawless? ... Your lover boy sure is charming, let me tell you! Sure knows his stuff. Let's see, where was I? Ah, yes. Simply yours, Mahiru. P.S. This means my apron, too, you can't keep it forever. Just as I was not meant to be yours forever. This doesn't make our love any less, but forever is an awfully long time, don't you think?"

Quiet for a moment, Lawless considered what he had said and then set the letter aside, folding his arms behind his back as he surveyed the apartment's open closet. "Where would you like to start?"

Grumbling, Kuro told him, "With you leaving."

"In a bit," assured Lawless, turning to the other person in the apartment instead. "What say you, good man? Have you the sight as well as the gift?"

"Cut it out," Sakuya beseeched, but he peered into the closest to actually answer the question. "I can take a few guesses what needs to go where while the lazy ass collects himself, but you're going to have to do the donating. I don't trust myself." It was the first real admittance to not being over Mahiru that Sakuya had made in quite some time, and it caught Kuro's attention, making him look up from where his gaze had fallen to the floor. There was hurt lurking in those red, red eyes where before Kuro had saw nothing but lies before.

And if one of them could do this, then he would be damned if he didn't get up and help. It didn't make it any easier, but at least together it would go be done faster.

--

Another letter arrived with the shout of, "Fight me, brother!" Gluttony barging into the apartment like an elephant stampeding through a city. It did get his adrenaline pumping, as he rushed to make sure Kuroi didn't get out through the front door. Luckily she had been asleep that night with Wrath, but World End hadn't bothered to shut the door and the kitten was wide awake and ready to escape at a moment's notice.

With the cat safely in his arms, Kuro let out a relieved breath and kicked the door shut where his brother lacked the manners. "What are you doing here?" was becoming his reoccurring question when he knew and suspected what the reply would be without the help.

The produced letter was a welcome sight, regardless, and he tentatively took the envelope once Kuroi was put back on the ground. As he dodged World End's jabs and punches, he retreated to the room he had shared with Mahiru while Sakuya entertained their guest. He readily ignored the crashes and bangs he heard as he read:

Hi again,

How are you doing lately? Did everything go all right with getting rid of my things? I bet the place looks bigger without all my stuff in the way.

Is it beginning to sink in that I'm not coming back, Kuro? I hope so, for your sake. Don't stay there forever. Take Kuroi and move as far as you need to - Sakuya's there to help, so make sure you take advantage of that sweet deal while you can! You will not believe how much money he and Tsubaki have. The perks of working in a world we hardly know about, I guess. But once these letters stop, I'm afraid that's when the deal ends. There's only so long I can tie him down with a promise. Just like there's only so long that I can keep you, Kuro.

Eventually, you're going to get a new name. Not today, maybe not tomorrow. But one day, it's going to happen. Don't be afraid of changing it, because I told you before and I'll tell you again: You'll always be Kuro to me. And that's what matters in the end.

Simply yours, Mahiru

P.S. I know I have done nothing but make you sad in these past few months, but I sent chocolate with your brother. Cheer up, enjoy some candy, and if you could ... give them both hugs for me. I think everyone needs a hug every now and again.

When Kuro came out and did just that, hugging both of the people in the apartment, they immediately started checking him for a fever and asked if he was contagious. He almost refused to share his chocolates with them, until he noticed it was half gone before he could even hold it hostage.

--

Jeje stopped by on a rainy day when the sun was hidden behind the clouds and they were free to move about heedless of the light. He didn't stay to chat, but he did take Kuro's hand in his and gave it a squeeze as he handed off the letter meant for Kuro's eyes. He thought about that and what it was Jeje was trying to tell him as he opened up the envelope and glanced over the words.

This time it was a long one that spoke at length of what Mahiru had been like as child; it read as an autobiography, the last part he would ever have of Mahiru and one that would age just as much as the bell and the cat and the grave site he would continue to visit for many years to come. The letter told him of a tree fort that Mahiru had built with his uncle as a child, hidden in the woods. A secret place where he could go when he was sad and didn't know what to do with those feelings. It instructed Kuro to use that fort, too, when he saw fit. Giving him a reprieve from the world, while the letter before had told him to leave and find his own way.

Still, even in death, Mahiru was looking after him. That was more of a blow than any of the others letters had been. A realization that Mahiru wasn't trying to be deliberately cruel with each word he wrote, but trying to make him face the reality of this new world without his Eve - and it was a reality that he discovered he was going to need that tree fort for after all.

When he arrived at the edge of the forest mentioned in the letter, it was to the sight of Lily holding out another envelope and not looking at him as the rain soaked the paper through. The words were blurry as he read them, but it was a simple sentence within and one he could make out anyway: Someone is waiting for you there. He glanced behind him, squinting through the rainfall and partially expecting a familiar head of green hair to be darting behind a tree. There was no one, save his younger brother and the eerily quiet forest in front of him.

He brushed the branches out of the way and climbed up the tree that led to a crumbling fort, pushing the half-hanging door to the side to take his first peek inside and see, not to his surprise, the person he had run away from in that alley months ago. He didn't ran away this time. Instead, he held out his hand and stared, asking, "Did you get a letter, too?"

"Yeah," admitted Koyuki sheepishly, handing over the envelope he had protected with his rain jacket. "It told me to meet you here and to give you the last one meant for you. Nice to meet you?" A hesitant addition that Kuro took a moment to acknowledge with a nod, right before ripping open the letter and drinking in the final words that he would ever see in Mahiru's tidy handwriting.

Dear Kuro,

Time to say farewell, isn't it? You know all about me now, just as I came to know all about you. It's time to let someone else in, though. Someone you barely know.

For instance, did you know that Koyuki's been having a rough time and I was too blinded by my own problems to see it? Did you know that he was hospitalized and nearly died before me? I was stunned when I found out, and then I realized I couldn't help ... that I would make it worse if I tried.

So, Kuro, I'm counting you. The last thing I will ask of you, not command: Take care of my friend.

Forever simply yours, Mahiru

P.S. You have plenty to take care of now. I don't have to worry, because I know you can handle it. And you know what? You have plenty to live for now, too, and don't you dare forget any of it.

"You ..." Kuro's gaze found the human's and he narrowed his eyes. "What have you done?" The smell of blood shouldn't have been as strong as it was, even dulled by the rain. It wasn't as tempting as Mahiru's had been, but it was a smell that was too familiar to ignore. "Did he tell you to give me a name?"

Koyuki shook his head and glanced pointedly away. "I used to come here with Mahiru sometimes, when we were both sad. We called it our special place. I'm surprised he told you about it. I liked keeping it a secret, even if it's falling apart now ..." His voice hitching, Koyuki folded his hands in his lap and Kuro could make out red marks at his wrists, where a blade had been taken to each. "I'm tired, you know? Of not being enough, of being here at all. I kind of want to disappear, but Mahiru asked one thing of me: If I ever had those thoughts, I was supposed to meet you here and at least give you my blood. Is that how this works, this whole vampire thing?" He flashed his wrists, blood dripping down his arms. "Do you take from people who would like to die?"

"No," hissed Kuro, snatching one of the young man's arms into his hold and identifying how deep the wounds were. "You're not going to die. Too shallow, too weak. You don't want to die. You just want to be seen." Placing the wrist to his lips, he demanded, "Give me a name. You're going to make a contract with me."

Confused, but willing to do as asked, Koyuki said, "Can I call you King, then? You can be the forever and always King of the Cats."

"Good enough," Kuro told him, biting down and making the blood run faster. "You will live if it's the last thing I do." It was his turn to take care of someone else. 

As he jumped down from the fort with an unconscious new Eve in his arms, he noticed Sakuya had called for an ambulance without being prompted. "Where were you?"

"Setting my affairs in order, looks like I'm not done being your chaperone after all. Whatever Mahiru may think of me, I don't give up that easily," promised Sakuya. "This guy is my friend, too. We're going to do this, together."

They both gave a snort and looked away from each other. It sounded too much like something Mahiru might say.

[wonderfulchaos69-blog]

Title: To Sleep in Your Arms Fandom: Servamp Characters: Mahiru, Kuro Summary: Kuro, unable to sleep, just wants Mahiru to go to bed with him. He doesn't see what the big deal is, it's just time to sleep. Right? KuroMahi-ish. Notes: Something fluffy and silly tonight since I broke too many hearts yesterday.

Mahiru had barely walked through the door when a blur of black tackled him to the ground. The groceries in his arms went splat, spilling outside the door. In dismay, he turned his accusing gaze to the culprit, waving one of his fingers to make an exaggerated point that, "You have to be more careful, Kuro! What did I tell you about using your lion form inside the house?"

The large cat nuzzled under his chin, apparently trying to earn back the love that it had just lost in the span of five seconds. "That's not going to work, Mister! Cut it out!" His giggle as he pushed back against the lion gave him away, the anger feigned. "Still, it's good that you're learning how to control the size. My windows can't take another accident ..." Trailing off with a sigh, Mahiru started to collect what he could of the groceries from underneath the black mass of fur. "Care to move?"

The lion licked his face in reply and he had to stop for a moment to wipe it off, scrunching up his nose. "Ew, don't do that again. What's gotten into you?"

His neighbors began to peek out of their windows to see what the commotion was and he hurried to push Kuro back into the apartment, laughing nervously as he waved to them. That didn't mean Kuro was going anywhere very fast, though, not moving an inch from where he had curled up in Mahiru's lap. With his legs pinned, he clucked his tongue and tried to push him back off. "Oi, what's the wise idea? Get off of me."

"Too much work," moaned the lion in a sleepy voice, "I haven't slept since you've been gone. Just ... let ... me ... rest."

"I thought you didn't like the sun!" Mahiru insisted, flicking one of the lion's ears. "How are you going to sleep with it coming in through the door?"

The lion lifted his head, considering. "Fine. Let's go to bed together, Mahiru."

"Oi," Mahiru said, heat rising to his cheeks, "don't say it so easily. Like we're ... we're ..."

"Sleeping together. Huh," the lion asked, confused, "haven't we been doing that from the start?"

Smushing the lion's face, he forced the big cat off of him, shouting without a care, "Go sleep on your own, you weird cat!"

He took the groceries and started putting them away, unprepared for someone looping their arms around his waist and a very human someone nuzzling into the side of his neck, whining, "What did I say?"

"You made it sound weird," muttered Mahiru, steadily putting things away. "It's not that weird. You're just ... a really good friend."

"A friend," Kuro mused. "Huh, I thought I was," and teeth replaced the nose that had been gliding up his neck, lightly scraping at his skin, "I thought I was your Servamp." A whisper across his skin that promised many more days spent in contract to one another. Mahiru shivered and huddled down, not giving in that easily. "Oh, come on. I like you. You like me. What's the big deal?"

Mahiru elbowed him back in the stomach, the tips of his ears now turning red. "You're a vampire, you just don't get it!"

"Ugh, humans ... can't deal."

Later, they would talk about it more and it would stop being weird, but until then they were content with their little moments of weirdness.

[wonderfulchaos69-blog]

tales of long ago

Title: The Liar That Couldn't Lie Fandom: Servamp Characters: Everyone?? Most of the focus is on Sakuya and Mahiru, though. Summary: Little Mermaid AU. After saving a prince on a stormy night, Sakuya devotes everything to that person’s happiness. SakuMahi. ???Mahi. Notes: The AU that no one asked for and that everyone is getting anyway. I spent a reaaaaally long time working on this. It's absurd ;; I was going for a 'long ago' kind of style of writing, so I'm kind of iffy how it turned out. But that could just me getting tired of staring at this sjlfjl It's been something I've worked on all week and I'm only now posting it up. I've been fiddling with it a lot, debating the ending, but I decided to leave it as is and just roll with it. I need to work on other things, anyway ;; As it is, the On Ice au might have to wait for an update until next Sunday. Scheduling, what are you.

Ah, also tagging @crows-with-keys~! I finished =D

The ocean is vast. So vast that sailors spend eons on its waves and still have not reached the ends of it. Within its deepest depths, where the water is colored a brilliant blue, no one has ventured further still. For those fathomless depths rise higher than even the churches of old that reside on the soil. You could pile up those churches, one after another, and still their steeples would not breach the surface.

Beneath that vastness, however, dwells the Palace of the Sea, where live seven siblings in their father's stead. This is not their story, but the story of a troubled youth who longed to see the shores above. For not every person in the sea is as content as any other; just as not every person upon the land is happy with their lot in life.

Upon the ocean floor, where you might expect sand and bleak darkness, there are cities that light the way. Unlike their counterparts from above, these cities are full of wild plant life, the likes of which you have never seen before. Plants that drift in the current and rustle as if truly alive, reaching out their leaves and stems as if they were hands.

In one such city, where roam the strangest sort of fish, there is a house unlike any other. On the outside, it looks the same as the rest. A muddied roof and scales of brightest neon, with windows that are never closed. Nevertheless, in the garden of this house grow the prettiest pink flowers, raised with such tender loving care by the oldest child that many envy her for it. Even her own parents.

As lovely as the outside, nothing but beauty on the petals of that tree, the inside of that household is something few speak of and even fewer admit to knowing anything about. Not their business, they say, and move along to things that do concern them instead. But to the children that live there, they do not have that choice. They live with the truest monsters of the deep, and that is why the youngest began to long for a life above the tide. Away from the house of two faces.

Surely, he is convinced, there live a much kinder folk there among those that walk on two stubs. He wishes he were older, to see such a sight with his own eyes, but he must wait until his fifteenth birthday. For no one younger than that may crest the waves and be seen by the odd creatures above. Permission must come from the Palace, and for that one must earn it. For they must earn their right to explore worlds not their own.

His sister has been there once and regales him with those tales from time to time. She does not speak of how she earned the right, but her brother is determined to find out. He begins asking questions, wanting to know the answer, and discovers that a sea witch may have been the one that helped her out. Something he doesn't wish to believe, but by the hardening of her smile when he asks, he can do nothing but accept it as truth. He asks instead what price she had to pay, to bring him stories from lands they could not otherwise reach.

She kisses his brow and tells him not to worry, her hands warm on his cheeks. 

Days later, she passes away. Perhaps that is the answer, perhaps it is not, but she leaves him just like that. With not a sorry or a goodbye, but with a promise that he will no longer be hurt.

Such a lie, he finds, as he nurses a swollen cheek for speaking out of turn. For mentioning the tree whose's petals have begun to fall, weeping for the loss of their caretaker. He slowly collects the flowers and waits, braiding them into his hair, hair as green as the sea on a stormy night. It's little comfort, but it reminds him of her. A reminder to keep going when days are too hard to bear and the nights seem endless.

There is one thing that he has discovered he is good at, though. Something he has learned from his sister, and that is lying. He makes up stories for the children to hear, talks circles about beings with no tails, and scares children with idle falsities, insisting they had to be careful lest they get caught in a fishing net. As if a human's net could ever reach this deep.

These lies eventually draw the curiosity of the Palace and he is brought before the princes. They ask him why he speaks of things he does not know, and he gasps and tells them, "Oh, but I do!" Despite not being of an age that has seen the lands above, he talks of what his sister has told him. Proof enough that there reside truth amidst his lies. The true lie being that he has never seen a human and knows not what they look like, but this is soon fixed as the princes invite him to stay at the Palace.

The garden within is unlike any he has ever seen before. A mixture of colors, for each prince holds a plot of space to call their own. For the youngest, with his crown of gold hair, there are white flowers that open up toward the sun. A sun which glows purple through the blues of the water. Beside the joyful white is an explosion of orange and red, creeping upwards and fighting on. Next to those are green flowers with four petals each. Followed by the flowers that he likes the most, a pink blossom that is nothing like his sister's. Yet there is the same tenderness to it, and he gazes upon it with a softer look than the others.

Onwards, there is a violet flower with its yellow nectar. Then a two-toned flower of white and red, as if it couldn't make up its mind what it wanted to be but still stands proud even then. Lastly, off to the side on its lonesome, is a flower that has clustered together in tall blue stalks. Each flower a representation of the one who planted it in some way. He would come to understand that over time.

In the middle of the garden, there is something out of place. A statue of marble stands there, a depiction of a human child with his hands laced behind his back, leaning forward with a beaming smile in place. Sweet and innocent, but washed out and eroded from its time beneath the sea.

He swims to the side of the statue, and then around it, admiring what he has always longed to see. It's not the real thing, but it is close enough for now. Until he is of an age where he can see an actual human, this is where he could be found. Amongst the splashes of color, and cherishing that which has none.

As time went on, the princes one by one began to reach that age before him. The oldest complains about how loud it was there when he returns. He says the ships up there creak and groan, and the sailors aboard them are worse. His brother after him boasts about helping a school of children splashing out in the water, where they certainly didn't belong. Later, they find out there was a lot of screeching involved and that children of land could swim if they tried. This brother went ahead and did some extensive research to ensure he wasn’t missing the facts on the matter, a wounded pride to blame.

The next one to rise to the surface is the quiet prince that didn't really want to go. He hides behind a veil of long black hair and a drape of white flowers that the youngest gives to him, attempting to disappear within their folds rather than have anyone notice him. His words are clipped when he comes back, short and to the point, insisting, "I like it better here." Something, from the looks of it, spooked him from ever venturing another trip.

Afterwards, when another year has passed, the princess sets off to explore - the only princess of the Palace. But no one is too worried. She has been known to take better care than any of the others, who sometimes seem unaware of their status. On her return, she goes on and on about the farms she saw up there, strange four-legged creatures tilling fields of sand. She explains how the plants that grow from this sand are edible, unlike their own, and that humans apparently eat more than just meat, as first assumed.

Another year, another adventure to recite. This one, the fifth oldest, is the oddest of the lot and prickly to an extent. He admits that he has seen the top-side world before and met the love of his life upon its soil. He doesn't have a name for her, but he does say that he will marry her, over and over, as dreams are wont to do. No one bursts his dream, for fear that like a bubble it will burst and he will plummet in to a canyon of despair. It is obvious, however, that he spends his time above the waves searching for her. For he is weary and heartbroken when he returns, listless and grumpy when spoken to, and speaking with even odder words than he did before.

Once more, a year passes and another child sets off to the world above them. He comes back with nothing but good things to say, waxing sonnets about the food he encountered along the way. For his older brother's vocabulary has rubbed off on him, and now they have two of them going on and on with words that make no sense.

Then it is the youngest prince's turn and he is decorated in lovely pearls from his doting older siblings. A sign of royalty and a sign of care, to ensure a safe journey above the waves. His return heralds the conclusion that, while humans are interesting and beautifully imperfect, it is best to leave them to their own devices. As a consensus, they agree that staying where they belong is much more acceptable. To see their baby brother in tears for a human's sake, that is where they begin to draw the line.

Persistent to a fault, their guest at the Palace insists, "I want to go up there!" It won't be too much longer before he can see the world above, they can't ban him from going; but the looks they turn to him all seem to say, It's for your own good. He's heard those words before. They don't warm his heart or put him at ease. On the contrary, it feels like ice water running through his veins.

"Sakuya," the oldest drawls in that lazy manner of speech that seems to define him, "you don't need to go up there."

It's as if a sinking rock has lodged inside him and keeps falling endlessly from within the pit of his stomach. He has been here for so many years, entertained for so many, even when it felt like he would get nothing in return, and all he has asked for in that time since is this one thing. The one thing they are refusing him. He pleads until they give in and grudgingly allow him his chance to see the lands atop the sea.

On the day of his fifteenth birthday, Sakuya finds the water summery and tranquil in its temperament. It is the time of year that warmth begins to return and things start to change. He takes in the sun, a fiery glow of orange from above the sea, that is setting on the horizon. He observes everything around him. From the slow, gentle roll of the waves to the boat he can see in the distance that glides like a fish. It bobs and lists to the side sometimes, but it floats upright and strangely serene.

Curious, Sakuya approaches the vessel for a closer look. Through the windows of the cabin, as the waves rise higher him every now and again, he can make out the forms of many people. Well-dressed people that go about their business as usual, at ease on their two legs where a tail should have been. He is fascinated as he watches, for he has never seen anything quite like them. Not as they live and breathe, color in their cheeks and lively with their gestures. So unlike the statue he had come to love, but there is one among them that resembles that statue and it sparks his interest even more.

A young man with the same grin, the same happy curve to his eyes as he waves a hand to illustrate a point he's trying to make to the shorter, purpler man at his side. They appear to be the same age, but the argument esclates into a crescendo of, "You bastard, shut up and take your present!" A gift is shoved into the young man's arms and he looks embarrassed as he undoes the bow atop it, thanking the other for taking the time to get him something.

It sends a pang through Sakuya's heart at the sight and he clutches at his chest in askance. For what did it matter if some human gave another human a gift? It is an obvious party that is taking place and he knows that; it should be expected for presents to be there, too. It doesn't change the fact that he is still hurt, because he wants to be able to give something to that human as well. To some day be of importance to someone that seems kind - and not only that, but someone who is kind, not just seemingly so.

The young man clasps his friend on the shoulder, gives it a shake, and tells him straightforwardly, "I'll cherish it forever." His friend goes into a fluster and brushes off the hand like it doesn't matter. The flaming reds of his face reach up to his ears, despite how he acts. To which Sakuya can understand, because there is something genuine about that person's words and that must mean the world to that person's friends.

Ah, I want to be your friend, too, he thinks, yearning for more as he stares upon the window a moment longer.

The young man leaves the cabin and joins the rest of the crew that have been dancing about the deck, and as he does, a whole group of rockets is launched into the air. The sky, by now a shadow of itself, lit back up with an array of color. A startlngly sight that has Sakuya diving under the water before he can reprimand his own silliness. He breaches the water again, seconds later, to see what looks like the stars falling around him. As if they no longer wish to remain in heaven and instead long as much as he does to touch upon the land and sea.

He's heard talk of these before, something they call fireworks upon the land, but this is his first time seeing it like everything else. Tiny suns that he can reach out and touch. They burn his hand when they meet his skin, a fleeting pain that he can barely feel; but the dots of red that pepper his skin are a testament to the reality of it. A reality he couldn't believe as truth until that moment.

When he looks back up, he can make out the ship in its entirety. From the tallest person to the lonesome bit of rope discarded in a corner. And the young man that bewitches, unlike any other, is more handsome for the way he shakes every hand and thanks every person, his voice clear and distinct over the music that still resounds over the deck.

It grows late with every minute longer he stays; yet Sakuya cannot bring his eyes to leave the sight of the party that continues on. The lanterns aboard the ship have been extinguished, no more rockets rise into the air, and the cannon has ceased its firing; but the winds began to stir and the sea becomes a restless omen of things to come, grumbling and moaning as the waves stretch and crash down.

The sails have a breath of air fill them out and the ship moves onward, moving away from him as the waves rise higher still. The ship dips between them, noble as a swan, and comes back out the other side unharmed. The clouds overhead darken in promise and water from the sky falls over and over again, while lightning flashes across the darkness.

To Sakuya, something fun is going on. Not so for those aboard the ship who yell and shout profanities, encouraging one another in their pursuit to batten down the hatches. The ship beneath them shakes and groans, the planks giving way under the pressure of the sea, stripped away from their sides before they can be stopped. The mainmast snaps in two and plunges into the water, torn asunder like the rest of their damaged ship. Back and forth they weave until finally the ship lists too much to the right and on its side it must lay, becoming one with the sea.

Now that he understands the danger this poses, remembering that not all humans can swim, he hurries to the side of the ship. A flash in the sky pierces through the black night and he takes in the pale faces of most of the sailors. Most, because a notable one is missing. The beautiful youth with the blinding smile, no where to be seen within the raging waters or clinging to debris for dear life.

The planks part in the drifting waves and he sees him then, sinking further and further down, one of his hands outstretched upwards in a silent plea. At first, Sakuya admits to being a little happy about this outcome. For the further this person sinks, the closer they will be to one another; but he belatedly realizes that by the time the young man reaches the Palace of the Sea, he will be nothing but a corpse. This person, more than anyone else, must not die.

He swims between the beams and planks, pushing aside rubbish as he hastens to the young man's side. He is heedless of the danger to his arms and exposed chest, not caring about the nicks and scratches that accumulated the further he goes. Once he reaches where he saw the youth disappear, he dives deeply into the pitch black water. The rage of the sea works against him, battling him as he extends out his arm and finally, at last, clasps the young man's hand in his own and pulls. He wraps his arms around him when the current buoys him up to his side, brown hair fluttering ethereal around a scrunched up face, eyes tightly shut to block out the stinging salt of the sea.

They rise to the surface together, the youth weak from fighting alone for so long. For surely he would have died had not Sakuya come to his aid. He holds his head above the water, keeping them both aloft as the storm plays out around them. The waves drift them where they will, and in the morning, the storm has ceased. Of the ship, however, not a single fragment can be seen.

The sun shines bright and bathes the sea in cozy shades of pink and red, lulling the youth he holds in his arms back to a more welcoming color of health. For the paleness struck a cord in him, an imprint of a statue frozen and weathered and never to breathe beneath the sea. He kisses the forehead of the young man, his fingers sweeping back the damp hair, and wishes for this person to live as he kisses the salt out of his eyes.

Soon, before he knows it, the sight of land is blessing them with a shoreline to rest upon. Mountains of cloudy blue are far from where they lay, but they can still be seen if he looks hard enough, if he drags his gaze from the human for a moment to see them. Not too far away are the blooms of a familiar tree, the scent alone what makes him look up with a gasp, small pink petals fluttering in the wind. Nearby the grove of trees is a tall building, painted windows accented by the glow of the sun. It looks like a cathedral, the likes of which he has seen underwater before as well. It gives him hope that someone there can help tend to the human he wants to live more than any other.

Beside this human, his human, he rests for a moment more, soaking up the warmth of the sand and the water that lopes at his tail. He wants to stay here, but he knows that cannot become his reality, his truth, and he takes to the sea where he belongs. Instead, he hides behind a rock and ensures that someone will help where he cannot.

It does not take long for that someone to arrive, a young man in tidy black robes that match his hair the shade of a raven's wings. The shockingly white strand of it even matches the collar that he tugs up against the wind that has been stirring the trees. A man of faith, from his clothes to the angel wing pendant over his left breast.

The man spots the human that Sakuya is forced to leave upon the sand, but he does not express anything on his face aside from mild disdain as he bends down on one knee to check the pulse of the other human. Something soft enters the man's eyes as he encourages the other man to sit up, saying something that Sakuya does not hear from this far away. Words that rouse the young man back to life. His eyes read puzzlement for many things, but he looks up at the person in front of him with such relief that is painful to watch and not say anything at all.

Regretfully, he dives back into the water and returns to the Palace where the siblings that live there await his stories. He does not forget his time above, but he also sees what the others meant when they said they preferred it down here. Beneath the sea, there is little to worry about and little to bring harm to their hearts. Still, he knows this is not the truth and he longs even more for the world above him. Now more than ever, because he was able to touch a single life in a single day and that meant everything to him.

At length, he could bear it no longer and spun a tale that wasn't quite a lie and wasn't quite the truth either. The Palace siblings listen as they often do, but it is just the one that helps, the youngest, his compassion showing through as he asks after anyone that might know where to find the human he left behind. For he has revisited, many times, the place where he laid the human to rest in the sun, and each time he comes back empty-handed and hopes crushed. Not unlike a certain prince that had made the mistake of falling in love with a human.

In a surprising turn of events, this human is a well-known one amidst the sea and many have seen and heard of his exploits. A young prince, they say, that sails days at a time to spread peace for his kingdom with talks of good faith. The important part is that he now has a place to find the human, and a name to accompany that human in his mind: Mahiru.

He wastes no time and heads to the spot where the prince's castle is said to overlook the waters below. It's walls are made of golden bricks that sparkle in the sunlight, with marble steps that build up the long flights of stairs, one stairwell even leading all the way to the sea. The roof, as splendid as the walls, glitters in its accumulated glory; and the yard, too, is decorated in more statutes than Sakuya can count from where he swims.

Through the crystal clear windows of the land dwellers, he can see the rooms meant for guests, done by in fine silk curtains and tapestries that spoke of ages long ago; while the walls dress in paintings that are just as breathtaking as everything else. 

In the most open, spacious room there is a fountain that bubbles and rustles, jetting its water up toward the glass ceiling before it cascades down like a waterfall. And around the base of the fountain grow such pretty plants that Sakuya wishes he knew their names, thriving as they were in the presence of both water and sunlight.

Now that he knows where to find his missing human, he spends many days and night simply watching from afar. Slowly, he would work up the courage to swim closer and closer with each visit. There arrives such a day that he swims to the narrow channel under the balcony of the prince's room; and there he would sit for hours and gaze upon the prince who thinks he is alone at the time. He watches in delight how the moonlight bathes him in an otherworldly glow, both an unreachable figure and something temptingly close.

Many evening in-between he spends trailing behind him as Mahiru rows out in a little boat upon a calm sea, pleasant music drifting over the sound of the oars striking the water. He peeps from among the green rushes, wary of being caught, but there is only one time that the prince even looks his way, confusion painted on his face, and that is when Sakuya sighs and lies aloud. The prince shrugs it off quickly, mistaking it for frogs making a racket from where they are hidden in rushes, and that is that. But he almost wishes the prince had heard his lie of, "There is nothing that could stop me from being by your side."

As time goes on, he grows more and more fond of humans and the good that they can accomplish. For every bad, there is an even greater good. He becomes more and more convinced that his place was among them and that he should be one of those that walk with two legs. His want to be like them consumes his thoughts and drives him to seek a way to do so.

With questions upon questions in mind, he goes to the oldest prince of the sea for answers, wondering, "If a human is not drowned, can they live forever? Do they not die upon their land, as we do not upon the sea?"

The prince raises his head from where it rests upon a tower of pillows, dimissing, "Yes, they do die. Just as we must. Their life is even shorter than our own. We can live for nearly three hundreed years, while they can last no more than 100, if that. When we cease to exist, do you know what we become?"

Shaking his head, Sakuya leans forward to hear more of this matter that he was never taught, insisting, "Do we not become reborn as something else?"

"No," letting his head fall back into his pillows, the prince explains, "we become nothing more than sea foam and drift on the waves. Unlike humans, we do not have graves. We have no markers to mourn or a place for our grief. For we cannot cry. You see, we do not have immortal souls. We will never live again." 

Without warning, the prince reaches out and toys with the green hair that Sakuya has always loved, always preening over  it with the utmost care. For his sister had loved his hair. Continuing on, the prince compares, "To be cut and forsaken, struck down in death, our souls will not come back. Not like hair, but more as a plant that has been snipped at its roots.

"Humans, though, they're something else." Wistfully, he adds on, "They have souls that live forever. A soul that lives even outside of the body. For when they turn to ash, their souls ascend; and as we rise from the water to see what the world above ours is like, so do they go in search of the realm that exists above their own."

"Why do we not possess such an immortal soul?" asks Sakuya. "Why are we different? I would gladly," he tells him with a hitch to his voice, "give up all the years I have left to spend a single day as human. To know the joys of reaching for the stars above like them!"

"To think like that," the prince mutters, "I can't deal with you. You'd be much happier here. Forget about those humans and live out your years of peace here."

Scoffing, Sakuya bemoans, "So that's it then? I shall die and become nothing but foam in the sea. Like everyone else, no difference, nothing. The same as those who I refuse to call parents? I will not, I cannot! Tell me, isn't there a way to gain an immortal soul?"

Rolling his eyes to the ceiling and heaving a put-upon sigh, the sea prince tells him, "No, not unless a human were to love you more than they love themselves. Someone who would love you more than their own mother and father. All their thoughts, all their love, it must be directed toward you and no one else. To find someone so self-sacrificing in their love, do you really believe there is a human that could do that?"

There is one, he thinks, that could do that. Someone he is willing to believe could be his everything, and with time, he might be lucky enough for those feelings to be reciprocated.

Not done yet, the prince assures him, "If you were to find someone that could love you that completely, then half their soul would then be yours. But what hope do you have of that? Have you forgotten the tail that follows you?"

It is impossible to forget such a thing, but Sakuya smiles and tells him, "Maybe I did, or maybe I did not. What matters is that I now have my answer."

"You're a pain," concludes the prince, "let us have a ball instead. Maybe that will take your mind of these weird things you think."

Court held at the Palace is something that Sakuya has grown tired of throughout the years, but he accepts as to be expected of him. He is their jester, after all, and his lies are the most cherished thing about him. He uses a facade of smiles to enthrall his audience and entice them to join in the merriment of the stories he exaggerates for their ears. He speaks of things he does not know, of things he does, and of things he wants to know with every piece of his existence.

Fish dart about the place, twisting and twining through his hair and around him like belts and loops of jewelry, making him and others laugh. It's all for show, all of it, but he laughs with a hint of actual truth behind it because he has found a solution that no one else has to know about. A solution his sister, really, had provided him all along.

He goes to see the sea witch when court has been dismissed. The one who has been kicked out of the Palace. Someone who will have the real answers, the only answers he'll accept. The place he is headed is not without its difficulties, though. For it is a place of whirlpools and entangling plants that reach out like claws that are itching to sink into the closest thing that wriggles; plants which find themselves painted red over and over, soaking it in until it stains them permanently.

When he reaches the gates of the witch's hut after a careful bout of swimming, he takes a nervous gulp and taps lightly at the entrance, which sets off a bubbly stream of laughter that dwindles into a sigh as the person tells him, "Come in."

The hut resembles much of the outside graveyard. Parts of shipwrecks litter the place, bones of sailors are propped up like decorative accessories for the room, and there is a smoking cauldron in the middle of it all. The eye of this disastrous whirlpool, where floats a man with black glasses to cover up what would be seen behind them. And around the witch swim eels of varying colors, some looping about his arms and chest, caressingly happy with their master as he cooes at them.

The witch speaks in a deprecating monotone when he does finally speak, "I know what it is you want." Laughing for a moment, he has to take a deep breathe before he persists, "It is very stupid of you. I suppose siblings are so similar, are they not?"

Sakuya reigns in a snarl, because he does not want to ruin the chances of his wish becoming a truth, not when he is so close to it. "Get on with it," he says instead, tone frosty and a little bit challenging.

"Oh dear," sing-songs the witch. "Is that any way to ask for something you want?" Tossing his hands out and shooing the eels aside, the witch goes on with, "But you shall have your way, child, and you will work hard for your prince. Of course, it will bring you sorrow. For you wish to be rid of your fish tail, is that right?" At Sakuya's hesitant nod, the witch grins and moves to begin collecting things from the cabinets and from about the room, tossing them into the cauldron. "You wish to have two stubs, like those humans you so admire. You want for your love to be returned, just as you want for an immortal soul. How very greedy!"

And then the witch laughs, in the most obnoxious way that even the eels hide from the disturbance, only peeking out when it trails off into an inevitable sigh. "What a pity, what a pity. The draughts I make come at a great cost. I will prepare one for you, but you must reach land by sunrise tomorrow. That is not all, I am afraid. For you see, when your tail recedes, you will be in agony for life. It will be as if a great sword as struck your tail in two and that will not go away, no matter how much you wish it so. But do not fear, for those that see you will become enchanted by you. Your graceful steps will seem to them as if you have descended from the clouds, even as your feet bleed for every footprint you must leave behind."

With a malicious smile, the witch asks him, "If you will bear all of this, I will gladly help you."

"Yes, I will," Sakuya is not swayed in what he wants, for he has already known his fair share of pain. It is a pittance when he thinks of what he will gain: the love of someone otherwise out of his reach and the promise of an immortal soul.

"But consider," the witch says, a flippant sarcasm about him, "once you are human, you can no longer be what you are - is that truly what you desire?" He doesn't wait for Sakuya's answer, babbling on with, "Oh me, oh my, you'll never see my traitorous siblings again! Never again will you show your face upon these depths. And let me remind you, the day your prince gives his heart to another, that is also the day your heart will break in two. If that were to happen, what do you think becomes of you?"

Turning his head to the side, Sakuya whispers a pointed, "It won't happen."

"Why, you become foam on the waves, just like those people you hate so such!"

It takes all his patience not to throw the nearest object at the witch. "I will do it," repeats Sakuya. "Let's get to it already."

"Ah, but I must also be paid," muses the witch, "I did mention that, did I not? It is not a trifle that I ask for either, it must be something you dearly could not live without. I ask you, what does a liar value most? Do you know, child? For you, who seeks to beguile and charm your prince with words riddled with them, I will be taking that as payment. My own blood must be given for this to work, to be as sharp as a two-edged sword. That does not come cheap."

"But if you take that from me," Sakuya's voice finally trembles, "what is left of me?"

"That's for you to figure out," teases the witch, reaching for a dagger. "Now say 'ahhhh.' Unless you have lost your courage perhaps?"

Dutifully, Sakuya opens his mouth and gives the price that is asked him. With a liar's tongue and a drop of black blood from the sea witch, the draught is near done, boiling into a clear white as the fire crackling beneath scolds it into behaving. The weeping sounds that permeate the air cease and the witch takes the caludron off the fire, bottling up what remains within it. "There you have it," says the witch, "best be off. You only have until sunrise, after all, or the potion becomes lame."

Without returning to say goodbye to anyone else, he rises straight to the surface where the moon glitters overhead, full and bright to guide the way. He swims to the marble steps of the castle that his prince lives in and sits upon them as he drinks the draught he has been given. It is the most excruciating thing, to have one's whole existence cleaved in two, and he collapses from the shock of it rather than being unprepared.

When rises the sun and it touches his skin, he awakens and opens his eyes, becoming aware of the dull pain that lingers in his tail struck in two. This pain is eased as he stares upwards and right into the eyes of a baffled prince he has been longing to meet for months. He parts his lips, preparing an introduction that would make anyone swoon, but no sound leaves him and he belatedly remembers what he gave up, his hand going to his throat in despair.

"Excuse me, are you all right?" The prince crouches beside him, offering up a blanket he brought with him, admitting, "I saw you from my balcony. You must be cold. Do you not have clothes?"

He colors at the realization that without his tail he feels quite naked. Still, it is wrong of him not to answer, so he shakes his head, looking up pleading at the prince for some assistance. To which he earns a laugh and a pat on the head, the prince helping him stand and bringing him into the castle's walls with little else asked. Each step to get there, though, is bloody. It is as if he is truly walking over a pit of knives; but the contact of the prince's hands on him and the thrill of it being there at all is a soothing balm that washes away what he otherwise finds unbearable.

Before he knows it, he is adorned in silks of white and pink. Smooth and familiar, like a tail that is now long gone. And there are servants arranging a crown of flowers upon his head where before he had no need of them if they were not his sister's. He lets them, for his prince is smiling so much at the sight that he can't take that slight happiness, no matter how insignificant, from him.

The servants also provide food, where he sits and dines with the prince in such a way that he has only ever entertained in his wildest daydreams. This is when the curious prince renews his questions, though, asking where he came from, if he's really all right, and if he can speak. It's too much, too fast, and Sakuya stays silent because he has no other choice. Ah, he thinks restlessly, if only he could know what I have given up for him.

"No matter," Mahiru assures him, "please take this time to rest and stay as long as you need. This places is larger and more lonely than you can imagine."

Given a room close by, he is never far from the prince. Even a page's outfit is made for him, so that they may ride out on horses together. Time passes them, bit by bit, as they grow to know and care for each other. Because despite the voice that would not leave him, Mahiru's patience and dedication to being his friend persists; and Sakuya holds onto the hope that his love may one day be returned.

Their travels together become something of envy for the other servants, the ones that did not approve of them. A noble and a peasant, they would sneer, what a dastardly sight. It is a good thing that Mahiru is a kind person or those people would have been in for a nasty surprise. It is Mahiru, after all, that holds him back when he wishes for nothing more than to lash out and hurt others the way he continues to hurt.

Some nights, when he is unable to sleep from the pain, he sits at the bottom of the marble steps that lead to the sea and imagines he can see the Palace from there. He pretends that he is missed, and that if he looks hard enough he will see the siblings rise from the water, because they are worried and have come to check up on him. He doesn't see them, though, not really. It is strange that he can't even lie in his own thoughts these days.

As the months begin to pass, Sakuya finds he has fallen harder than before for the prince he saved that day. It is with a certain fondness that he follows his prince and helps him whenever needed. However, the way he is cared for in return reminds him too much of how one treats a child and he is at a lost for how to correct this mistaken impression that he needs to be coddled. A partner is what he wants to be, someone Mahiru can depend on always.

Do you not love me as I love you? is what he begs with his eyes, regardless of the futility of it.

"You are dear to me," says the prince, "for your heart is good and you are the most devoted to me and these lands. You remind me of someone I met a long time ago now, a man who saved my life. My ship was sinking and yet I somehow managed to wash up ashore. Alive. There was a church nearby and one of the newest clerics saw me on the bank and rushed to save my life. I saw him but a few times during my stay, and he is perhaps the only one in this world I could love. But," and here Sakuya grows more disheartened, because what more could there be to make his pain worse, "but you are like him, and you have almost driven him from my mind. He has his place, his heart taken by his faith, and yet good fortune has allowed us to meet. May we never part, may we always be together."

It is better than nothing at all and Sakuya reaches for his prince's hand that is willingly given, squeezing it tight in his hold. Mahiru doesn't know, he is reminded, that it was him that saved his life that night. That can be put aside, regardless, for he has his prince and there is no one who will take him from him.

Before long, the prince's uncle decrees that his nephew must marry. A neighboring kingdom that has been at odds with them for years says they are willing to cease the fight, but a marriage must take pace. The usual power struggles coming into play, and it makes Sakuya's blood boil in anger. To dare to use Mahiru in that way is enough to set him out on a warpath, but again it is Mahiru that takes him aside and assures him that everything is going to be all right. He is only to meet the person he is to marry, first and foremost, and the voyage will part them for nothing but a short while.

This is something that Sakuya will not allow to go unchecked and refuses to let Mahiru go alone. In thankfulness for that devotion, Mahiru presses their foreheads together and tells him, "If I had to choose between this stranger and you, I would always and forever choose you. You, who have stood at my side. You, who cherish me more than I can imagine. You would come with me? You are not afraid of the sea?"

He would have laughed if he could, but Sakuya shakes his head instead and beams the most brilliant grin he can. He has no more fear of the sea than he is that he will lose Mahiru. Not after those words.

The journey to the other kingdom takes days, and he basks in the sunlight that he shares alongside Mahiru aboard the swaying ship. The feel of the waves beneath him once more a tiny whisper of welcome home. It has been too long since he has been out to sea this far, a blessing that he can finally share with Mahiru.

The morning of their arrival is met with trumpets and fanfare, a beautiful town urging them to take in all that they have to offer. Church bells ring in the distance. And along the high wall of the castle, there stand soldiers in full salute. Flags and bayonets of every color on display, it is as if they had stepped off the ship and into a carnival; everything a festival and people encouraging them to have fun.

Yet the person that is to wed Mahiru, there is no sight of them. The townspeople say that their royalty are a devout, loving couple, but the king also has the tendency to rule with a iron fist. Including, apparently, sending his eldest off to work at an early age. "Best get experience early, he says to the boy," one merchant tells them with a laugh. "That boy of his is a riot. Your prince will enjoy his company, if nothing else!"

It is with cold dread that he watches the events unfold. The man that would marry his prince is a very immaculate person. Not a scuff mark or any speck of dirt on his attire of royal blues and purples. A glistening silver upon his head that compliments the streak of white in his hair and highlights the darkness of the rest. It is like watching the moon step up to meet the sun as he takes Mahiru's hand in his and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

With a slowly breaking heart, he comes to realize that the next words from Mahiru will be nothing short of: "It's you! The one who saved my life! I have known no happiness greater than this. A chance to finally thank you in person."

Later, to Sakuya, he goes on to insist, "This is wonderful! Are you not happy for me, to know that I shall be wed to the one person I have loved more than any other? Your devotion is great and sincere, surely you must rejoice for the happiness I have found."

Kissing Mahiru upon the cheek, he smiles and nods his head. And if he could have cried there would have been rivers running down his face to match the one dividing his heart. After that wedding, on the morning after, he is faced with the fact that he will die. Another piece of foam to add to the rest out on the ocean waves, a piece that no one will ever remember.

He hear not the festive music that continues to play, or the ringing of the church bells that grows steadily louder with every step they take to the altar. He does not smell the burning of the oils or the fragrance of flowers as they fill the room. Even the words that the priest speaks to bind the two together fall on deaf ears, as hollow and empty as Sakuya feels.

The reception takes place on a ship, as close to the sea as Mahiru can get as he shows off his new love for all to see. Congratulations are passed around like hand shakes and it is like watching something come full circle as he envisions the end. As this is the last night, though, he puts on a show that will entertain Mahiru more than anyone else's. The last night he will breathe the same air as him, the last time he will see that face light up with delight at something he has done, the last time he will ever get to look into Mahiru's eyes and plead for him to understand what he wants to convey: I love you.

Eventually the newlyweds retire to their cabin, arm in arm, playing with each other's hair and talking lowly for only the other to hear. In turn, Sakuya takes a seat atop the side of the ship and gazes out at the sea that had always been his home. He is surprised to see familiar gazes looking back, a sorrowful collection of seven that have all cut their hair for a reason that eludes him. A reason that soon makes sense as the oldest among them says, "We struck a deal with the witch, for you." And he holds out a dagger, for which he instructs, "Pierce the prince's heart with this and you can return. Live out your three hundred years where you belong."

With the dagger in his hands, he approaches the cabin's door and it gives way with a twist of the knob. The two inside lay under the sheets, Mahiru with his head against the bare breast of his love, with his own chest exposed to the air. He draws back the blade and then slowly lowers it back to his side, letting it slip through his fingers as he realizes he cannot take the life of the person he cares most about. Instead, he bends down and presses a kiss to Mahiru's forehead in imitation of how they met, tucking stray strands of hair behind his ear as he mouths, "I wish I never had to leave you," with a voice that will never be heard.

He returns to the edge of the ship and dives in, becoming foam amongst sea where he will drift forevermore beneath the sunlight that has already risen.

[wonderfulchaos69-blog]

Shackles of the mind Kuromahi?? o:

Title: Meaning of Those WordsFandom: ServampCharacters: Kuro, Hugh, Mahiru, mentions of the CreatorSummary: Whispers of the past catch up with whispers of the present.Warnings: The Creator is 100% morally faulty. In no way ambigious. Just saying. Bad stuff is going on here.Notes: I have been putting this one off, thinking about how to write it. But finally I settled on going this direction. Old Child doesn’t deserve how I write him. He does not. That poor child. But anyway, there is only a dash of KuroMahi for ~reasons~. I’ll have to expand on this later, idk.

“I love you.” That phrase was so simple, so delicate. Not a confession, but a promise.

Kuro first heard those words spoken to him as a child, as he held out his arms to be picked up and cradled in the arms of someone who would protect him from the world. It hadn’t meant anything at the time, mere words that he heard over and over, spoken in the sweetest of voices. But as he grew older, he began to understand that he was loved, and that with that love came certain conditions.

For instance, he wasn’t allowed to go into the basement. He couldn’t stay out late, since his health was poor. And he wasn’t supposed to ask for help. He had to learn to grow up strong, he was told, and he had thought that was something he could accept.

It was hard sometimes. He often wanted to reach out and make friends, but then the person that cherished him more than anyone else would come to mind - and he didn’t want to disappoint them. So he started making excuses to avoid the other kids. He became the social outcast among the rest. The one that no one wanted to be around anyway.

Still, he was loved, and he had thought that would be enough. He had his most beloved person with him. There couldn’t be anything else in this world that mattered more than that person. Until he met someone in the basement and the foundation of his world was shaken.

There in the basement was a little boy with black hair and nasty bruises on his arm, his eyes dulled but a strange smile still on his face. “Hello, who are you?”

At the time, Kuro’s name had been a very different one and he had answered with that, a name he no longer remembered. Then he had explained that he lived here and wanted to know who the kid thought he was, why he was down here to begin with. In reply, the kid had laughed and told him, “I don’t have a name. I was unwanted, that’s why I am here.”

“Unwanted?” Kuro hadn’t known the meaning of the word, and he asked, “But that’s not the case anymore, right?”

The kid had shrugged, his threadbare shirt slipping off one shoulder. “Dunno. Don’t care either. Go away.”

As requested, he left. Though he kept coming back after that. Stealing away chances to spend with another human being while no one else was home. They talked about nothing in particular, but a sense of kinship had grown. He even started sneaking books down to teach the kid about things he didn’t know. Not because he really understood what was in those books, but because it made the kid happy and he lit up at the prospect of learning. Kuro couldn’t relate, but he did care about making someone happy and that was enough.

Eventually, he was caught going down there and he was punished for his audacity. A fitting punishment to suit the crime. He stopped visiting the boy and he was told to forget he existed. That was easier said than done, and he often worried for that boy, but he didn’t think he would ever see him again. There was a strange comfort in that thought, which scared him more than he cared to admit.

They did see each other again, many months later as Kuro lay on death’s door from an illness he had fought all his life. As Kuro became something that was no longer human in the hopes of being kept alive for many, many more years to come. The same day that small boy joined him in an everlasting life that neither of them had wanted.

It would be years before they left that place, before either of them could begin to undo the damage that had been done in that house. Before they could begin to realize that they had been loved, but that love had been in no way correct. It would be many more before they could move on from that.

Yet still, Kuro was not prepared for the words Mahiru whispered in his ear one night. The words spoken in confession rather than promise. “I love you,” Mahiru told him, holding him tight. He didn’t believe those words, but the difference this time was that he wanted to believe in them. And maybe for once that would be enough.

[wonderfulchaos69-blog]

Title: The Boy Who Cried Wolf Fandom: Servamp Characters: Sakuya, mentions of Sakuya’s sister and Tsubaki Summary: Sound the whistle of alarm. Tell them, tell them - and maybe one day they’ll listen. Warnings: Child abuse, canon character death, attempted murder. Notes: I have no excuse for this. None. Just wanted to write some Sakuya and this happened.

Sakuya is little when he firsts approaches the police for help. His sister is no condition to go out, bruises riddling her arms and legs, and he has two legs and a mouth. He figures if no one else will come to them, he will go to them and tell the truth. It brings forth questions, lots of questions, as the police begin to investigate the claims.

The neighbors, he breathes in relief, will surely tell the truth and his sister will be okay. They’ll both be okay.

His wishes shatter like a collison of cars, wrecked and irredeemable. No one tells the truth and he is called a liar for the first time. “It’s not good to lie, kid. We heard your sister fell down the stairs because she was late for school. Were you lonely, little guy? It’s all right. Your mom and dad might be busy, but they do care about you a lot.”

He waits until he is alone and then starts to laugh as tears fall out of his eyes. Right, a liar. He is lying. They can’t see the truth through the faulty stories devised by people who can’t be bothered, so of course he is a liar. A kid has no authority in a world of grown ups that want to play pretend. Fine then, he thinks, I won’t rely on adults.

Instead, he starts spinning tall tales. They get more and more outlandish as time passes, and then they grow more morbid when his sister falls to her death. He tells his teacher, with a smile, he saw a human grow wings and fly. To a better place. In concern, she calls home and asks if Sakuya would be better off taking a break from school. How stupid, he knows this to be, home isn’t a home without anyone there to make it one. There is no one he calls family in that place, not anymore.

Seasons change and nothing else does. He takes his sister's place and sometimes catches himself admiring the colors that splatter his arms, yellows and blues of demeaning appearance. He can still hear condescending words that eat at his mind and make him hate, as much as the image reflected back at him in the mirrors, but he doesn’t let them get the better of him and keeps on smiling. A mask of ridiculousness that matches the stories he crafts, lies that match what people think he is.

He isn’t surprised when his footsteps line up one day with his sister’s on a balcony. He doesn’t even cry out when he’s pushed from behind. There have been more questions lately, more suspicions, teachers starting to read through his stories to the underlying meaning of its roots. It sure took them long enough, he thinks as he plummets from on high. An Icarus that has no sun to seek.

His head is bleeding, his thoughts are fuzzy, but he hears the familiar click-clack of wooden sandals hitting the pavement and it’s a lullaby that he’s been waiting a long time to hear again. Someone who had once promised him a place to belong. Someone who he might be able to count on to keep his promises until the end. He doesn’t have the strength to lift his head, let alone speak, but he does catch sight of an offered wrist, bleeding freely, conjoling words saying drink and become a part of my family. A family that would probably be as much as a sham as any other, and yet Sakuya drinks from the chalice of promise just this once.

He’s too tired to care either way. Whether there is hope or not, that isn’t what makes him drink. Since holding out hope is too foolish, he would rather believe that people can’t be trusted. He’s being used, surely, in some way. That is something he can relate to, something familiar, and he doesn’t have to like it. It’s more or less an excuse, that’s what this is, something he finds necessary to keep living. Because one day he might find his sun, something that can’t be done if he’s dead.

Until then, he is going to keep living pointlessly. A story without end. For one day, as stories are wont to do, their tale will be put up on a shelf, forgotten, and there is no difference in death or living if that is the case. See, it doesn’t matter what he picks in the end. For the end is still the same.