Chapter Text
"Under the moonlight, cuckoo cried as if it coughed up blood.
The sad voice kept me waking up,
the cry reminded me of my old home town far away."
— Masaoka Shiki
A familiar hand, roughened by years of work, brushed over the silky surface of a golden fabric. A warm, jovial voice accompanied the hand. "This brocade is wonderful! I knew I could count on my boy to bring only the best."
Taki smiled. He missed hearing his father's words of praise.
"The lord will love this." He turned to the man at his side and gave his shoulder a hearty pat. "We'll make a fortune, you hear me, my friend?"
Taki shot the man a cold look, but he couldn't quite make out his expression as the beautiful brocade slowly caught fire and raised enough smoke to sting Taki's eyes. Panicked, he tried to call out to his father, but a pungent, metallic taste flooded his throat. The smoke thickened, separating him from the two men.
Taki extended his hand, but from the smoke, the same familiar hand emerged, grasping his and placing a single object in his palm. It was a small vial filled with liquid—crimson, viscous, and foreboding. The pungent taste flooded his throat again.
Taki hated this dream.
Luckily for him, he felt a cool, gentle nudge against his cheek, stirring him awake. It took him a moment to take in his surroundings: he was still at his desk, his pet iguana tilted its head, watching him curiously, and there was unfinished paperwork under its small feet. Taki scratched Hizz's chin and took out his pocket watch. It was only 11 p.m. The strain of managing all the preparations for the pre-opening event must have been catching up with him now that it was finally over. He sighed and returned to his papers, but his eyes involuntarily darted to the note neatly placed on one corner of the desk.
The unpleasant taste from his dream still lingered in his throat, but the sight of that note brought back the soothing sweetness of last night's bite. He preferred to avoid the taste of blood whenever possible, so he only fed himself when absolutely necessary. Whether the taste was good or bad held no significance to Taki. However, in all his years, he'd never had anything so good that it left him feeling lightheaded just thinking about it. His finger absentmindedly traced the name on the note and a faint smile formed on his lips.
"What a peculiar man," he mumbled to himself.
"Will you meet up with him?"
"Of course-" Taki paused, snapping out of his thoughts and looking up abruptly. "Why didn't you knock?" he asked with a steady voice—or so he hoped.
A pair of calm eyes met Taki's. Shiro-uneri simply smiled and placed a cup of what seemed to be green tea on the desk. "I did, but you were absorbed in your love letter and didn't hear."
"It's not a love letter," Taki deadpanned and made sure to throw a little glare at Tagitsuhime who was right behind Shiro-uneri. The girl lifted her eyebrows innocently, gesturing to herself with a deliberately clueless expression.
Shiro-uneri chuckled, so Taki picked up the cup, straightened himself to look more composed, and changed the subject. "Why aren't you two sleeping? You are the ones who have to work tomorrow morn...eugh," Taki added with grace. He took a second to rearrange his thoughts. "What did you put in this tea?"
Shiro-uneri took a seat on the sofa next to the desk. "It's not tea, it's spinach juice. You need strength and it's perfect for iron deficiency."
"We made a looot for you tonight since we weren't sure when Boss would be back. It was my idea, so make sure you drink it all up!" Tagitsuhime beamed at him.
Taki believed he had handled himself quite well over the past few days given the circumstances. He never would have guessed that he'd end up worrying them. He looked at the choke-inducing juice with mild amusement and thanked them, although one more sip was enough to convince him to quietly pass it to Hizz later.
Taki couldn’t help it, but every unpleasant taste that touched his tongue brought to mind just how much sweeter and comforting Seimei’s blood had been by comparison. His eyes darted back to the note.
"Sharkie, please bring me the guest list from last night. I want to check something."
"Sure thing!" she chimed and sprang out of Taki's office.
Not even a few minutes had passed and he could hear a commotion downstairs, accompanied by squeals. He needed to send her to sleep soon, or the neighbours might raise a fuss one of these days. Tagitsuhime's rapid footsteps pounded toward the door, while a pair of steadier, confident strides followed close behind. The familiar sound of clinking jewelry grew louder, and Taki could already sense an incoming headache.
"Taki! Shiro-uneri!" Tagitsuhime flung the door open with an excited grin. "Look who's here!"
Moving to the side, she made way for the elegant figure of a woman whose presence commanded every eye in the room to look at her. She wore a white blouse with a high, ruffled collar complemented by two striking pearl necklaces. A long, high-waisted black wrap skirt with detailed golden embroidery flowed from her waist. The wide sash tying the skirt accentuated her lithe figure, giving her the look of a freshly plucked wild rose. Yet, the mischief in her eyes and the playful curve of her golden lips warned of the barely concealed thorns. Naturally, she was the capricious owner of the antique shop herself.
"Glad to see you're all here!" she boldly declared. "I just got back from my business trip and ran into some guests from last night. They were very pleased with the experience and the antique displays. Wonderful work, everyone!" She took out a large box and handed it to Tagitsuhime. "Sharkie, these are chocolate bars from my trip to Yokohama. Consider them a reward for your work, but share them with Shiro-uneri and Taki!" Taking a bar from the box, she turned to the man sitting on the sofa and threw it to him with an effortless hand swing. "I heard that your piano performance last night was incredible. Great job, Shiro-uneri!"
He slightly bowed his head with a low chuckle. "Thank you, Boss."
At last, she turned to Taki and her grin widened. "And you! You did a flawless job handling everything on your own in such a short time. The guests had nothing but praise for our manager. I told you Kyoto would welcome you with open arms!"
Taki smiled, leaned forward, and propped his chin on his clasped hands. "Thank you, Miss Tamatori. Now if only someone hadn't left unannounced one day before the event and dumped the burden on me."
Tamatori scrunched her nose. "C'mon, don't be like that! I sent you a telegram. It may be my fault I got the date of the auction wrong, but I had to attend it no matter what. After all," she placed a scroll on Taki's desk, "look at this beauty I got."
He ignored her grin and reluctantly switched his attention to the scroll. As he carefully unrolled it, he took in the unexpected image of a meditating Buddhist monk surrounded by delicate lotus flowers. The paper bore the signs of an age far older than his own, yet its condition was astoundingly well-preserved. Taki immediately realized he was holding a rare treasure in his hands.
"Impressive, right?" Tamatori's grin continued to widen. "It's a painting of monk Saicho from over 800 years ago."
"Mm, it's decent," Taki answered indifferently and rolled the scroll back with ten times more care. Paying no mind to her offended look, he continued, "That wasn't the only burden you dumped on me."
She frowned at him in confusion before realization finally downed on her. "Ah."
"Ah," he parroted back, his smile failing to reach his eyes.
"Ok, ok, my bad, I forgot to leave you food." Tamatori removed the golden hairpin from her hair and swiftly cut a small wound into her wrist using its sharp tip. Approaching his side, she nonchalantly extended her arm in invitation. "Here, drink as much as you want."
Taki sighed and eventually accepted the hand. Pressing his lips to the cut, he slowly sucked the all-too-familiar blood. However, it wasn't long before he let go with a frown.
"Did you run into the guests at an izakaya, Boss? The only thing I can taste in your veins is alcohol."
Shiro-uneri did his best to stifle a laugh from the sofa. Taki, meanwhile, finally felt satisfied at the sheer magnitude of outrage plastered across her face.
"Hah, you're really picky for someone who should be hungry." The infuriating grin quickly returned to her face as she crossed her arms. "Did you have another meal in the meantime? Perhaps with the one who left you that love letter?"
"It's not..." Taki pressed his lips into a thin line and threw another glare at the little snitch, causing her to choke on a piece of chocolate the second their eyes met. "It's not a love letter," he repeated with a resigned mumble. Keeping his mouth shut, he gestured for Tagitsuhime to hand him the guest list.
"So, who's your paramour?" Tamatori asked, casually resting on the side of Taki's desk.
Refusing to entertain her with an answer, he turned his attention to the list. He went over it several times, but the names remained the same. His memory hadn't failed him.
"He's not on the guest list," Taki muttered.
"You mean Mr Seimei?" Tagitsuhime perked up. "Of course he isn't. He came with his mother's invitation letter. Hmm, I think her name was Kuzunoha!"
For a split second, everything in the room went dead silent. Taki, Tamatori, and Shiro-uneri blinked at the clueless girl before Tamatori and Shiro-uneri turned their disbelief on Taki, who seemed to have frozen in his seat.
"Kuzunoha's son?!" Tamatori's explosive laugh finally broke the silence. "Taki, you didn’t know that until now?"
She vigorously slapped his shoulder in her laughing fit, but Taki was too busy still trying to rearrange the mess in his thoughts to even flinch. Well, of course he was so familiar with the past, Taki thought back on the questions he had asked Seimei on a whim. Of course you felt at ease talking to him, he remembered how rarely he brought up his own past in front of others. Of course he wasn't even bothered to share his blood with you. Taki could feel his face growing hot at a rapid pace. After all, he's a vampire just like you.
"Say, did you bite him? How was it?" Tamatori continued to pester him.
So good it made me weak in the knees, Taki thought and kept it to himself. He hadn't felt this dull-witted in decades. Had he been in top shape that night, would he have seen the signs? Would he have saved himself the trouble if he had simply asked for his name sooner? And yet, Seimei could have told Taki at any moment during their conversation that he, too, was a vampire—but he chose not to. Was there a reason?
Another slap on his shoulder yanked him out of his musings. His boss, laughing so hard she nearly choked, managed to say, "Our pretentious, fussy old man found quite the catch, and he didn't even know it!" As the heat in his face began to fade, Taki regained his composure and quietly passed her the cup on his desk. She chugged the drink in one go, pulling a grimace completely unbefitting of her graceful image. "The hell is this tea?!"
Taki controlled his urge to chuckle and picked up a stack of papers to square them up. "Now that you've all had your fun, please go sleep and let me finish my work."
Tuning out their complaints, his eyes landed on the note once again. He'd have to ask Seimei the reason in person soon.
-
The set date was a Sunday afternoon. Taki had taken care of all pressing matters beforehand to ensure his day off remained undisturbed. He took one last look in the mirror. His hair was styled to perfection, the white undershirt and kimono were clean as new, and not a single speck of dust could be seen on his hakama. He was more than ready to walk into a bookstore.
As he put on his coat, something slipped out of its pocket, but Taki's attempt to reach for it proved to be futile. With the note in his mouth, Hizz happily flaunted his prize to him.
"You can't come with me even if you take that note hostage." Taki knelt down to his level on the floor. "It's too cold for you." He scratched his chin in an attempt to snatch the note from his mouth, but he dodged expertly. "Fine, I leave it in your care then."
Noticing the evident delight sparkling in his eyes, Taki paused in thought. "Hizz, did you happen to run into Seimei that night?" he asked, still scratching his chin. An enthusiastic hiss confirmed his suspicions. The realization that his little companion might have figured out Seimei’s identity before him was both humorous and a little humbling.
He got up and threw another glance at his face in the mirror. Hair colour was easy to alter, so the most telltale sign of a vampire was always the blood-red of their eyes. Yet, Seimei’s were as blue as a summer sky—hardly what one would expect from the son of one of the oldest and most renowned vampires of the ancient capital.
"You'll be late for your date if you keep staring in that mirror."
"It's not a..." Taki opted to just sigh in resignation. Seeing Tamatori grin at him in the hallway, he couldn’t help but ask a flat "What?"
"You know, when I compiled the guest list, I added Kuzunoha for two reasons. The first, obviously, being the chance to have a hotshot like her attend our event. It gets people talking, which is free publicity."
Taki ignored the way she rubbed her thumb and index finger together like a shameless market vendor. "And the second reason?"
"Well, you seemed hesitant when I said I wanted to move to Kyoto. I thought it might do you good to talk to one of your kind since you share a common background and all."
Her blunt honesty was so casual that Taki briefly questioned if he'd heard her correctly. However, any chance of being moved by her words was interrupted by another hearty slap on his shoulder.
"But this turned out better than I expected!" she broke into a laugh. "Now off you go, and don’t come back here until morning, you hear?"
He threw her a look, put on his hat, bowed slightly, and let out another dramatic sigh as he stepped out the door.
-
The Ozaki Bookstore was situated on Teramachi Street, about a half-hour's walk along the banks of the Kamo River from Shinmonzen Street. Taki hadn’t had much chance to explore Kyoto in recent days, so he certainly didn't mind the walk.
He had often strolled along Teramachi Street in his youth. Centuries ago, the area had been devastated by the Onin War, but it was later rebuilt, and numerous temples were relocated to the eastern side. With time, it developed into a bustling shopping street, and by the end of the 17th century, it became home to a variety of bookstores, samisen shops, rosaries sellers, and stationary stores.
When Taki stepped into the street, the first change that caught his eye was the tramway tracks stretching along it. These might have clashed with the street’s previous aesthetic, but now, alongside the streetlamps and scattered Western-style shops, they fit the street’s new look. He wouldn't consider himself someone avid to change; in fact, Taki had long learned to welcome it. Yet, on the rare occasions he looked back, a quiet loneliness would settle over him as if he were the sole spectator of a play. To set aside the feeling, he focused on remembering the way to the bookstore he had once frequented. A new shoe shop, a photo studio, an old samisen shop—and just across the street, there it was: the Ozaki Bookstore.
Taki stopped to take in the view: an open facade, large wooden panels making up its structure, and tall, column-shaped wooden signs boldly inscribed with calligraphy at the entrance. If not for the large glass windows, he might have thought he’d wandered back in time. Old bookstores with open facades were already becoming a rarity, but it was the interior that truly set this one apart.
Past the noren curtains at the entrance, a handful of people were browsing through the stacks of books neatly arranged horizontally on the shelves, while others sat on the tatami mats, absorbed in their reading. Taki took off his boots at the doma and stepped on the raised tatami floor. It almost felt like an old friend was welcoming him with open arms, and he couldn't help but smile at the sight.
Shortly after, the voice of the owner also welcomed him in. "Oh my, if it isn't Master Taki himself!" There was a low desk on the left side of the room. An elderly woman paused her lively conversation with a customer and greeted him with a bow. "I was just talking about the wonderful time I had at the event you organized two days ago. It's a pleasure to see you in my store today," she said with a soft chuckle.
She had an openness to her that involuntarily pulled Taki in. It seemed that some of Kyoto's elders really had long since become accustomed to outsiders like him.
"The pleasure is all mine, Mrs Ozaki." Taki took off his hat and bowed back. "It's been a while since I was last here, but it's quite impressive how little the store has changed. It’s obvious a lot of care has gone into maintaining it."
Her eyes lit up, clearly delighted to hear praise for her family business. She began explaining the challenges of preserving the shop's original aesthetic and the pressure from fast-paced modern businesses, which ultimately led to the decision to transition into an antiquarian bookstore. The old lady was lovely, but Taki could sense that she was going to go on a long tangent. He checked his pocket watch—15 minutes until the agreed time—and went for a quick distraction.
"I see, so the store still has books that are centuries old?" Taki asked eagerly, a mix of feigned interest and genuine curiosity. "Do you mind if I take a look at them, Mrs Ozaki?"
"Feel free, Master Taki! The oldest ones are right over there with the woodblock prints," she gestured behind him.
Taki bowed slightly and left her to chat with the other customers. Looking at the books on the shelves, he had to admit that he was impressed. Not only were they antiques, but they were so well preserved that someone unfamiliar with them might easily think they were no more than fifty years old. He picked up a book with a vividly coloured cover, featuring various monsters from folklore. It was a ghost story collection, but Taki was familiar neither with the title nor with the author. He flipped through the pages, smiling at the nostalgic, ghastly illustrations of spirits and demons. His eyes then landed on the writing on the front page. It seemed to be a brief expression of gratitude to a previous owner of the bookstore, written in black ink and signed by the author himself. Despite being unfamiliar with the collection, the graceful strokes of the handwriting almost felt familiar to Taki. He stared for a bit in thought, until the faded red cover of a different book caught his eye.
Taking the two books, he settled near the edge of the tatami seating area. Back when he was a child, red covers indicated illustrated books containing concise retellings of folk tales and legends. The title Hagoromo was written with bold kanji on the cover he picked, and a fond smile rested on his lips. It was the tale of a fisherman who found the magical feather garment of a celestial maiden. Unable to return to Heaven without the garment, she got into an argument with the fisherman. The man eventually agreed to return it if she danced for him. She accepted, and after performing the dance, the maiden finally returned to her heavenly home.
His father had once bought him the very same edition he now held in his hands. As a child, Taki had been fascinated by the fisherman's audacity to bargain with a celestial being over a piece of cloth. He had often asked his father whether such a garment could truly exist. To humour him, the man would reply, "Of course it does. I get fishermen like that bargaining with me every day over our silks and brocades." To his father, those words were just a lighthearted quip, but to young Taki, they were the spark that lit his interest in the family's affairs.
His fingers mindlessly traced the contours of the illustrated feather garment.
"I didn't expect you to enjoy children's books, Mr Manager."
The steady, smooth voice, laced with a hint of amusement, instantly brought Taki back to the present. He snapped his head and nearly lost his breath when his gaze met that pair of blue eyes right beside him.
Had the moment been different or the person someone else, Taki might have flashed a gallant smile and tossed in a clever remark. But at that very moment, the memories of the previous night flooded back into his mind all at once in vivid detail. Pair that with the lack of any mask to obstruct the graceful features of Seimei's face, and for the first time in decades, Taki found himself unable to form a single word.
"I'm sorry, did I surprise you?" Seimei smiled apologetically and settled down more comfortably.
He probably shouldn't be staring. "In more ways than you could imagine," Taki's voice finally broke through the stillness.
Seimei opened his folding fan and chuckled. "I take it you've found out by now." After a short pause, he added, "I'm also sorry for leaving in a rush, but it's good to see you again."
He wore a dark blue kimono complemented by a light-colored haori decorated with feather motifs, and his hair was tied into a loose ponytail that draped over his shoulder. It wasn’t the first time Taki had thought this, but there was an air of effortless grace about Seimei that had a calming effect on him. He steadied himself and asked, "Forgive me for being so forward, but why didn't you say anything that night?"
Seimei pointed at the book on Taki's lap. "You enjoy folk tales, don't you? Isn't it a common trope for shapeshifters and spirits to run away once their true identities are exposed?"
He crossed his arms, playfully mimicking disapproval at the joke. "You're hardly a fox, a crane, or yuki-onna, though."
"You're right. I'm only a half-vampire." Seeing the surprise on Taki's face, Seimei laughed. "So you hadn't found out everything, after all. It's not something I go out of my way to tell people, so it's understandable."
Taki hesitated, unsure whether to press further, but Seimei noticed and chose to continue. "My mother is a vampire, but my father was a regular human." A shadow of sadness passed over his smile at the mention of his father, but he went on, "For the most part, I'm just like you. I've lived for over two hundred years, I feed on blood, and sunlight exhausts me. But my eyes are blue, like my father's, and they rarely ever turn red."
"That sounds almost like a blessing. It must make blending in considerably easier," Taki mused.
"You could say that. But it also means I can’t control when my eyes change colour, which was the case the other night. I already draw enough attention as it is," Seimei said with a wry sigh. "I really didn't want to attract even more if I returned like that. I wasn't necessarily trying to hide it from you either, but I have to admit, it was pleasant to just have a chat about common interests with an unassuming stranger."
Ignoring the way his heart fluttered at those words, Taki smirked. "I did say that the purpose of the event was to 'discuss our shared interests under the guise of anonymity.' And you certainly leaned into that."
"And that's why I thought we could still do that today, or at least partially." Seimei set his folding fan aside and reached for a book with a faded yellow cover lying next to him. "You said you liked Ihara Saikaku's works. The bookstore still has a few volumes left."
Once again attempting to ignore how pleased he felt that Seimei had remembered, Taki took the book. It seemed to be the third volume of The Eternal Storehouse of Japan, a collection of short stories about townspeople who either built or squandered their fortunes.
"It brings back so many memories." He smiled as he flipped through the pages. "My father loved this one."
With each turn of the page, more memories resurfaced, and Taki fell silent. After a moment, he looked at Seimei and asked, "That night, were you curious why you hadn't heard of me before despite my being a vampire from Kyoto, just like you?"
Seimei's eyes widened at the question.
"Since you were honest with me, I don't mind sharing my own story." Taki set the book aside, closed his eyes, and let the words flow. "My father was an astounding merchant in service to a local lord. But he was just a human and so was my late mother. I wasn't born a vampire, unlike the other ones in Kyoto. Growing up, all I wanted was to make him proud. His goods were of the highest quality, so I took pleasure in managing the affairs of his shop. The rarest of his possessions, though, wasn't even for sale. It was a family heirloom dating back to the days of the Onin War...a vial of vampire blood."
Taki’s eyes remained on the book in his lap, but he still caught Seimei’s soft gasp of surprise. It was an old practice, frowned upon by many, yet during times of war, certain individuals would go to great lengths to seize power. Turning to a vampire for aid on such occasions was not unheard of, though whether the vampire would consent was another matter. Human greed knew no bounds, so vampires rarely gave into it.
"The circumstances of how the vial ended up in my possession don't make for a remarkable story, though," Taki continued with a bitter smile. "My father was a great man, but it only took the greed of one of his men to provoke the lord's wrath, and bring ruin upon us. In the end, I had to resort to that vial." A shadow darkened Taki's gaze and he fell quiet.
Seimei had listened patiently, giving Taki the time to sort through his thoughts. It wasn't a fresh wound, but a scar on his heart—one that had long since healed, yet was still unpleasant to look at. Eventually, Taki let out a sigh and faced Seimei again. "I left Kyoto soon after that, so there was no way for you to meet me." His tone was light, but Seimei understood.
"Did you regret opening the vial?"
"I did at first, and for some of the years that followed, but then I got used to it."
"You may have lost what you had, but you found the strength to rebuild it from the ground up and come back. I'm sure your father would still be proud to see his son outlive him and grow into a respectable man."
Although Taki had never sought anyone's sympathy, the sincerity of Seimei's words, coupled with his soft smile, brought an unexpected sense of warmth to his chest. He could almost say he felt shy.
"Thank you," Taki murmured, his gaze falling to his lap as he worked to steady his racing heart. A heavy turn in the conversation wasn’t what he had in mind for tonight.
A brief moment of silence settled between them, broken only by the soft rustling of pages in the bookstore. Taki's attention shifted to the ghost story collection he had picked up earlier, and something fell into place in his mind.
"On a different note, can I ask you another forward question?" Taki waited for Seimei’s hum of acknowledgment before holding up the book. "Are you the one who wrote this? I did hear that you are a writer, but you’ve likely used various pennames over the years, so I wasn’t certain where to look."
The mix of surprise and mild alarm on Seimei's face was rather amusing. So his hunch had been correct.
"This copy has a handwritten addition on the front page," Taki explained. "It's semi-cursive and some strokes extend beyond conventional limits, but the overall effect is polished and elegant. It reminded me of your handwriting."
"Your attention to detail is commendable," Seimei said quietly, hidden behind his folding fan.
Rather than admitting just how long he had studied Seimei's note to make such an effortless observation, Taki simply responded with a charming smile.
"It's one of my first works, so it's not as polished as the handwriting itself." Despite his poised demeanor, Seimei's voice betrayed traces of embarrassment, which Taki found highly entertaining.
"I see," he said while flipping through the pages. "Then which one would you recommend to me instead?"
As they stood there chatting, time seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. The dim light of the paper lanterns became a comforting presence, inviting them to reminisce together. It wasn't until Taki noticed the bookstore had grown quiet and glanced at the pocket watch that he realized two hours had already slipped by.
Before bidding good night to Mrs Ozaki, Taki made sure to purchase the three books, including the ghost story collection. It was hard for him to miss the way Seimei's eyes awkwardly flickered toward it, and he couldn't help but chuckle to himself.
The night remained quiet as snowflakes slowly fell under the hazy glow of the moon. Their steps were just as slow, as if neither wanted to rush and leave the street behind too soon. It had been a while since Taki had enjoyed someone's company along Teramachi Street. The last time he was here...ah, he was heading home with his father. That night when everything fell apart, the snow was falling just as peacefully. Dark clouds drifted over the moon, and the sharp, metallic taste rose unbidden in his memories.
"There's a nice beef hotpot restaurant on the corner. Would you like to grab a bite?" Seimei asked, the question sudden enough to stop Taki in his tracks.
"Beef hotpot?"
-
It was indeed a nice restaurant. Designed in a simple Japanese aesthetic, the room upstairs had low wooden tables and cushions for seating, offering an intriguing contrast to the chandelier above. The place was fairly empty given the late hour, which allowed the two to enjoy the peaceful sense of privacy it offered.
Taki watched closely as Seimei sprinkled sugar over the heated pot in the center of the table, then placed thin slices of beef on top and let them cook slowly. He clearly had a knack for this, making Taki wonder if he frequented this place. His gaze involuntarily settled on Seimei’s lips.
"Regular food can't satiate us, but we can always appreciate the taste," Seimei said, taking a small bowl of rice and topping it with a few pieces of cooked beef. "It's just that you looked like you could use some company earlier, so I thought we could stop here for a bit."
The nonchalance of his statement caught Taki off guard. Without thinking, he automatically took the bowl Seimei handed him, and whispered a quiet 'thank you.' Had his feelings always been this easy to read? He couldn't even remember the last time he'd had a cooked meal anymore, though the soft, subtly sweet flavour of the meat was nice on his tongue.
"Do you like it?" Seimei asked with a knowing look. "It's nice to have something different from blood every once in a while, even if it's just for the taste." He blew lightly on his food and took a small bite; Taki found his gaze drawn to the movement.
"If only the blood I usually drink also tasted as good as this," Taki let out a lighthearted sigh. "But Boss' blood is like a volatile blend of chaos and an overload of spice."
"The shop owner?"
Taki gave a confirming hum. "I’ve never found the taste of blood appealing, but the real challenge is finding someone willing to offer it. When I met her, she took a liking to me and said that as long as I worked for her, she would let me have her blood as often as I needed."
"Like a contract?"
"You could put it like that," Taki laughed. Looking back, when he first joined her, both Tagitsuhime and Shiro-uneri often offered to give him their blood. However, if he could avoid biting someone, he would. The existence of an equal exchange 'contract' soothed his conscience, so he became reliant solely on Tamatori.
"Then wasn't what we did the other night a breach of contract?" Seimei asked, his subtle smile stirring something in Taki's chest.
The memories came rushing back in an instant, so to prevent his voice from getting caught in his throat again, he pushed them aside and simply stated, "She disappeared for three days without a word and didn’t leave me anything. I’d say we are even."
Seimei hummed in thought. "Did you find my blood unappealing as well?"
How could he possibly ask that?
"Of course not. It was the single most delicious taste I've ever had on my tongue," Taki answered with a pleased grin.
The sincere response certainly wasn't what Seimei had expected. His eyes widened as he paused to collect his thoughts. "You did look like you really enjoyed it," he said quietly. "So you don't bite your boss the same way you bit my wrist?"
If he hadn't lost his breath earlier, he definitely did now. Taki set his bowl aside and scanned the room: they were alone, with only the moonlight streaming through the large window as their witness. He slowly reached for Seimei's wrist on the table, tracing it lightly with his finger. "Her blood doesn't make me drop to my knees," Taki whispered just for Seimei's ears.
Their eyes met, and for a few moments, neither spoke, but Taki's hand continued to draw circles on his wrist.
"Then would you ever do it again?" Seimei whispered back. "Even if we aren't bound by a contract?"
Taki hesitated. As intoxicating as the taste of Seimei's blood was to him, what he did that night had been purely out of necessity. He could be content with the memory alone, but the silent invitation in Seimei’s eyes made him falter.
After some careful consideration, Taki slid his hand from Seimei's wrist up to the collar of his own shirt, loosening a few buttons. He tugged at the collar, revealing his neck. A faint smile played at the corners of his lips when he met Seimei's gaze. "Only if you also bite me. This way, we'd be even."
Seimei inhaled sharply. He seemed to hesitate, but after a quick look around the empty room, he quietly approached Taki's side of the table. Seimei's fingers, warm against his neck, hovered for a moment as he gave Taki a silent, questioning look, seeking permission before his lips replaced the fingers.
Everyone Taki had bitten before wore the same uneasy look on their faces, so he had always assumed a vampire's bite only brought pain. Even Tamatori, with all of her nonchalance, would wince before eventually growing used to it. Therefore, when Seimei's sharp fangs sank into his neck, he really couldn't have anticipated that the stinging would be accompanied by a tingling sensation that coursed from his neck all the way down his spine. Taki felt his face growing hot, so he gripped Seimei's shoulder for balance. The gesture only encouraged him to bite harder and suck at the spot.
He could have taken his time, but instead, Seimei withdrew his teeth soon enough for Taki to lament their absence. And yet, his face remained nestled in the crook of Taki's neck, with only the sound of his soft, rapid breaths breaking the silence in the room. Taki pushed Seimei's shoulder to check on him. To his surprise, not only was his face just as flushed as his own, but the eyes that met his were the same deep, piercing crimson. Taki couldn't help but chuckle.
"Do they turn red when you're excited?" He moved his hand to Seimei's lips, pressing his thumb against a sharp fang. "Is that actually why you left early?"
"I've never been bitten like that before," Seimei mumbled in his defense. Leaning back into Taki's neck, he nibbled at the bite marks to mirror the way Taki had done it the previous night. He let out a soft gasp and Seimei met him with a knowing smile.
Dazed, Taki cupped his cheek and pulled him into a kiss. Seimei happily leaned in and grazed his lower lip with a fang to draw blood. Accepting the invitation, Taki bit him back and savoured the taste. When vampire blood had first touched his lips, he gagged at the sharp, rusty tang of misery it carried. He never thought he'd end up indulging in it the way he did now. But the taste of Seimei's blood between their lips was sweet, warm and so utterly comforting it felt like a gentle embrace.
"It's still the most delicious taste I've had on my tongue," Taki murmured, pulling away to catch his breath.
Seimei would have kissed him again, had they not heard the distant sound of footsteps and laughter coming up the staircase. They parted and settled back into their seats, rearranging their clothes.
Taki wiped the blood from his lips, aware of Seimei's gaze. "You should finish your meal," he teased as he licking the blood off his thumb. "The beef will get cold."
It was Seimei's turn to find himself at a loss for words.
-
When they stepped out of the restaurant, the street was already draped in a blanket of snow. Seimei, with only his haori for cover, shivered slightly from the cold. Taki noticed and handed him his coat.
"Thank you, but don't worry. I'm taking the tram. Besides, won't you get cold?"
"But you'll have a good reason to pay me a visit and return it," Taki smirked. "And I'm fine with cold weather."
"I would have done it anyway," Seimei laughed, taking the coat.
"Great, then you can come by tomorrow for the shop's opening. We've also recently acquired an item that might fulfill your mother's unusual request, so now you have two reasons."
"Three reasons," Seimei returned the teasing smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, Taki."
The tram arrived soon after, and Seimei put on the coat, wishing him good night. Taki found himself walking alone once again, but this time, his heart felt lighter with every step he took along the street. As the snowflakes settled and the night sky cleared, the snow now gleamed under the silvery glow of the full moon. The only noise was the soft crunch of the snow under his boots, bringing him an odd sense of comfort. He looked up at the moon, and the memory of his father’s final words as he handed him the vial returned to him: "I trust you, so stay on a path that leads you forward, and this old man will rest easy."
Taki stopped for a moment, inhaling deeply as the familiar scent of firewood and incense drifting from the nearby temples washed over him. Smiling to himself, he lightly brushed the spot where Seimei had bitten him—the marks already beginning to heal—and picked up the pace. He needed to get home and lecture the three airheads who were almost certainly still awake, even though the shop opened early tomorrow. It was going to be a busy day, and he looked forward to it.