Chapter Text
Kuzuha has a pet dog.
She’s a wonderful, quiet little thing. Never complains, stays in her pen, licks his face when he asks for puppy kisses, greets him enthusiastically, even worries when he gets too rowdy with his video games. A dainty little pinscher named Leo-chan, no bite and no bark, just plain cuteness.
He spoils her rotten.
But she’s skittish at times - she’s only one dog in a big room after all - it’s not hard for her to get spooked by shadows.
Which is exactly why he cannot allow the neighboring children to set off street fireworks this year (and startle his princess? Never).
A normal, perfectly functional person would politely request they light their ridiculous, overcompensating sparklers in a less populated area - the beach, perhaps, or even an alleyway (though Kuzuha is unsure of the consequences of unleashing minimised explosions in a closed space).
So he does this! Like a practical member of society. After ambushing the group of tweens on their way past his complex at a questionable hour.
And the brats say nothing of acknowledging him: only that they get their contraband from a ‘friendly onii-san in apartment seven of that building over there’. When he repeats his very mild demand, the wretched germs snicker and laugh, so he resists turning them into fresh dog food and stalks off to hunt down this mysterious owner of apartment number seven. Which, he’s delighted to discover, is right next to his very own apartment number nine.
(His victory is short-lived; he quickly realises there’s nowhere else it could be, and that he’s just a tad dumb. He blames his fevered brain on loving his dog a bit too much.)
With this information, he’s presented with two options:
- Ask the so-called friendly onii-san to control his troop of ugly rugrats and hope it goes well.
By nature, Kuzuha is far from a sociable person - and if this guy is anything like his merry band of followers, it’s going to be hard to converse amiably without wanting to kick in his ankles. Worst case scenario, he’d be apprehended for assault and, being a regular consumer of human life-blood, charged with attempted predation; sending up a beacon to all demon hunters in the near vicinity-- if he isn’t arrested first.
Yikes. He rules it out.
Ask the so-called friendly onii-san to control his troop of ugly rugrats and hope it goes well.- Complain to the authorities. Assuming the authorities care, which they don’t.
A simple process of elimination leaves him with no choices, other than the one he decides to create himself. This is how he ends up alighted on nextdoor’s balcony, wondering what idiot doesn’t lock the balcony entrance to keep out unruly, thieving vampires.
Like Kuzuha.
Because he’s about to rob this guy of his fireworks.
(…Anything for his princess, who is waiting for his return, wagging her tail, since he promised her some treats in exchange for her patience.)
When the shadow he’s been staking out for the better part of an hour finally vacates the room, Kuzuha clicks open the balcony doors. He fumbles through the dark curtains hiding apartment seven away from the glitter of city lights, and emerges into a minimalistic accommodation decorated in a vaguely familiar palette of blacks, greys, whites and soft blues.
It’s not something he stops to think about - he has to move fast. The owner has left his phone on the kitchen counter, which buzzes noisily with a Twitter notification that nearly scares Kuzuha out of his skin. The fact that it’s here means he won’t be gone for long.
While the lights remain off, Kuzuha works by the glow of the space heater buzzing warmly by the balcony. It keeps the room at a near-stifling temperature as he desperately stumbles around looking for anything that may resemble fireworks. He trips over something furry, and hears a flurry of light pawsteps as it skitters off. Catching a pair of golden eyes leering at him from the shadows, unease prickles down Kuzuha’s spine like cool water, sending a freezing shudder through his body.
Shortly after that hair-raising encounter, he spies a large paper bag propped against the arm of the sofa, and, upon investigation, finds packs of sparklers, fountains and mini-crackers stacked neatly inside. The brands themselves are a haphazard collection of different department and toy stores around the city, but that matters little to him - Leo-chan can rest easy tonight!
Applauding himself, the vampire turns, smug-faced and strutting, to depart to whence he came, bounty tucked securely under his arm.
Suddenly, a sharp pain rakes over his ankle. He yowls in shock as it sparks through him, and he stumbles over a dark mass he can’t make out and takes the glass pane of the balcony window to the chin. Feet tangling in the curtains, he flails aimlessly to escape, heart hammering in his chest.
The front door makes a sharp sound.
Time slows to what feels like a tenth of a second - Kuzuha’s breath hitches, hands curling tighter around the paper bag. Oh god, he’s going to get arrested. How did he think this was a good idea? He’ll never see his precious Leo-chan again - and the door swings open.
Light from the hall pours into the room, bathing the figure in an angelic glow. Kuzuha is struck utterly still, all working thoughts stolen away into the night, when the owner of apartment seven illuminates the lounge with a flick of a switch.
Rainwater eyes stare back at him, as wide as plates. The familiar slope of the shoulders tucked under a grey turtleneck-sweater, lithe fingers that Kuzuha knows fit sweetly into his own. His flaxen hair is a shade darker than usual, tossed over his left shoulder in a loose tail, and all of it leaves the vampire with a sickening wave of nostalgia.
It’s been too long. Far, far too long.
The moment shatters when Kanae audibly gasps out his shock, then makes a break for his kitchen counter.
It takes all of Kuzuha’s willpower to choke out a strangled, “Wait-!”
Forgetting he’s been seized by a very knotted set of curtains, Kuzuha moves to intercept, only to fall flat on his face. He groans.
Remembering that Kanae has probably picked up his phone by now - not that he can see while eating floor - Kuzuha struggles through regaining some sense of dignity.
“Wait- just wait . I’m your neighbor!”
…He’s desperate.
Kanae hesitates, phone in one hand and the other paused mid-dial. He watches Kuzuha with narrowed eyes. A ball of black and white fur sashays into the corner of his vision.
“Roto, get away from him.”
Instinctively, Kuzuha’s face twists up in discontent, “It was you ?”
Roto stares back at him unblinkingly. He grimaces.
“Do you know my cat?” Kanae’s phone hand lowers a smidge, he takes it as a good sign.
“Do I know-” Kuzuha stops himself, and scowls, before settling on a grumble, “Of course I know your frickin’ cat .”
There’s a few beats of silence where Kanae scrutinises him intently. Swallowing his anxiety, Kuzuha begins to gingerly extricate himself from the curtain’s twisted limbs, so as not to irritate the guy who caught him red-handed. If he can make the dash out the balcony, he’ll take Leo-chan and move apartments - maybe even move districts, just so he never has to come face-to-face with the latest rendition of his partner again. Ever.
“Don’t move.”
Kuzuha stiffens. Damn.
Kanae has taken a knife from the holder by the kitchenette’s stove, and is pointing it at him as he approaches slowly. Roto licks a paw and swipes it over his ear.
“You said you were my neighbor - I’ve never even seen you before.” The brunette pauses, a realization seems to pass over him, “What did you take?”
Though less of a situation where he’s afraid of injury by knife, he doesn’t want to terrify his friend - new reincarnation or not. Growing pale in his indecisiveness on what to do, Kuzuha eyes the phone.
“I’m not calling the police,” The accusatory tone scourges him, “If you tell me what the hell you’re doing in my house, neighbor .”
A draw-back of the shut-in life that Kuzuha never thought would haunt him.
“I really am your neighbor,” He squeaks out, then clears his throat when he gets a confused look, “Apartment number nine.”
Kanae stops a few feet away. The red glow of the space heater plays on his skin, smoothing it over with shades of orange.
“I knew someone was living there,” He mutters, “I thought I was imagining things.” Raising his voice, he says loudly, “Are those my fireworks?”
Kuzuha glances at the paper bag still clutched in his arms.
“Are you stealing my fireworks?”
He doesn’t miss how miffed Kanae sounds, because, well, it’s reasonable - fireworks aren’t on the top ten list of things to steal.
“I was ,” He enunciates, considering his options.
If Kanae is the onii-san those brats were talking about, then he might have a better chance at preserving Leo-chan’s fragile doggy ears.
“But if you tell your stupid band of kids not to light them in front of the complex again, I may reconsider.”
Kanae scoffs, “I don’t think you have any grounds to negotiate, thief.”
Next to him, the space heater hisses. While Kuzuha’s vampiric senses pick up the sound, Kanae doesn’t seem to notice, focused intently on pointing his weapon at Kuzuha’s nose.
“I have a pet dog now,” He retorts, “They’ll scare her!”
“ You ?” Apparently taken-aback, Kanae squints, “I thought you were a vampire.”
“What?”
“You look like one.”
That’s true. Kuzuha scrunches his nose and clicks his tongue. He doesn’t know how to navigate this version of Kanae yet - his brain is still buzzing with the fact that he’s alive, and fate has once again delivered. Stomach churning with a mix of apprehension and relief, Kuzuha tries to find his footing.
“I guess so.”
He reaches up and redirects the point of the knife with a finger against its flat. Kanae only takes a half-step back, now alert to the idea that such a lousy kitchen utensil isn’t going to do much to a near-immortal entity with demonic powers.
“If you call the police though, my dog will go to the pound.”
“You broke into my house and you’re worried about your dog ?”
“That’s why I’m here.”
Kanae throws his cat an exasperated look. Kuzuha expects Roto to give some form of uninterested reaction, but the pet instead perks his ears, pupils dilating at a spot to Kuzuha’s right. Kuzuha frowns, though his attention is stolen back as Kanae groans.
“This is so weird. You’re weird.” He sucks in a breath, “A vampire broke into my house to steal fireworks because they were going to scare his pet dog. Okay .” Messaging his temple, he slumps in defeat, “I’ll tell the kids to move. You’re not going to suck my blood, are you?”
Leave it to Kanae to ask a weird question. Kuzuha gives a nervous laugh.
“Of course not.”
His former partner’s brows knit. But as Kanae opens his mouth to comment on the unease in Kuzuha’s tone - which he’s not sure this Kanae should be able to pick up on yet, he doesn’t even know his name - Roto’s distressed cry slices the air.
Then the world bursts into red.
Kanae darts to scoop a hissing and spitting Roto up from the floor. Kuzuha whips around - the space heater is coughing sparks and a blaze is quickly climbing up the curtains.
Fire . Oh, oh shit, fire.
Before he can react, the fabric around him has gone up in flames, licking at his skin. He drops the bag in his hands like a hot potato and scrambles out of the burning folds, just as the fireworks explode into a multi-coloured bonfire. A miniature rocket shoots past with a high whistle and pinballs against the doorframe to the bedroom, its trail leaves the rug burning. A yell strangles in his throat as he slaps out a flame threatening to grow on his sleeve.
Danger puts all of Kuzuha’s senses on high-alert, adrenaline flooding his veins. Kanae stands rigid with Roto in arms, eyes wide and mouth parted in petrifying shock in the middle of the inferno. A familiar, desperate feeling rocks violently through Kuzuha:
Protect .
“ Move !” He shrieks over the roar of flames, hand closing around one of Kanae’s wrists in a vice-tight grip.
He can feel Kanae’s pulse thrumming wildly under his fingers as he throws open the door as the sofa joins the fire. They barrel out into the hallway hard enough that Kanae’s back hits the wall opposite, but Kuzuha is already running for the extinguisher by the stairwell.
Smashing through the glass with just his fist, he yanks the fire extinguisher from its holders and dashes back to the entrance to apartment number seven - and unleashes a sea of foam inside. He presses on into the flames to put them out, thoroughly soaking them down into a black, sooty pile of ashes.
By the time the fire extinguisher empties, apartment number seven’s furniture is reduced to crispy, black remains. The kitchen is scorched dark and the lounge is a charred mess of holes and scraps. A thick smoke billows over the room and Kuzuha splutters it from his lungs, dropping to his knees just outside the door.
Two or three other residents from down the hall have poked their heads out, looking on in shock and horror. Someone declares they called the fire department. Another announces the police are on the phone.
But Kuzuha is focused on the wound on his arm, flesh marred and sooty under a burnt-through sleeve. It knits itself together bit by bit, and the vampire just grits his teeth. He’s always hated fire. Kanae is panting hunched against the wall, Roto nuzzling into his cheek from his arms. Their eyes meet and Kuzuha watches as the owner of a destroyed apartment reigns himself in.
“...Are you alright?” He wheezes out, voice croaky.
Kuzuha returns with a solemn nod, “Yeah. Tell everyone to leave while the smoke clears.”
He gets to his feet and heads for apartment number nine, as Kanae stares after him. He wants to bury his nose in Leo-chan’s fur, to cure the fresh ache of exhaustion.
At exactly eleven-sixteen on the thirty-first, apartment seven suffered a fire induced by a misplaced heating device, which was exacerbated by fireworks.
“That’s the report,” The officer bites his lip, and gives Kanae a concerned look, “Are you sure that guy had nothing to do with it?”
Kuzuha squints through the darkness. Winter air bites at his skin and itches his burn. He hears the thud of a car door and watches the fire truck depart with a quiet rumble. The officer’s badge is stuck hastily to the collar of a thick olive coat, like he abandoned a party of sorts to rush to the site. Officer Irohas? Iroas? Kuzuha is unsure, so he clings to Leo-chan a little tighter. She gives him a sympathetic lick on the cheek.
“I’m sure, officer,” Kanae replies kindly, “He’s my neighbor. He happened to be on his way back when he saw what was happening.”
Officer Red-Head nods, “Sure. Last thing, though this is more of a non-work kinda question, do you have anywhere to stay?”
“I have insurance-” Kanae says, hesitates, “-I’m sure I’ll find somewhere to stay while my apartment gets repaired.”
Officer Red-Head is cut off by Kuzuha’s interjection, “You can stay with me.”
Surprised, Kanae gives him a breathy ‘oh’.
“Yeah,” The vampire murmurs, “Don’t mention it.”
Kuzuha’s New Year starts with a Kanae that may as well be a stranger sitting opposite him at the small table on his balcony, perched on a kitchen stool because Kuzuha only had one chair.
Enough time has passed that the lights of the city are starting to go out - many after a heated, late-going celebration, ringing in a wonderful new year. Any successful firework shows have long since ended, and the smoke pouring from Kanae’s husk of an apartment cleared hours ago.
Cheers , Kuzuha thinks bitterly, I set Kanae’s apartment on fire.
“Thanks for this, really,” His voice is small, Roto asleep in his lap.
“I said don’t mention it,” Kuzuha snaps back, then softens as Leo-chan takes a treat from his palm, “It’s the least I can do since I gave such a shit first impression.”
Kanae snorts. Kuzuha cracks a smile.
“It wasn’t entirely your fault, so I can’t blame you for it.”
“If I hadn’t been stupid and tried to rob you it could’ve been better.”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
Kuzuha bites his lip, but Kanae’s resigned smile is breezy. He knows better than to push an argument he won’t win. Leo-chan toddles over and licks the new guest’s ankle. The brunette chuckles.
“Your dog is cute.” He leans down to give the pinscher a scratch under the collar.
“Thanks. I guess.”
“By the way,” Kanae sits up, Roto peeks an eye open, stretches luxuriously, and vacates his lap, “I never caught your name?”
His tone holds something akin to gratitude and the tilt of his head is curious. It’s a bid for peace, an easy olive branch, seeing as Kuzuha has just given over his lodgings and privacy.
To a man he’s known for hundreds of years - not that the other party has any idea.
“Kuzuha,” He replies, and it rolls off the tongue with experience, “It’s Kuzuha.”
Kanae moves his limbs languidly, sore with a tiredness that visibly weighs down on every bone in his body. Opening his palm and offering it harmoniously, he says, “I’m Kanae.”
Without missing a beat, Kuzuha takes his hand in a firm handshake, “Yeah.”
I know.