Archive of Our Own ^beta

His first memory after waking up at the shore was of the pain that covered almost his entire body, in the form of countless bruises and cuts of unknown origin, painfully drenched in salty water. His mind was empty. The only hint he had of his identity was a damp and barely readable letter in his pocket, addressed to “Kazuma”.

I don’t ask for your forgiveness, only that you don’t follow my steps, was all he could read, other than the name.

He had no idea of what those words meant, but the name Kazuma sounded familiar to him—as if it was his own. So, he clung to it, as a small piece of who he once might have been. If he didn’t have at least that, he wasn’t sure if he would have been able to keep going.

He walked aimlessly for a long time, hoping his steps would guide him in the right direction, wherever it happened to be. It was cold… He hugged his own arms, stumbling forward with each step. His lungs burned as he breathed, but he kept going.

Kazuma had no idea of how much time had passed before he finally came across other living beings: a cloaked man in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a group of people with weapons in hand. Weapons… A fight.

Without thinking, as if his body was moving on its own, Kazuma dashed in their direction. To his surprise, his first instinct was to attack that lonesome man. No, this doesn’t make any sense… He is clearly the victim. With that in mind, he approached the assailant closer to the cloaked man, who pointed a sharp sword to his chest. He held that man’s arm, twisting it to make him let go of the sword, then kicked the back of his knees. The man fell down, and Kazuma used that chance to grab his sword, glancing around.

The other men looked at him, as if startled by his sudden interference. Kazuma stood between them and the cloaked man, raising the sword as a warning. Finally breaking out of his shock, one of those men raised his axe, picking up momentum to spin it toward Kazuma’s neck.

Kazuma easily avoided that attack, using the man’s own force against him, striking him from behind as he stumbled past him. Two other opponents approached, and Kazuma stopped a sword attack with his blade. The other man tried to use the opportunity to hit him with a slightly rusty mace. Kazuma evaded it, turning his body around, hitting the man’s arm with a cracking sound.

Where did he learn to fight like that? Who taught him? He knew it wasn’t a common skill to have, and yet, his body moved almost by itself, his opponents’ movements seeming sluggish in comparison to his own.

It didn’t take another minute for those men to stop fighting him. In a silent agreement, the ones who were still standing retreated, one of them lifting an injured companion by the back of his shirt before dragging him along.

So, it was over… Kazuma turned around, meeting the cloaked man’s surprised, ice-colored gaze.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Kazuma.”

“Kazuma…?” The man furrowed his brow, observing him from head to toe with a cautious expression. “Why did you help me?”

“There were three of them.”

“And you thought it was unfair?”

“I… think so.”

Kazuma gritted his teeth: now that the battle was over, the pain came back to him all at once, even worse than before.

“You are wounded,” said the man. “Those men didn’t do this… How did it happen?”

“I’m… not sure…”

That man said something else, but his words sounded distant. His face seemed to get blurry, merging with the scenery around them. A metallic sound echoed when the sword escaped from Kazuma’s hand, followed by the feeling of the man’s arm around his torso, keeping him from falling.

He had finally reached his limit, it seemed.

When Kazuma opened his eyes again, he was in a dimly lit room. He tried to sit up, but his entire body protested against the movement, keeping him in place. With little choice but to stay still, he noticed those small sensations all around him: the mattress under him was firm but comfortable, and the thick covers kept him warm despite their faint musty smell. It made him want to close his eyes again, and drift back into sleep.

“I see you’re awake.”

Kazuma turned his head toward that voice, seeing that man from before sitting in an armchair a few steps away from the bed. He had a book in his hands, illuminated by an ornate lamp—the only source of light in the entire room.

Kazuma’s head was filled with questions, but he couldn’t focus on any of them. The first to leave his lips was the most obvious one: “Where am I?”

“This is my residence,” said the man. “You defended me from those assailants, so I thought I should repay you.”

Kazuma didn’t answer, needing some seconds to fully remember what had happened. The man closed his book, placing it on the desk before standing up. He was tall… Taller than Kazuma remembered—then again, there wasn’t much of that confrontation that he could remember clearly. The man approached him, indicating Kazuma’s chest, making him finally notice the bandages that covered a deep cut.

“How did you get this injured?” he asked.

Kazuma tensed up. “I don’t know.”

The man observed him, suspicious. “Is that true? Or would you rather not say it?”

“I really don’t know…” Kazuma insisted. “I can’t remember. I woke up at the shore, and all I had was…”

He reached for his pocket, only to realize that it was empty.

“What’s the matter?” asked the man.

Kazuma’s heart sank. “It’s gone.”

“What is?”

His mind barely registered that question. That piece of paper had no value… He could barely understand a single line from it, but still… It was everything he had.

The man observed him for a while, his face slowly taken by concern. “Did you lose something important?”

Kazuma looked at him, hesitating. How could he even explain something like that? “No.” He lowered his eyes. “It wasn’t important.”

Silence filled the room, getting heavier with each passing second.

“Very well,” said the man, finally.

More silence. The man stared at Kazuma for a few seconds, as if unsure of what else to say.

“Oh…” He raised his eyebrows, as if hit by a sudden realization. “You must be hungry…” He thought briefly, letting out a low sigh. “I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer you.”

Kazuma stayed silent. He felt sick… The man pulled a watch from his pocket, glancing at it before putting it back in place.

“Stay here,” he said, walking toward the door. “I’ll be back soon.”

Even if Kazuma wanted to leave, it wasn’t like he had anywhere to go—and he didn’t want to leave. It was the first time in days that he had a safe place to stay, without the need to worry about the weather or anything coming for his life. Even if his stay lasted no more than a few hours, he appreciated finally being able to rest.

He closed his eyes, not fighting the wave of exhaustion that overcame him, drifting back into sleep. No more than a few minutes seemed to have passed before a voice brought him back to reality.

“Wake up,” said the man. “I’ve provided some food.”

He helped Kazuma sit up, then placed a small tray on his lap. The food on his plate seemed like some kind of roasted meat and cooked vegetables. He couldn’t tell exactly what was wrong with it, only that it looked… wrong.

“I know it doesn’t look appetizing,” said Barok, probably noticing his hesitance. “But try to eat. It will help you recover your strength.”

“What about you?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Kazuma didn’t insist on the subject. He looked at his meal, pondering if he was hungry enough to try it—yes, he was.

He took a few careful bites. The meat was charred outside, and raw on the inside; the vegetables were overcooked to the point of feeling like mush, and had no seasoning at all. He would be lying if he said it tasted good, but it made that sickness slowly fade, and that was more than enough.

The tea, however, was nothing but good. Not too strong, but with a distinctive flavor… It seemed to warm up his entire body. He couldn’t hold back a slight smile. “Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” said the man. “I’m simply repaying you for your aid.”

With his mind now clearer, Kazuma couldn’t help but think about that brief confrontation. “Why were those men after you?”

The man didn’t answer, looking at him with a distant gaze, as if lost in thought.

“Is something wrong?” asked Kazuma.

That seemed to bring him back to the present. “Forgive me.” He made a brief pause. “You just… remind me of someone I knew.”

The comment intrigued Kazuma. “Who?”

“An old friend, long departed.” Barok shook his head, making it clear that he didn’t plan to explain it any further. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

“That’s good.”

Kazuma observed him for a while, curiosity taking his mind. “What’s your name?”

The man widened his eyes, surprised. “Forgive my rudeness. I’m Barok van Zieks.” He looked away. “I’m not used to having visitors, so I forgot my manners.”

“Barok…” Kazuma repeated.

A faint smile took Barok’s lips, and he tried to hide it by looking the other way. “I’ll let you rest for now.”

Kazuma nodded. Barok took the tray from his lap, then walked to the door, stopping in front of it. He glanced at Kazuma over his shoulder. “I’ll be in the room next door, so call me if you need anything.”

He left the bedroom before Kazuma could answer.

Kazuma knew he had no reason to stay in that place after recovering his health and strength. Yet, he didn’t touch that subject for the following days, nor did Barok.

It took him around a week to make a full recovery, but only half that time for him to leave the bed and start preparing his own meals with the ingredients Barok brought to him—to which Barok profusely apologized, while Kazuma tried to reassure him that he simply didn’t want to give him any extra trouble.

Weirdly, Kazuma never saw that man eat. He didn’t question it, but it made him wonder if there was something… different about Barok—not that it would make things any different… That man had been nothing but kind to him, and that was all that mattered to Kazuma.

He woke up in the middle of that night for no apparent reason. Maybe he was getting used to Barok’s sleeping patterns, since the man spent the entire night awake. Kazuma left the bedroom, making his way outside. He hadn’t spent much time out there, mostly because of the cold weather. That time, however, he didn’t go back inside, walking to the back of the estate without haste.

He found Barok there, wearing a cloak on his back while tending to a shrub of dark purple roses, which carried a slightly spicy fragrance. It didn’t take long for him to notice Kazuma’s presence, looking in his direction. “Isn’t it late for you to be wandering about?”

Despite those words, there was some amusement in his voice. Kazuma smiled. “I don’t know… Isn’t it late for gardening?”

“Isn’t it wiser to do it now, than under the scalding sun?”

He has to have the last word, doesn’t he?

“I guess so,” Kazuma shrugged lightly, approaching Barok. He looked at those flowers, intrigued. “I don’t think I’ve seen roses this color before.”

“They’re Midnight Blue roses,” Barok explained. “My sister-in-law personally cultivated them.” He made a pause, showing a slight, fond smile. “She always had a way with flowers.”

Something in his tone weighed in Kazuma’s chest. “Where is she?”

Barok didn’t answer for a while, looking at those roses with a thoughtful expression. Carefully, he cut two of them from the shrub. “Would you mind accompanying me?”

“Sure.”

Kazuma followed him to the farther end of that garden. As they got closer, he could already see what Barok meant to show him. His curiosity soon faded, giving place to a heavy feeling.

Graves. At least a dozen of them.

Kazuma didn’t know what to say, but Barok didn’t wait for his words, crouching in front of those graves, placing the roses over two of them, staying like that for a moment.

“I didn’t always live alone in this place,” he said as he stood up. “But it has been a long while since… Well, I suppose you can imagine it.”

Of course… The size of that mansion, the number of bedrooms… It all made more sense now. Kazuma looked at him, feeling an uncomfortable weight in his stomach. “What happened?”

Barok didn’t answer immediately, as if struggling with the words. “We tried to do something good.” He lowered his voice to a mutter. “But others weren’t ready to accept it.”

The evasiveness of that response made Kazuma realize that, maybe, he was overstepping Barok’s boundaries. “Would you rather not talk about it?”

“Forgive me. It is still a painful subject.” Barok sighed. “Despite me being the one who started it…”

“It’s alright.”

Neither of them spoke for a long while. Kazuma observed Barok’s face, his gaze still on those graves, his mind seeming far from there. Without thinking much, he placed a hand on Barok’s back.

“I apologize for bringing you to this gloomy place,” said Barok, finally.

Kazuma shook his head. “Thank you for telling me.”

“We should go back now,” said Barok. “I wasn’t finished with the gardening yet.”

Kazuma thought briefly. “Want me to help you?”

The question seemed to surprise Barok. Soon, however, a soft smile took his lips. “Of course.”

They made their way back without haste. Kazuma looked around, paying more attention to all those flowers: Barok clearly took good care of them. He patiently showed Kazuma what to do, and Kazuma did his best to follow his instructions, not wanting to accidentally ruin something Barok held so dear.

“You’re shivering,” Barok observed.

Before Kazuma could answer, Barok took off his cloak, placing it over Kazuma’s shoulders.

“Won’t you be cold like this?” asked Kazuma.

“I’m used to it.”

“I see.” Kazuma smiled. “Thank you.”

Barok looked at him in silence for a few seconds. “You are the first company I’ve had in many years.” He closed his eyes with a melancholic expression. “It saddens me to think you might leave soon.”

Hearing those words made Kazuma realize how lonely that man must have felt, living on his own in that place, full of memories from a happier time. Before he could stop himself, the words escaped his lips. “Can I stay a little longer, then?”

Barok opened his mouth, but didn’t answer. He lowered his gaze, seeming conflicted. Then, as if that moment of hesitation never happened, he nodded. “For as long as you’d like.”

The response was reassuring; yet, Kazuma couldn’t help but feel a little restless inside—if because of those graves or Barok’s clear uneasiness, he still couldn’t tell.

The days passed calmly, and soon Kazuma became used to his life with Barok. That man didn’t talk much in the beginning, but spent most of the time in the same room as Kazuma, quietly enjoying the company. With time, the awkwardness between them started to fade, enough for their conversations to last longer, with fewer hesitant pauses and more genuine reactions.

Barok was considerate and gentle… Yet, from time to time, his expression seemed to darken with what Kazuma believed to be worry. The reason, however, he couldn’t tell for sure.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he wasn’t human—that much had become clear for Kazuma already. But he never mentioned it: if Barok didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t try to force the subject either.

Kazuma woke up to a loud noise that day. It was bright outside… Usually, Barok would still be sleeping at that hour. Soon, more noises came from the lower floor, and among them were unknown voices. Kazuma jumped out of the bed, going outside of the bedroom. As soon as he reached the stairs, he could see the battle that was taking place near the mansion’s entrance: Barok on one side, armed with a sword; around ten men on the other, carrying a variety of silver weapons.

Before Kazuma could even react to that scene, Barok glanced in his direction, slightly wide-eyed. “Kazuma… Go back! Find a place to hide!”

As if he could… He dashed downstairs, tackling one of those men, making him fall and grabbing his mace in the process. It felt too heavy in his hands, but not enough to stop him from using it against a second assailant who approached him. The feeling of bones breaking under the heavy weapon was unpleasant but not unfamiliar, and Kazuma wondered once again how he learned to use weapons like that.

His opponent fell to the floor, dropping his weapon. A sword… That felt more familiar. He turned around, slicing another man as he raised his heavy axe. Easy… Frighteningly so. He had certainly faced stronger opponents at some point… Strong like…

No. It didn’t matter. It was in the past, possibly lost forever. The only thing he should worry about now was to assure that he and Barok survived that confrontation.

Kazuma gritted his teeth, bringing all his senses to that battle. Next to him, Barok fought with equal—if not greater—ferocity, bringing his enemies down one after the other. Soon, there was no living creature inside that mansion but the two of them—exhausted and covered in blood, but still standing.

Kazuma let go of the sword, glancing at those bodies around them with a feeling he couldn’t name. His gaze fell upon Barok, who avoided looking at him, a shadow covering his expression.

“I hoped you wouldn’t have to see this,” muttered Barok.

Kazuma quickly approached him, looking at his face. “Are you hurt?”

Barok simply looked at him for a moment, as if taken aback by the question. “No… I’m fine.” He made a pause. “What about you?”

But Kazuma’s mind barely registered that question, his attention grabbed by a deep cut on Barok’s forearm. “Your arm… Wait here.”

He went to the cabinet where Barok kept his medical supplies, coming back with a few in his arms. He reached for Barok’s injured arm, carefully examining it: it wasn’t bleeding… Instead, it had a faint purplish color.

“Was the weapon poisoned?” Kazuma asked.

“No…” Barok hesitated, then let out a tired sigh. “Something close to it, I suppose.”

Kazuma raised his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“My body doesn’t react well to silver.”

“Silver?”

That comment seemed to almost awaken something in Kazuma’s mind, only for it to fade soon after.

“Leave it,” said Barok. “It’ll heal by itself with time.”

“Let me at least cover it properly.”

Barok didn’t protest, and Kazuma proceeded to carefully cover that wound with clean bandages. As he did, however, the questions came back to his mind.

“Who were those people?” he asked. “Why did they attack you?”

Barok looked away. “It’s a complicated story.”

He was clearly trying to avoid that subject. Usually, Kazuma would respect it and step back, but… How could he pretend that nothing had happened, especially when the strong smell of blood still filled the entire place?

“Barok…” said Kazuma in a cautious tone. “I know there are things you don’t want to talk about, but… It’s the second time I see people trying to kill you.”

Barok took a step back, covering his face with a hand. “Forgive me… I knew it was a mistake to allow you to stay. I never meant to put you in danger.”

“That’s not…” Kazuma lowered his gaze, his heart clenching. “Do you think that’s what I’m worried about? I’m worried about you… Even if you told me to go now, I wouldn’t be able to leave you alone!” He approached Barok, placing a hand on his arm before speaking in a lower voice. “Barok… What’s happening?”

Barok hesitated, then spoke without looking at Kazuma. “If I told you I’m not human… What would you think?”

Kazuma took a deep breath. “I… wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Oh…?”

“You don’t eat, you avoid the sunlight… You faced all those men without even getting out of breath.” Kazuma chose not to mention the smudge of blood on his lips. “If anything, it would be hard not to notice.”

Barok didn’t say anything for a long while. “I see.”

“It doesn’t matter what you are,” Kazuma proceeded. “You helped me when I needed it. You…” He lowered his voice. “You’re someone important to me.”

“Kazuma…”

“You can keep your secrets if you want. But… Even if you share them with me, it won’t change anything.”

For a while, neither of them spoke another word.

“Is that true?” Barok asked, finally.

Kazuma nodded. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“I do.”

Then, in the middle of that hell they created, Barok finally opened up to him. Kazuma’s suspicions proved to be true: he was a vampire… Even without his memories, Kazuma knew about them. Creatures of the night, cursed by an endless thirst for blood. Evil beings… Natural killers without a shard of emotion in their atrophied hearts.

So different from everything Barok was.

After telling him the truth, Barok seemed relieved; and, true to his word, Kazuma didn’t treat him differently, even as he watched Barok feast on the blood of his opponents. It wasn’t a pleasant thing to witness, much less to be part of, and the thought of having to drink someone’s blood to survive haunted his nightmares for the following days.

Yet, he stayed by Barok’s side: fighting his enemies, tending to his garden, or simply enjoying his pleasant company. The warmth of their bond far exceeded any disturbing dreams he could have, or the feeling of repulsion deep inside his stomach whenever he saw Barok’s fangs pierce someone’s flesh.

It was frightening how used he became to it as the months passed. Before every fight, Barok offered his opponents a warning and a chance to leave; but, more often than not, his words fell upon deaf ears. With every new attack, it became clearer that those people would kill them without any mercy if given the chance, so Kazuma wasn’t willing to be merciful in return—not if it meant betting his life and Barok’s on it.

Kazuma was reading in his bedroom that evening, when the sound of Barok knocking on the door called his attention.

“Kazuma?” said Barok. “May I come in?”

“Sure.”

Barok walked inside, carrying a small vase with a colorful flower arrangement. “I brought this to you. I thought they would liven up the place a little.”

Kazuma smiled: those small gestures were the ones that got to him the most. He wasn’t in love with Barok, and yet, he felt that he could fall for him—a little bit more with each passing day.

Unlike the previous ones, those attackers came in the middle of the night. It seemed like a foolish choice at first, considering who their opponent was, but it didn’t take long for him to realize that something was wrong. They were different from the others.

A glance at the pointy fangs revealed by a sneer gave Kazuma his answer: those weren’t hunters, but vampires. They were in lower numbers, but made up for it with greater speed and strength. Barok usually trusted Kazuma to fight on his own, but that time he stayed close to him, trying to guard him against their opponents. Kazuma wished he could say he didn’t need the help, but… he probably would have died if he was alone.

It wasn’t easy, but the two of them survived that battle. Thanks to Barok, Kazuma wasn’t badly injured, unlike the man himself. The lack of silver weapons meant his wounds would heal more quickly, but their number and severity were also much greater. Kazuma helped him walk to his bedroom, offering his shoulder as support. Barok sat on his bed, and Kazuma did the same beside him.

“As you can see, my own kind has turned against me,” said Barok. “I try to live a quiet existence in this place, but it’s not enough to quell their rage.”

Kazuma didn’t speak for a while. That wasn’t good… He could fight against other humans, or even against a vampire… But if entire groups of vampires attacked them again…

He tried not to think about it at the moment, meeting Barok’s gaze. “Why do they want to kill you?”

It was Barok’s turn to go quiet, as if struggling to find the words. “The van Zieks’ name was dishonored a long time ago. My head would be like a trophy to them.”

“A trophy?” Kazuma furrowed his brow. “That’s the only reason?”

“They don’t need any more than that.”

Kazuma could do nothing but look at him for a long while. “This isn’t the first time they attack you, is it?”

“No,” said Barok. “It’s a rare occurrence, but… This wasn’t the first time.”

As I thought… Kazuma’s chest tightened. “Why don’t you leave this place?”

“I can’t.” Barok showed a sad smile. “This is the only connection I still have to the ones I once held dear. If I left it, I would have nothing else worth fighting for.”

“I see…”

Kazuma wanted to find something else to say, but it wasn’t easy. He had no memories, no people dear to him who he missed… Still, it was difficult not to feel Barok’s pain whenever he mentioned the ones he lost. As much as he wanted to insist for them to leave and prioritize their own lives, he simply couldn’t bring himself to.

Before he could speak again, Barok brought a hand to his face, closing his eyes with a small groan. Kazuma leaned closer to him, worried. “Barok… Are you alright?”

“Forgive me…” Barok muttered in a weak voice. “I’ve used too much of my strength today, and it has been a while since I’ve last fed on the blood of the living.”

Oh… Of course. Kazuma lowered his gaze, considering the situation briefly. The solution, however, was clear. “You can have my blood.”

Barok stared at him, his expression darkening. “No.”

“I don’t mind it,” Kazuma insisted. “It’ll make you feel better, won’t it?”

Barok shook his head. “I won’t do it.”

“Why not?” Kazuma furrowed his brow, slightly hesitant. “You don’t need to kill me, do you?”

“No, but…”

Oh, good… “It’s alright, then.”

Kazuma reached for the buttons of his shirt, undoing the first few, pulling the fabric away from his neck. Barok watched him for a moment, then turned his face away, covering his mouth with a hand. “Stop tempting me… I can barely restrain myself.”

How difficult can this man be…? It wasn’t like Kazuma was happy about the idea either, but… Barok was suffering, wasn’t he?

“Take at least a little,” said Kazuma. “So you’ll feel better.”

Barok didn’t answer, avoiding Kazuma’s gaze. Kazuma sighed, exasperated: it was useless to argue with that man… He had already given Barok permission, so what else did he need?

Another small, pained twitch of Barok’s face was what made Kazuma finally act. He stood up briefly, first getting in front of Barok, then moving closer until he was straddling his lap. For a moment, Barok didn’t react, simply staring at him, wide-eyed. Slowly, he raised his hands, hesitating before placing one of them on Kazuma’s back, bringing the other to the side of his neck. His fingers lightly trailed down Kazuma’s skin, from his chin to his shoulder. He then shut his eyes, moving his hand away.

So, instead, Kazuma was the one to move closer, placing a hand at the back of Barok’s head, gently pulling him toward the crook of his neck. “It’s alright,” he whispered.

Barok stayed still, not moving forward nor pushing Kazuma away. Finally, his lips touched Kazuma’s skin, lingering there for what felt like a long time. He opened his mouth, and Kazuma prepared himself for what was to come moments before he felt the sharp fangs on his neck.

It wasn’t as painful as he thought it would be… The hot sensation on his neck was only intensified by the coldness that slowly spread throughout his body. Still, it was frightening to feel the strength slowly leave him… He shut his eyes, clinging to Barok’s clothes in an attempt to control that sudden wave of anxiety.

He already felt light-headed when Barok finally moved away. He looked at Kazuma’s face with clear concern, cupping his cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“A little dizzy,” said Kazuma. “But it didn’t hurt as much as I thought.”

Kazuma tried to keep his tough facade, but his entire body was shaking, feeling cold and weak. Barok certainly noticed it, carefully helping him lie down. He brought a hand to Kazuma’s head, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “Forgive me.”

“I told you… it’s alright.”

Barok nodded slowly, the somber expression still on his face. “You should rest now. I’ll provide something for you to eat.”

Before he could stand up, Kazuma held his wrist. He wasn’t sure of what he wanted to say—or even if he wanted to say anything. Barok looked at him for a moment, then showed a small, fond smile. He leaned forward, placing a kiss on Kazuma’s forehead.

“Rest,” he whispered.

This time, Kazuma didn’t protest.

Kazuma didn’t do much other than sleep for the rest of that day and the next, his rest only interrupted when Barok insisted for him to eat something. When he woke up on the following evening, still sluggish, Barok was sitting on the mattress beside him. Noticing the small movement, Barok looked at him, carefully touching his cheek.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked.

Kazuma took a few seconds to answer. It would be a lie to say that he felt great, but the food and rest had made a huge difference. “Much better.”

“Good,” said Barok. “Is there anything you need?”

“Not really.”

“Very well.” Barok moved his hand away. “Let me know if there’s any problem.”

He seemed about to stand up, so Kazuma reached for his forearm, placing a hand on it. “Can you stay here?”

Kazuma’s request seemed to leave Barok restless. “I suppose…” He made a small, reluctant pause. “Kazuma, there’s something we must talk about.”

Something in his tone worried Kazuma. He sat up, looking Barok in the eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Barok took a few seconds to answer, as if trying to find the words. “I feel like I’ve crossed a line I shouldn’t have when I drank your blood.”

That answer caught Kazuma by surprise. “Why? I’m the one who offered it.”

“And I gave in, despite knowing that I shouldn’t,” said Barok in a serious voice. “I took your blood once, but what if I’m thirsty again tomorrow? Will you simply allow me to do it again?”

“If it’s something you need and I can give, why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s not so simple,” Barok proceeded. “My kind… For centuries we’ve preyed on humans without a second thought. We saw them as inferior… No more than cattle.” He made a pause, lowering his gaze. “When you see it this way, it’s not surprising that your kind despises us so much.”

Kazuma furrowed his brow, somewhat bothered by where that conversation was going. “And what are you trying to say?”

“I don’t want our relationship to become something like that,” said Barok. “I don’t want to treat you like… Like your life is worth less than mine.”

That wasn’t easy to hear. Living with Barok for all that time made their different races feel like something… small—almost irrelevant when compared to everything else. But those words made him realize that, maybe, Barok didn’t share that feeling.

Kazuma’s chest felt heavy, but he managed to keep a calm expression as he thought of what to say. “Barok… How do you see me?”

Barok looked at him, seeming lost. “Pardon?”

“What am I to you?” asked Kazuma. “A human? A friend? Or something else?”

“You…” Barok made a brief pause. “You’re someone invaluable to me.”

“And, after drinking my blood… Did anything change?”

“No…” Carefully, Barok caressed Kazuma’s cheek with his fingertips. “I simply don’t want to hurt you.”

Kazuma reached for Barok’s hand, bringing it to his lips, kissing his palm. “You never did.”

“That isn’t true…” Barok moved his hand away. “Every time someone comes after me, you risk your life for my sake. And now, you’ve willingly given me your blood… The last thing I wanted was to hurt you, but I keep allowing it to happen, time and time again.” He shook his head, lowering his voice. “I must put a stop to this before it’s too late.”

Kazuma’s chest tightened. “What do you mean by that…?”

“I should have told you to leave back then, once your wounds were healed. But I became accustomed to the company, so…” A brief pause. “Even if I knew it was the right choice, I still couldn’t ask you to go.”

Kazuma simply looked at him for a while, unsure of how to respond. “Are you doing it now?”

“Yes,” said Barok. “Before the worst happens… I need you to be safe.”

Neither of them spoke for the following seconds, but the silence seemed to last an eternity.

“I don’t want to leave,” said Kazuma, finally. “I want to stay here with you.”

“But you won’t be safe here,” Barok insisted. “Safe, or happy. You should be living under the sun, with other humans—” A small, sad smile took his lips. “—not alone with a grieving vampire in this dreary place.”

“How can I leave knowing that others will come after you? And that you’ll be alone when it happens.” Kazuma took a deep breath, lowering his voice. “I know I’m not as strong as you, but I can’t leave you here, on your own.”

“You should put your wishes before mine.”

“I told you, I want to stay here.”

“Kazuma, please…” Barok muttered. “You must understand, I cannot lose you too.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t understand…” Kazuma reached for Barok’s hands, holding both between his. “I had nothing before I met you. You gave me a home…” He made a small pause. “You, this place… I just want to protect both.”

Barok observed their hands for a moment. “You shouldn’t.” Once again, he moved away from that touch. “I thought I could keep you safe from all this… Make you happy, somehow. But now I see it was nothing but a foolish hope.”

Kazuma didn’t answer for a while, thinking about his words. “What about you? Would you be happy if I left?”

“No,” Barok admitted. “But I would be at peace.”

That was all Kazuma needed to hear. “Forgive me, then… But I won’t grant you the peace you wish for.” He reached for Barok’s face, cupping it with both hands, looking into his eyes. “I want to stay with you. Until the end, no matter what it is.”

Barok lowered his gaze. “Can I change your mind?”

“No.”

“I feared this would be your choice.” Barok pressed his lips into a line, seeming hesitant to continue. “Kazuma… Have you considered that I could turn you into a vampire as well?”

The question made Kazuma widen his eyes. Without thinking, he moved his hands away, staring at him. “Are you suggesting…?

Barok nodded. “You’d be much stronger and resilient. You’d survive confrontations that would kill a human… Even one as capable as yourself.”

That suggestion was enough to make something turn uncomfortably inside Kazuma. No, not that… Anything but that. “I…” He averted his gaze, moving slightly away from Barok. “Sorry, but I don’t…”

He stopped talking. Kazuma couldn’t tell the reason why he was so against the idea, but it was enough to fill his entire body with a feeling of dread.

“I understand.”

Barok’s simple answer made Kazuma look again at him, cautious. “You won’t insist?”

“No,” said Barok. “If that’s your answer, I’ll respect it.”

His understanding tone was reassuring, and helped Kazuma calm down. He offered Barok a slight smile. “Thank you.”

Barok returned the smile, but there were still hints of concern in his expression—he clearly hoped for a different answer. It wasn’t like Kazuma didn’t understand his worries… More than once, he was injured in those battles, and—unlike Barok—his wounds healed slowly. Facing that group of vampires only made such a difference even more evident.

A bitter feeling took his chest: the time he spent with Barok kept those thoughts out of his mind, but it was undeniable how different the two of them were: their races, their bodies, their needs… Kazuma could pretend the thought of never leaving that place didn’t bother him, or that part of him wasn’t desperate to find out about his own past, or that he wasn’t terrified of the day when their luck would finally run out and their enemies would prevail—or that, even if they survived one year after another, his body wouldn’t inevitably grow weaker with time, until everything that made him who he was faded away. He already knew that, no matter what happened in the future, there wouldn’t be a happy ending waiting for them.

Yet, like Barok, he couldn’t bring himself to put an end to it.

Kazuma moved closer to Barok, hugging him, leaning in his direction until his head was resting against his chest. Barok brought a hand to Kazuma’s head, only to move it away instants later.

“You shouldn’t do this,” he whispered.

“Why not?” asked Kazuma.

“It makes me yearn for something I know I can’t have.”

Those words made Kazuma move slightly away, looking at Barok. “Who said you can’t?”

Barok didn’t answer for a while, simply looking at Kazuma with a conflicted expression. “Why must you keep tempting me…?”

Kazuma didn’t try to argue, acting before he could lose his courage. He placed a hand on Barok’s cheek, meeting his gaze briefly before closing his eyes, leaning in his direction.

Barok placed his hands on Kazuma’s shoulders, stopping him. “Don’t… It would be better for you to—” He interrupted himself, clicking his tongue. “Why do I still try…?”

Before Kazuma could say anything, Barok embraced him, kissing his lips—impatient, but still careful… As expected of him. Kazuma couldn’t hold back a slight smile as he brought his hand to the back of Barok’s head, caressing his hair, allowing himself to clear his mind of anything other than those touches he had craved for so long.

For two years, everything was fine. Not perfect, of course… Sometimes, they still faced invaders, who seemed to grow in numbers and strength with each defeat; and, sometimes, a strong feeling of melancholy overcame Kazuma, mostly when he felt he was close to remembering something about himself, only for the memories to drift away, just out of his reach.

Still, despite everything, Kazuma was happy living with Barok, and he knew Barok felt the same way. The companionship and affection they shared were enough to make the difficult times easier to bear, and the happy ones much sweeter.

After surviving so many battles, Kazuma came to think, foolishly, that maybe their luck wouldn’t end—that no matter what happened, as long as they had each other, everything would be fine.

That battle didn’t seem to be any different… Just another group of vampire hunters. The two of them were greatly outnumbered, but had faced worse odds before.

In no more than a few minutes, it seemed to be over. Kazuma looked at Barok, concerned. “Are you hurt?”

“Only a few light wounds,” said Barok. “I’ll be better once I have some blood.”

Kazuma nodded. He sheathed his sword, turning away from Barok—even after all that time, he’d still rather not watch as he fed on his fallen opponents. Instead, he started to gather those silver weapons, so Barok wouldn’t need to touch them when he got rid of the bodies.

One thing that never changed since he started living there was that, after giving his enemies a single chance to leave, Barok wouldn’t let any of them escape that place alive. Maybe he was tired that day… Maybe his senses weren’t as sharp as usual, because, from among the dead, a man stood up, wounded and weak, but still alive. Kazuma noticed him through the corner of his eye before Barok did—silver sword in hand, a murderous look on his face.

He should be dead… His wounds were many and deep, but his rage still made him move, dashing toward Barok with his blade raised. Kazuma’s blood froze: Barok was much stronger than him… He could survive most things that would end Kazuma’s life. He knew it, and yet…

He moved without thinking, reaching Barok an instant before that man; he had no time to draw his sword, so he stood between Barok and that weapon.

The silver blade pierced his stomach. His eyes met the man’s for an instant before his opponent fell to the ground, his hand still tightly gripping the sword, pulling it out of Kazuma’s body. Blood poured from his wound. Kazuma tried to stay on his feet, but his legs faltered.

“Kazuma!”

Barok held him before he could fall. Kazuma looked at him, but his vision was quickly darkening. He couldn’t breathe… When he tried, he choked on his own blood.

“Kazuma, don’t… Please, stay with me…!”

Barok’s desperate voice hurt more than anything else. He’ll be alone again… That thought was what made Kazuma fight so ferociously against the urge to close his eyes and let everything fade.

Still, despite his efforts, it proved to be much stronger than him in the end.

He didn’t think she would die so young, so he never got to properly say goodbye. He woke up to her lying there, pale and motionless like a porcelain doll. He couldn’t cry… He could barely think. It hurt, but he couldn’t react in any way. People called him cold… Maybe they were right.

He was on a ship… Men with sharp fangs attacked, killing everyone in their way. The floor was stained with blood and entrails… Kazuma tried to keep some of them safe, but… Something grabbed him from behind… He tried to fight, and then… he fell…

Suffocating… dark… painful…

“Kazuma, listen…” The tall man with long black hair looked at him with a melancholic smile on his face. “There is something very important that I must do. I want you to have this… No, don’t read it yet. Save it for after I leave. You know I love you and your mother above everything else, right? I’ll do anything so you don’t need to go through any pain again. I’m sorry, I got lost in thought… Take care of your mother while I’m away. And, son…”

That single line on a stained piece of paper flashed before him: “I don’t ask for your forgiveness, only that you don’t follow my steps.”

Kazuma opened his eyes, jolting up with a scream stuck in his throat. His body felt strong, but empty at the same time. Cold… His senses were way too sharp… Too many sounds… Too many things around him… Too much of everything.

He was thirsty… In a way he had never felt before.

“Kazuma!” Barok was close to him, holding Kazuma in his arms, looking at him with a worried expression. “I thought I was too late…”

Too late…?

Instinctively, Kazuma brought a hand to the wound in his stomach. It still burned painfully, but wasn’t bleeding anymore. There was an unfamiliar taste in his mouth, almost sweet.

The world seemed to crumble beneath him as the pieces finally fell into place. “What did you do to me?”

A shadow of guilt covered Barok’s face. “I’m sorry… It was the only way to save you.”

“Save…?”

It was as he feared. No, this can’t be… He should have died from that wound. I can’t be a… If he was still alive, then…

No… This is the last thing I wanted. The years of training came back to his mind… The countless ways he was taught to end his own life if something like that ever happened… Kill yourself before the endless thirst overcomes you… If it does, it’ll be too late.

“Kazuma, calm down.” Barok gently squeezed his shoulder, making Kazuma look at him. “It’s difficult at first, but you will—”

“Why did you turn me?” Kazuma interrupted him. “You knew I didn’t want to…” His voice failed for a moment. “I don’t want to be like this!”

Barok opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything, lowering his gaze. For the first time, Kazuma resented him. Years of being trained to hate vampires… To kill any of them on sight. Years of hearing frightening and heartbreaking stories from survivors of vampire attacks, who watched all their loved ones die in front of them. Years of hate… Years of fear… Years of wanting nothing but revenge… His entire life, now clashing with everything he knew about that man in front of him… What he hoped he knew.

No, it hadn’t all been a lie… But what if it was? It couldn’t be, he knew Barok. But do I, really?

“I…” Kazuma’s voice cracked. “I came here to kill you.”

Barok stayed silent for a long while. “I see… You’ve recovered your memories, then.”

Why didn’t he sound surprised? What does he know…? What is he hiding…?

Kazuma moved away from Barok, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword as he stood up. “My father…” He muttered. “They said he betrayed us… Left our clan to fight alongside a vampire. But it’s a lie… He was killed. Killed by someone like you.”

“Kazuma…”

“Was it you…?” he asked. “Did you kill him?”

Barok stayed silent, and a mixture of dread and rage filled Kazuma’s chest.

“Why aren’t you saying anything…?” He yelled. “Just say something!”

Barok raised his eyes, looking at Kazuma. “I expected you to understand by now… Why the bond between a vampire and a human isn’t as impossible as it initially sounds.” He made a pause, lowering his voice. “I was once against it as well… Klint’s human friend. Genshin Asogi.”

Kazuma’s heart jumped. “Genshin…?”

Barok nodded. “You look much like him. I considered the possibility, especially after seeing you fight so bravely for my sake… but told myself it would be too much of a coincidence.”

“You knew him…”

“Only briefly,” said Barok. “He… Klint and Genshin believed vampires and humans could form an accord of peace. They tried to start a change that neither of our people was ready for.” He made a small, heavy pause. “And we have paid the bitter price for it.”

“What happened?”

“Klint invited a few influent vampire clans to this place that day, to offer them a proposal,” Barok explained. “When they heard it, they named him…” He briefly shook his head. “All of us as traitors. Klint and your father fought together to the very end.” His voice trembled. “I was the only one left alive. Not on purpose, I’m certain… A mistake they try to fix to this day.”

Kazuma stayed silent. He knew Barok wasn’t lying, and yet, it was hard to believe.

“Kazuma…” Barok took a small step in his direction. “Before you came, I thought it was my destiny to die alone, defending this place I once called my home. But now, even if you hate me, I still want you to stay by my side.”

“How can you say something like that…?” Kazuma gritted his teeth. “How can you… after what you did…”

“I cannot ask for your forgiveness after turning you against your will,” Barok proceeded. “I know it was a selfish decision, but… I couldn’t bear to watch someone I love die in my arms again.” He closed his eyes. “I was terrified of losing you. I still am.”

Kazuma couldn’t answer: his head was a mess, as if the memories of two different people had suddenly merged together, making it hard for him to think clearly.

“I’ll do everything I can to compensate you…” Barok continued. “Anything. If you decide to leave, I won’t stop you. Just, please…” He raised his eyes, meeting Kazuma’s gaze with a faint smile. “Keep living.”

His words made Kazuma’s anger slowly melt away. Part of him—an old one, deeply engraved into his mind—told him Barok was lying, only waiting for a chance to betray him, as vampires always did in those countless stories he heard about. Yet, something stronger kept those old voices from taking over.

He knew Barok—his kindness, his quiet concern, his dedication to the things important to him… That was the man he learned to love—and still loved.

But everything felt wrong… His mind, his body, that intense thirst… It hurt… It was terrifying… It made him feel betrayed, despite knowing that Barok had only tried to save him; he was glad to be alive, at the same time that a deep despair grew in his chest, making him wish that he was dead. All those feelings clashed inside him at the same time—it was too much… Too much to take in at once. Please, just tell me this gets better… Tell me everything will be fine…

Even if it’s a lie, please…

“Barok…”

Before Kazuma could say anything, Barok grabbed him by the shoulder, shoving him to the side. The sound of glass shattering and something sharp cutting the wind filled his ears. He looked at Barok, seeing his body slowly fall back, a thin, metallic projectile sticking out of his chest.

The entire world went still for a second.

“Barok!”

Kazuma dashed in his direction, crouching by his side. Barok’s eyes were closed, he didn’t move… Pale and completely motionless, just like a…

He pushed those thoughts away, grabbing that projectile, only to immediately have to let go, the skin of his palms burning. It took him a moment to understand the reason: silver. Kazuma gritted his teeth, grabbing it once again, trying to ignore the pain as he pulled it out with all his strength.

He let the projectile fall on the ground, examining Barok’s wound. The silver didn’t stay in it for long, but it already left signs of its poisoning: the skin around the wound had a dark purplish tone associated with decay, with dark veins spreading out of it. It wasn’t regenerating.

No, no, no…

Kazuma’s throat closed. “Barok, please…”

There was no answer. What should he do? Blood… Of course, Barok needed blood…

The sound of approaching steps grabbed his attention. “God…” said an unfamiliar voice. “What happened here…?”

“Looks like we were lucky…” answered another. “Poor bastards…”

Kazuma looked toward the door, seeing a small group of hunters waking inside—one of them carrying a silver crossbow. As soon as their eyes fell upon him, they stopped walking, shocked.

“They said there was only one vampire!” said a man.

The one with the crossbow clicked his tongue. “Doesn’t matter… We can ask for a better reward after we’re done.”

A reward… Was that the reason why they kept coming after them? Rewards, revenge, pride… Was that all? Was that why…?

“He never wanted to fight you…” Kazuma muttered. “He just wanted to live in peace here. Why couldn’t you have left us alone…?”

The man raised his crossbow, and Kazuma simply stared back at him for a few seconds. Suddenly, his mind was much clearer, his senses focused, his body seeming lighter than ever before…

Everything was cold… Just like on the day his mother died.

He stood up, and the man fired. Kazuma easily avoided the projectile, darting in his direction, grabbing him by the throat, crushing it with close to no effort. Before his companions could react, Kazuma reached for his sword, burying it in the chest of a second man. He let out a gurgling sound before Kazuma pulled the blade back, turning his body around, slicing the neck of another hunter.

He felt nothing… Nothing but that cold, blind rage. So, he didn’t stop… Not until they were all on the ground. Only then did the rage subside.

He looked toward Barok, and everything in his mind was replaced by the urgency of what he needed to do. Barok said he was weak after that battle… Not only that, but he also gave his blood to Kazuma… Why did he have to do that?

Kazuma grabbed one of those fallen men, dragging him to where Barok was lying. He could tell Barok wasn’t dead… Not yet, at least. He could still do something… He could still…

“Barok…” Kazuma crouched beside him. “You’ll be fine… Here…”

He cut the man’s wrist, allowing his blood to drip into Barok’s mouth. It wasn’t enough… He brought the others, repeating that process, hoping for a reaction that never came.

“Answer me…” he muttered. “Please… Say something.”

Nothing.

“Please…”

Not knowing what else to do, Kazuma lay on the floor beside Barok, holding his body in a tight embrace. The half-healed wound in his body burned; his head was a storm of old memories and conflicting beliefs. His throat closed, his chest tightened. He needed to cry, but the tears didn’t come.

So, as every grief and every regret filled him at once, he held on to Barok, hoping that it had all been nothing but a terrible dream.

From time to time, Kazuma brought fresh flowers to those graves, wondering which of them belonged to his father.

I don’t ask for your forgiveness, only that you don’t follow my steps.

He probably knew… His father knew that he wouldn’t be coming back alive, but not for the reasons Kazuma had always believed… He was ready to die for that friendship he had formed—for a possible future of peace between their races.

He wished he could have understood earlier… That his parting words to Barok hadn’t been such cruel ones.

No, those wouldn’t be his last words to him. There was still life in Barok… Faint, like a fickle flame he struggled to keep burning. After every new failed attack, Kazuma brought fresh blood to him, hoping it would keep postponing the inevitable.

Not inevitable… He’s still alive. He’ll be fine… How many times had he repeated those words to himself as the days passed by?

Enough for him to start believing them.

Kazuma entered Barok’s bedroom that evening, carrying a small vase of flowers. He sat on the border of the mattress, looking at Barok’s face: peaceful, as if he was just sleeping.

Looking at him hurt, but he managed to show a faint smile. “Are you feeling well today?” He asked, not expecting a response. “I’ve tried to tend to the garden, but I’m not as good as you at it… I hope I don’t kill your flowers by accident.” He raised the vase in his hands. “Here, I’ve brought you this. The roses are all blooming. I… I wish you could see it.”

The smile faded from his face. He placed the vase on the bedside table, aware of how meaningless that gesture was. Still, he needed to do those small things… If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to keep going.

He still wasn’t used to being a vampire—and part of him doubted he ever would. Eating wasn’t pleasurable anymore, and the once warm sunlight now burned his skin. One of the few pleasures he still had was when he prepared a cup of tea with the fresh herbs from the garden—it made him forget, even if for a short while, that his humanity was gone.

He hated that part of him still resented Barok for turning him into a vampire… He wished he could feel nothing but affection and gratitude for that man, but he couldn’t… From the moment they chose to stay together, Kazuma was prepared to be the one who would die first, not to be left alone in that big, empty place, for what could possibly be an eternity.

He kept tending to the garden. He read and reread every book in the library. He brought new flowers to the graves twice a week. He spent countless silent hours in Barok’s bedroom, hoping he would finally open his eyes again.

“How much longer will I have to wait?”

Regret filled Kazuma’s chest as soon as he uttered those words.

“I’m sorry…” He forced a smile, reaching for Barok’s face, gently caressing it. “Rest for as long as you need to. I’ll be here… I’ll always be here.”

Above grief and resentment, he still loved that man more than anything else.

How much time had passed since that day? Months? Years? Decades? Kazuma couldn’t tell for sure… After a while, all days felt the same: tired, thirsty, bitter…

Lonely… So, so lonely.

Had Barok lived like that for all those years? How did he manage to stay like that, despite everything? So warm, so sweet.

I miss him.

How long would it still last…? Not much, Kazuma believed… Not with him in that state. All over his body, countless wounds made by silver weapons refused to close—and, even if the old ones did, soon new ones would cover his flesh again. He could feel the effects of the silver that slowly poisoned him, making him weaker after each battle.

“No matter how many of them I defeat, they keep coming.”

He looked at Barok beside him: he hadn’t changed a single bit after all that time… Kazuma tried to believe he would wake up again, but his hope faded a little more each day. He reached for Barok’s face, but stopped himself. No… Not with that grotesque hand: unnaturally pale skin parted by dark veins, sharp fingernails perpetually stained. He had given up on trying to wash away the smell of blood a long time ago.

If his hands looked like that, he was afraid of seeing his own face. That was the kind of monster his clan told countless stories about… The kind you were supposed to kill on sight, before it had the chance to kill you. In the end, he turned into everything Barok tried not to be.

Why, then…? Why was he the one still standing after all that time?

“I swore to myself that I would keep you safe until you woke up,” he said. “But I don’t think I can protect you for much longer…” He leaned in Barok’s direction, observing his sleeping face while lightly touching his hand. “Please, wake up. Please…”

Nothing. Kazuma stayed there, too tired to go anywhere else. Hours passed—maybe days—and, without fail, more visitors arrived. He knew he should go, defend their home… Yet, he stayed there for a little longer. He wished he could properly say goodbye this time…

No, he didn’t want to say goodbye. He didn’t want to die… He didn’t want Barok to die… He didn’t want it to end like that.

“Forgive me,” he muttered.

Kazuma stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. They were outside, waiting. Just waiting. He knew who he would be facing before he opened the entrance door: who else would choose to attack a vampire in the middle of the night, if not others of their own kind?

A look at those many figures with weapons in hand only confirmed his suspicions.

“You never learn, do you?”

More than defiant, his voice sounded hollow. They wouldn’t go past him… If he could keep Barok safe for just another day, he would. Just one more day…

So, he fought. His body moved as if guided by pure instinct, ignoring the pain in his wounds. One more day… He could survive one more day. He had to.

It felt like it would never end, but, one by one, his opponents fell. By the time he dealt with the last one, the sun was already about to rise, but he couldn’t move. His entire body felt weak… broken.

It was over.

Kazuma closed his eyes. It would be painful… He only hoped it would also be quick.

But the pain didn’t come. For a moment, he thought he was dead, but was soon proven wrong by the feeling of arms around him, dragging him inside the mansion. Did one of those vampires survive…? No, it wouldn’t make sense for them to—

Something like an old memory sparked in his mind. It couldn’t be… Not after all that time. It was just his dying mind playing tricks on him…

He raised his eyes, to that person who looked at him with an expression of concern he had almost forgotten.

“What happened?” asked Barok, seeming lost. “I heard noises, so I…” He stopped talking, his eyes widening as he paid more attention to Kazuma’s face. “What happened to—”

Kazuma threw his arms around Barok’s neck, holding him tightly. He was there… It wasn’t a dream…

“Kazuma?”

He only realized he was crying when a loud sob left his lips. “I thought… I wouldn’t hear your voice again.”

Barok didn’t react for a few seconds. He placed an arm around Kazuma’s waist, bringing the other to his head, staying silent, as if deep in thought. “For how long was I…?”

“I don’t know…” said Kazuma. “It hurt too much to keep counting…”

Barok looked at his face, shocked. “That long…?” He reached for Kazuma’s face, carefully tracing it with his fingertips. “You… Why didn’t you leave?”

Kazuma almost yelled at him for asking something like that. Instead, he shut his eyes, clinging to Barok’s shirt as he muttered: “I’m sorry…”

The tears kept coming, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop them even if he tried. Barok simply held him close, silently, waiting for him to calm down.

Kazuma didn’t realize he had fallen asleep until the moment he woke up on his bed, in Barok’s arms.

“Kazuma,” Barok called. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m…” Kazuma’s answer dissolved in his tongue as he still struggled to believe that Barok was there with him. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Yes.” Barok offered him a slight smile. “You seemed exhausted.”

His answer made Kazuma jump out of the bed, a bad feeling overcoming him. “Shit… I shouldn’t have…”

“Kazuma…”

“Stay there,” he said as he searched the room for his sword. “More of them could appear at any—”

“Kazuma.”

Barok’s voice, as well as the feeling of his hand on his shoulder, made Kazuma go silent, looking at him.

“We should leave,” said Barok.

His words caught Kazuma off-guard. “But… This is your home.”

Barok shook his head. “It was my home once, but those days are long gone.” He offered Kazuma a slight smile. “You gave me a new life… I don’t want to risk losing it again.”

Kazuma could do nothing but look at him for a long while. “Are you sure…?”

“Yes,” said Barok. “I just wish I realized it before…” He lowered his voice. “It would have saved you much pain.”

His words were filled with remorse. Kazuma smiled: after everything that happened, all those regrets and resentments they felt seemed so small… “It’s alright.” He moved closer to Barok, cupping his face with both hands. “It’s over now.”

Barok placed his hands over Kazuma’s, gently squeezing them. He leaned forward, kissing Kazuma’s forehead—a gesture that seemed to warm his entire chest.

They gathered a few belongings, and, by the time the night came, they were ready to leave. As they stepped outside, they were greeted by the flowers: all in full bloom, as if offering them their last goodbyes.

Kazuma would miss it: that garden, that place… All those days he and Barok shared in it.

But it was fine.

“Where to?” asked Kazuma.

“We should just keep going for now,” said Barok. “I suppose we’ll know when it’s time to stop.”

“I suppose.”

They took a few steps—reluctant at first, but, as they kept going, it became easier. By the time they crossed the front gates, the slightly cold wind felt more inviting than intimidating. They exchanged slight smiles, holding each other’s hand as they walked away from that place, without a clear destination in mind.