Chapter Text
Draus didn’t mean to be an overbearing father. It’s just… When your child has little mastery of what should come natural to a member of a powerful family of vampires like theirs, and then literally turns to ash from everything—being torn limb from limb to a stiff breeze alike—it’s difficult not to become just a bit overprotective.
It nearly put Draus in an early grave when Draluc moved into his grandfather’s castle all by his lonesome, aside from John. And learning that his son moved to Shin Yokohama to work alongside a vampire hunter/writer/pole dancer? Even if meeting with Ronaldo and all of Draluc’s friends personally eased his worries, it still gives him chills to dwell on the what-ifs.
And those worries lumber low in his stomach everytime he calls Draluc.
Even today, on Draluc’s 211th birthday, where Draus doesn’t think a phone call or text is enough and decides to drop in on the two roommates unannounced. They’re just about to walk out the front door when Draus makes himself known and demands to join them on their outing (Ronaldo throws his usual hissy fit while Draluc tries to tell Draus that he had planned on calling later and didn’t need a personal visit; though he quickly changes his tune when Draus shows him the mountain of gifts and money he had brought as a present).
A party is held for Draluc at the Hunter’s Guild, a scary place for Draluc to hang out at, in Draus’s opinion, despite the amiability superior vampires and humans have grown accustomed to in recent decades. And all the guests—Draluc’s friends—are a particularly… colorful cast of characters. Mostly humans, some vampires, a couple of those in between. But they all seem to get along with Draluc, and all come equipped with plenty of gifts for him. Even Ronaldo himself, who often grumbles and groans about being saddled with Draluc as his forced work partner for over three years, hands him his own gift bag.
“Wow, actually going out of your way to buy something for little old me? And all this time, I thought you didn’t care,” Draluc teases.
“Just open it already,” Ronaldo says, looking away. The color on his cheeks stands out quite vibrantly against his white hair.
Draluc rips through the shoddy wrapping job, snickering to himself all the while. But a look of excitement flashes through his eyes when he spots what’s inside: an ice cold jar of a brand of milk known for being extra creamy and expensive, a couple video games, and a black T-shirt with the saying, “Gamers Don’t Die, They Respawn” printed on it in an overly gothic font.
A wide, toothy smile brightens Draluc’s face. “Ah! How thoughtful!” he exclaims. “Not bad, Gorilla. Here, I was thinking you’d put one of your hideous keychains in a box and call it a day. But this is actually quite sweet of you!”
“Nu nuuun!!” John agrees.
“Don’t get used to it, okay? It’s just a one-time thing,” Ronaldo says. “I saw that stupid T-shirt and thought it would be to your shitty tastes.”
“Don’t say it like that, I quite like it!” Draluc holds the shirt to his chest protectively. “I’m actually not joking about this; I really do like it.”
Ronaldo looks as though he wants to deny Draluc’s claim. But he watches Draluc holding his new gifts like a newborn baby, and something in him softens. “Good,” Ronaldo says. “Don’t say I don’t get you anything.”
The entire guild cheers and claps at the successful gift. The ones keeping track of who gives Draluc the most thoughtful gift move Ronaldo’s name to the top of the list.
Draus watches with a frown. He doesn’t know quite why—perhaps it’s his competitive spirit peeking through—but he feels the need to show everyone who’s the most thoughtful one here.
“I have one more gift for you, Draluc,” he announces as Draluc moves Ronaldo’s presents onto the bar table behind him.
Draluc blinks, a look of exasperation in his eyes. Everyone else shares the same gaze. “Another one? Father, I’m not so sure Ronaldo’s apartment has room for any more.”
“I’ll kill you.”
“Not to worry,” Draus says, digging out his phone. He flips to his photo gallery, pulling up one picture in particular. “Space won’t be an issue.”
On his phone is a shaky picture of a castle. The edges are a little blurry, the photo taken like Draus had been trying to shoot a gun instead of a photo. But its features are recognizable. Strong, impenetrable towers, beautiful granite stone walls, spires that touch the moon. Though the picture is a bit hard to read, Draluc recognizes it instantly.
“This…” he breathes out. “This is my castle…”
The grin on Draus’s face grows wider. He nods proudly.
“But… that’s not—this has to be an old picture, my castle was destroyed—” Draluc grabs the phone out of Draus’s hand and taps on the photo’s information. Once he reads the date it was taken, he’s quickly stunned to silence. “But that would mean….”
“It’s been rebuilt,” Draus announces. “We commissioned it to be restored. From the ground up. Everything has been rebuilt just as it was.”
Draluc stares at the photo as he holds the phone with a trembling hand. The ones closest to him, namely Ronaldo and Hinaichi, can’t help but peer over his shoulder. “But… that’s trillions of yen worth of work…!”
Draus shrugs as if the price were ten yen instead. “A small price to pay for my son’s happiness,” Draus explains. “I hired the finest architects and builders to get the job done. I’ve seen it myself: it’s just how I remember it. And I expect it will be to your liking, as well.”
Draluc shows the picture to John on his shoulder. The armadillo coos with amazement, eyes sparkling. There’s an impressed look on Draluc’s face as well.
“What do you think?” Draus asks.
Draluc can’t stop staring. “It’s… this is amazing…” he breathes out. “I can’t believe it… Castle Draluc… Castle Draluc is back in business!”
As the words leave his mouth, a hearty laugh bubbles inside of him. The excitement gets him up to his feet, eagerly holding up the photo to everyone’s eyes. The crowd cheers, congratulating him on such an accomplishment.
“Does that mean you’re finally moving out?” Ronaldo asks with a smirk.
The question brings Draluc down from his excitement high. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he questions. But then the words register in his head; the possibilities cycling around.
That’s an option for him again.
Draus smiles and waits patiently for Draluc’s answer.
“I… I’d have to think about it,” Draluc admits. “This is so sudden, I’m so unprepared! I don’t even know what to say!”
“I’ve inspected the castle myself—it’s spotless, breathtaking in its perfection,” Draus adds on. “It’s fully prepared for your grand return.”
There’s a hesitance to Draluc’s smile. “That’s… that’s wonderful to hear!” he says. “It’ll be fun to visit it again, won’t it, John?”
“Nu nuu!”
“Maybe if I’m feeling generous, I’ll allow some of you to visit, too,” Draluc suggests to his audience.
“You sure you want Ronaldo anywhere near your castle?” Handa asks. “It’ll go up in flames again the second he steps foot inside.”
“That was one time, and it wasn’t even my fault!” Ronaldo protests.
“Oh? And between the two of us, whose home is still standing after our first meeting?!” Draluc argues. “I didn’t see you making any effort to give me my castle back! You work me so hard, only to give me single yen coins for my contributions! And I don’t even get overtime for cooking and cleaning for you, you five-year-old!”
“If that’s how you wanna be, then I’m taking your presents back, you jackass!” Ronaldo snaps before swinging his leg around in a kick to Draluc’s face.
“Saand!!”
Draus grits his teeth upon seeing his son’s ashes fall to the ground. As everyone in the bar laughs or cheers along, the elder vampire slumps to his knees. “Draluc! Are you alright, my son?” he cries. He looks to the culprit with fire in his eyes. “How dare you hurt my boy like that, you heartless brute—”
But before he can launch into a tirade, Draluc is already back on his feet and laughing it off. “Aww, the poor gorilla would rather resort to violence than take responsibility for his crimes!” He pats Ronaldo on the head, ignoring his scowl. “Oh, the poor thing. Don’t worry, it’s just in your nature to resort to such primitive tactics—”
Ronaldo’s fist flies through Draluc’s head. Draus watches him turn to dust again. The guild hollers like it’s a dinner and a show again. Draluc gets back up, no worse for wear, and laughs it off again.
The topic of Draluc’s rebuilt castle is swiftly dropped.
The night goes on, and Draus sits and smiles with clenched teeth throughout the party. Part of him is a little peeved that his gift to Draluc wasn’t as raved upon as he had hoped. But most of him gets more anxious the longer he stays around these people that Draluc considers friends. From some of them becoming a little too comfortable for Draus’s liking (why are so many superior vampires so… like that? All around, just bad influences for his little Draluc), to the rest of Draluc’s friends being awfully rough with him. Sure some of Draluc’s deaths that evening are accidents: bumps, jabs, too-eager pats on the back. But some…
Some…
Some are the geranium vampire sprouting buds from his… area, and literally scaring Draluc to death. Some are the dhampir thrashing Draluc around until his ashes are shaken from the vessel that is his body. And some —most, actually—are by that brutish, rude vampire hunter Draluc is roommates with.
Over the course of the night, Ronaldo swats, pushes, kicks, punches, and slams the life out of Draluc, reducing him to nothing but a pile of ashes covered loosely by a silk cape over thirteen times. And never bats an eye a single time! No one but Draus does, in fact! His sweet, innocent boy crumbles before everyone’s very eyes, and not one of the cretins are the least bit concerned.
Despite Draluc’s carefree smile, the whole experience puts a bitter taste in Draus’s mouth. One that he can’t swallow down with good food and alcohol and blood.
Draluc complains whenever it happens, but the sweet boy puts on a smile like it doesn’t matter to him. Of course—Draluc doesn’t want to make a scene, make anyone worry or fret over him, that poor innocent child. Of course. He doesn’t want to appear weak. Of course.
But that doesn’t mean Draluc has to deal with this harassment. And Draus thinks it’s time he intervened.
It’s the end of the night. Draus accompanies Draluc and Ronaldo to their shared apartment, despite both protesting his presence. But Ronaldo, too tired and worn out from tonight to put up a fight, leaves the two vampires to squabble on their own. He heads into the apartment with one final, “Happy birthday, Lord Dral,” to Draluc, and a, “If you’re still here by the morning, I’m throwing my whole supply of garlic at you,” to Draus.
When he sees the light filtering in from the crack in the door go out, Draus bares his fangs.
“Pack your things, Draluc. I’m taking you home.”
John just about jumps straight out of his shell, nuu-ing in distress. Draluc’s wide-eyed gaze follows suit.
“F-father?”
Draus glances at the window. “You heard me. We are leaving this wretched place tonight, and I am taking you back home where you belong.”
There is a tense silence that fills the air. Draluc breaks it with an awkward chuckle. “That’s a good joke, Father! Your sense of humor never wains after all these years—”
“I’m not joking, Draluc. I’m taking you back to your castle the instant you’re packed.”
The strained smile slips from Draluc’s lips. A look of horror reflects in his youthful, innocent eyes.
“What…” he breathes out. “What are you talking about, Father?”
Draus spares his son a gaze. The genuine shock and confusion on Draluc’s face stops Draus’s heart for a second, teasing him with the notion that maybe this is a bad idea. But all his son’s deaths in just this evening alone flash through his mind, and Draus grits his teeth.
It’s for the best.
“It was a mistake to let you continue to live like this for so long,” Draus admits solemnly. “I should have done this long ago.”
Realization dawns on Draluc. He clutches John close to his chest.
“F-father, I—I can’t just leave. I live here!” Draluc protests. “The humans here—they adore me, just ask them! I have a job, I have fans; I can’t just abandon all of that! What would Ronaldo think?”
Draluc stops his thought there, staring off into space as if something he said surprised him. Draus takes the sudden lull in the conversation to continue his point.
“That bastard is the very reason I don’t want you to stay here any longer,” Draus bites out. “He’s caused you more harm than good, and I won’t have any more of it!”
“Is this about how rough he is with me? It’s fine, Father—I can handle it! I may not look it, but I feel like I’m even getting a little stronger the longer I work here! I die a lot, but it’s worth it! You haven’t seen just how well we work together—”
“Enough, Draluc.”
Draluc clicks his mouth shut. John shudders into his chest, gripping at his jabot. The only sounds filling the room are John’s frightened nuu’s.
“I’ve had enough of this torment. Watching you die over and over to the people you mistake as friends… I can’t stand it,” Draus says. After a moment, he looks away, the sad look in his son’s eye giving him an ache in his chest. “That hunter has tortured you for years, and you’ve just allowed him to keep hurting you. You think he is your friend, but he sees you as nothing more than a pest to exterminate. He took your home away from you, Draluc. The very first thing he did to you was to try and eliminate you for good. That hunter is not your friend.”
Draluc stays silent. He can’t argue against Draus’s words—all of them are technically true. Ronaldo has been nothing but a rude, selfish asshole to him from the very moment they met. The words printed in the Ronaldo Chronicles paint a prettier picture of their relationship, one that once disillusioned Draus into believing that Ronaldo thought of Draluc as his equal.
But that was never the case.
Ronaldo has hated Draluc from Day One, and has done everything in his power to get rid of him. Even when Draluc had his home destroyed, Ronaldo didn’t agree to let Draluc stay in his apartment out of the kindness of his heart—he let him stay because his team up with a vampire gave him publicity. And even in the face of that false partnership, Ronaldo continues to make Draluc’s life a living hell every damn day.
Draus is ashamed of himself for ever believing Ronaldo to be good for his sweet Draluc. What a horrible, wretched father he is for allowing his son to be terrorized by this human for so long without intervention.
But better late than never, he supposes.
“But… But I…” Draluc starts and stops his thought, gulping. His hands curl protectively—or perhaps, pleadingly—around John, his thumb stroking the hard shell of his little head in an unconscious rhythm. Suddenly, he steels his face, looking up from the floor to meet his father’s eyes with a fierce gaze. “I won’t leave,” he declares shakily. “You can’t make me go.”
Draus frowns. He was afraid Draluc would resist.
He sighs. “I don’t want to have to do this, Draluc, but you leave me no choice. You will either leave with me tonight, or… I’ll destroy every game you have.”
Draluc and John both gasp.
Draus keeps his resolve focused. “Every disk, every cartridge, every weird goggle machine you have—I’ll get rid of it all.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Draluc protests.
“I would, if it keeps you from making poor choices. Anything I must do to keep you safe, I’ll do it without question.” Draus glares Draluc in the eye; seeing his boy squirm with fear fills his heart with disgust. “Do you want that, Draluc?”
Draluc looks like he plans to put up a fight. But the more he thinks, the more the tenacity leaves his eyes.
His shoulders drop. “No, Father.”
Draluc lowers his head, his face hidden completely from Draus’s view. Draus sighs, feeling just as guilty for hurting Draluc as Ronaldo should. He pats his hand on Draluc’s back consolingly.
“It’s for your own good,” he says. “Now pack your belongings. The sun will rise in a few hours.”
Draluc nods. He starts shuffling to the apartment door.
“I need a moment to say goodbye to Ronaldo,” he murmurs.
“Don’t,” Draus demands. He knows that if Ronaldo hears word of this, he’ll certainly have something to say. And Draus can’t risk Ronaldo filling his son’s head with frivolous lies to keep him shackled to him. “Let him sleep. You can write him a note, saying you wish to live back in the comfort of your own home instead of a shabby, haunted apartment.”
Draluc glances at Draus wearily, before sighing and quietly heading inside, careful not to wake Ronaldo as he snores away on the folded couch, blissfully unaware of everything.
He packs his belongings slowly, taking great care to make sure he isn’t forgetting anything. And once he is done, Draus is shocked to find just how empty Ronaldo’s apartment is without Draluc’s touch in every corner. But that’s not their problem to deal with anymore, so Draus pays it no mind.
Draluc leaves a note for Ronaldo right on top of his laptop, folded nicely with his beautiful, practiced penmanship detailing how he will be back in Saitama by the time Ronaldo reads it, and to not wait for him to come back. Draluc writes that the time spent with Ronaldo was fun, but that he wishes to go back to the life he once had, now that the option is available to him once again. And he writes a brief and curt goodbye, telling Ronaldo he is doubtful that they will cross paths again. That Ronaldo should be thankful for the enrichment Draluc gave his career, but that he’ll have to make it on his own from now on.
(Draus does read the note while Draluc isn’t looking to make sure he doesn’t spill the real reason why he is leaving. The less the hunter knows, the better.)
By the time they have all of Draluc’s possessions at the entrance to the apartment, John is in tears. The armadillo sobs into Draluc’s chest, claws gripping the fabric of his dress shirt. He’s telling Draluc something; pleading him for some unknown desire. Draus never quite reached the fluency of his son regarding John’s speech, but Draluc understands him perfectly.
“I know,” he says, dabbing at John’s eyes with his jabot. “I’m going to miss him, too. But it’ll be better like this. We’ll… we’re finally going home again. Doesn’t that sound exciting, John?”
John tells him something. Whatever he says has Draluc looking back at the door to the apartment.
Draluc hugs him closer to his chest. “You know better than that. It’ll be fine. We’ll be living in luxury again, and you’ll realize just how much you missed it.”
John curls up into a ball, unwilling to uncurl despite how Draluc pleads to see his face again.
“Draluc,” Draus says. “I’m willing to wait until you’re ready. But the sun will be coming up before long.”
Draluc nods. He sighs, before wrapping John in his cape and heading to the door to join his father.
“I’m leaving Ronaldo in your care, old friend,” Draluc says to Mebiyatsu, running his fingers along its frame. Mebiyatsu hums in acknowledgement, blinking slowly, almost sadly. Draluc forces a small smile. “Make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”
And with that goodbye out of the way, Draluc finally joins Draus at the entrance to Ronaldo’s agency. He spares one last look at the place, before sighing and pulling his suitcases past the threshold and shutting the door behind them.