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Satoru was used to feeling like he was being watched. Sometimes it felt like the world was watching him, pressuring him to be the best.
Lucky for the world, he already was the best.
The trick was figuring out what was watching him. Was it an ally, desperate for his help against a new nest of vampires? Was it a demon, hunting him down for sport or glory?
Satoru rolled his soda between his hands. “Well?”
His friends looked over to him from where they’d been watching the stage. The Bronze was busy tonight, all the teenagers ready to celebrate the weekend. Satoru was a little lost on what they were singing about, though. The Dingoes Ate My Baby weren’t exactly the most coherent in their lyrics.
“Well, what?” Suguru asked.
“You notice that?”
“If you’re going to speak in riddles all the time, I’m gonna need something more than a coke.”
Ha. There it was. He pinpointed the vampire’s presence. Satoru grinned, taking one last gulp of his soda. “I’m gonna head out. Meet at school tomorrow?”
“More research with Yaga?” Shoko asked.
Satoru snorted. “As if. Basketball. I’m gonna kick Suguru’s butt and you’re gonna take a sick montage video of me.”
Both of them laughed and Satoru left with perfect timing, as usual, the world in awe at his presence.
He waited outside the door. Predictably, he was followed, and then he made his move, grabbing a cold neck and throwing the body against the wall.
The vampire wasn’t subtle. Leather jacket, old-fashioned clothing hidden underneath. Satoru held his stake over a cold, lifeless heart.
“Part of my fan club?” he crooned.
To her credit, the vampire didn’t flinch or fight or do anything that meant her immediate demise. Satoru was a whole head taller than her, allowing him to loom over her. He wasn’t an idiot, though. He knew vampiric strength didn’t match size.
“The Slayer.”
“Vampires and their brains always amuse me.” Satoru pressed the stake in closer. “You love to state the obvious. You’re lucky I’m in the mood to chat. So go on. Trying to get a notch on your belt? Gain some delicious Slayer blood in your veins?”
“I know what you’re thinking. But I don’t bite.” She tilted her head. “How much trouble have you gotten into, living on the Hellmouth now?”
Satoru ignored her question. He tapped on her neck where vampires loved to bite. “You’re pretty cute, for a vampire.”
“Why are you treating me like a joke?” she demanded. “You’re the Slayer. I’m a vampire. And I’ve come here to warn you.”
“Warn me,” he mused. “That’s a new one. Usually they start with threats.”
“I’m not working with the threat.”
“Oh? Color me intrigued.”
She sighed. “There’s an evil, growing here and attempting to harvest souls. A vampire, demon who calls himself Sukuna. He’s an ancient evil and he is incredibly strong. He will do his best to destroy everything, and to usher in a new age of evil, starting in this town.”
Satoru grinned. “Lame.”
Her eyes widened comically. She had a funny scar across her face. She must’ve gotten it long before becoming a vampire.
“Are you taking this seriously?”
“I don’t take anything seriously, babe.”
She spluttered. It was a surprisingly human reaction. Satoru tilted his head, pulling back the stake slightly.
“You’re funny. What’s up with you, huh? Why warn me?”
“You don’t have to believe me, but I have a soul.”
Satoru laughed. And then laughed more. “That’s a good one!”
“I was cursed with it,” she said. “That’s all.”
“Interesting.” Satoru flipped his stake over in his hands, too quick for any human eyes to follow. “I guess we’ll see if that’s true, huh?”
He heard Suguru and Shoko emerging from the Bronze behind him. He looked away for a moment, to check on their reactions, and turned back to find the vampire gone.
“What was that about, Satoru?”
His new classmates were still new to the world of vampires, but Satoru would soon teach them.
“Hard to say,” he said cheerfully. “Might be a new enemy, might be a new friend.”
Utahime had meant to keep her distance after her initial warning to the Slayer. It wasn’t her place, to get close to him. As a vampire for a few hundred years, she knew enough to keep her head down, focus on her goals. Her current goal was to help the Slayer defeat Sukuna. Easy enough, right?
Only the high schooler turned out to be . . . unique.
Utahime had her share of disappointing relationships in the past. The most consistent ones had been with other vampires, but never anything meaningful. Betrayal was a constant threat.
The Slayer made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t in centuries, after knowing him for only a few months.
“Look! It’s the world’s grumpiest vampire!”
Then again . . .
Utahime sighed, turning the book over in her hands. She caught sight of Yaga, Satoru’s Watcher—a dour man, and very suspicious of Utahime’s presence—narrowing his eyes at his pupil.
“Satoru, get back to work!”
The boy pouted. He was meandering closer to Utahime deliberately, though she could tell he was trying to be casual about it. She kept her eyes on the page. She was looking at rituals associated with Sukuna. Across from her, Ieiri was idly scratching in the margins of her notebook.
“What comes next?” Yaga asked.
Utahime cowered under his fierce gaze. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “The tome I found described Sukuna at the Hellmouth, his rise to power and opening the gates to demons and all manner of evil. It . . .” she paused. “Oh.”
“What?” Geto stopped his own research. He was pretty perceptive for a kid. Utahime worried about him, though. He seemed a touch too interested in the dark arts. A little susceptible to the temptation for power.
“There was a line. ‘A strength to fight, but the strength will fall, an honor lost.’”
“Strength and honor,” Yaga murmured.
“Me!”
Utahime turned. Gojo was right next to her now.
“You?”
“I’m the Honored one, aren’t I? It’s gotta be me.”
“So, what, Satoru’s gonna fall? Like, die?” Ieiri asked.
Utahime frantically thought over the prophecy. “N-no, that can’t be right. I mean, maybe it’s referring to a spell, or a weapon.” She looked back down at the book in her hands.
“Slayer strength.” Gojo leaned on her chair, his shirt brushing the back of her head. “What else could it be?”
“So, what. Satoru’s gonna die, and there’s nothing we can do?” Geto’s face was thunderous.
“How did you find this again?” Yaga asked.
Utahime frowned. The tome had been taken from her when Sukuna’s followers had caught up—she’d barely made it out with her life. All that was left was her memory. “I heard rumors that the new Slayer had been found. Some fledgling vampires, planning on making a move on Sa—Gojo. They were easy enough to beat, but one of them had a scrap from the tome. It had predicted where and when the next Slayer would emerge. I confirmed the lead, and then hunted down the book.”
“Mmm. And then you lost it.”
Utahime cowered under the Watcher’s disapproval. “Yes,” she said quietly. She closed her eyes briefly as memory of torture swarmed up. Having centuries as a lifespan, she wished it was easier to forget things. But ever since she’d been cursed with her own soul, her memory was razor-sharp.
She hadn’t realized Gojo had his hands on her shoulders. He was pressing gently into her flesh, trying to knead out the tight knots she’d created. Utahime leaned away, but his hands followed. She finally had to look up to try and use her frown to get him to let go, only to find him looking down on her with an unreadable expression that made her chest seize.
“Well, it was nice knowing you,” Ieiri said to Gojo.
“Prophecies aren’t set in stone,” Utahime said sharply. “We can avert it.” She forced herself not to move as one of Gojo’s thumbs slid up the back of her neck, into her hair.
“How much longer do we have?”
“Not long enough. It’s the next full moon.”
“Prom night,” Gojo said. “Hey, Uta, you wanna be my date?”
Enough was enough. Utahime stood and batted his arm away. “Stop messing around you idiot!”
Satoru hid a grin, trying to keep his walk nonchalant. His nightly patrols through the Sunnydale cemetery had been marked by an increase in vampire activity with the upcoming Sukuna’s arrival. It made his life more fun, anyways.
The best part was, Utahime was stalking him.
Satoru pretended to drop his guard, letting his wooden stake dangle and fall from his fingertips. The other vampire he’d sensed lurking nearby dove in. Satoru let himself get thrown over a gravestone and slammed into the soft loam.
As he’d predicted, Utahime was instantly there, tearing back her kinfolk and stabbing it with the wooden stake that Satoru had dropped. Dusted.
“Aw, look who’s saved me from sure and certain death!” Satoru batted his eyelashes at her.
Utahime looked over him suspiciously. “What was that about? Why did you drop this?”
“I didn’t even realize I’d dropped it! How silly of me.” He couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “Are you going to help me up?”
She frowned. “Gojo, this is not a game.”
With one quick motion, he caught her ankle, flipped her over and onto her back. He hovered above her, smirking.
“You’re pretty weak for a vampire, you know.”
She bared her teeth, but didn’t let her face change. Her teeth remained even and straight. Like a puppy trying to be intimidating. “Whatever, Gojo!”
Satoru leaned down. It was tempting to try and kiss her now, but he was pretty sure she would instantly reject him. He wasn’t that much of an idiot.
“What is it that makes you so weak? Is it that pesky soul you say you have?”
“Sure, yes,” she said.
Satoru reached out, thumbing over her scar. “How’d you get this? It was before you became a vampire, right?”
Utahime’s eyes were wide enough to reflect the moon. “I don’t . . . I don’t remember,” she said. She didn’t pull her head away, so Satoru kept his hand against her face.
“I don’t think you’re telling me the truth,” he mused. “Isn’t it horrible, lying with a soul?”
She finally shoved up and away from him, scooting backwards and pulling her knees up to her chest. “Okay, fine! I do remember, but I have no reason to tell you about it.”
“How come?”
“It—” Utahime hid deeper in her leather jacket. Satoru wondered if she’d been a biker. He could picture it. Cute little Utahime on a large motorcycle. Sexy.
“You can tell me,” he murmured. He dared to scoot closer to her again, until her knees were up against his torso. Then he waited. Patience was not his strong suite, but for Utahime . . .
“My father. He . . . I was an easy target to him, and then when he went too far, I was damaged goods. Thrown out. Left to die, until my sire found me.”
Anger shivered through Satoru’s veins. He wrapped an arm around Utahime’s calves, to make up for how he wanted to hug her. “That’s horrible.”
She sighed. “Given what I did after becoming a vampire, honestly Gojo, it’s what I deserve.”
“It still sucks.”
Her smile was small, but it thrilled Satoru to even see it there. “Thanks, anyways.”
Satoru stood, offering Utahime a hand up. She took it without argument.
“So why are you so weak?”
“I don’t drink human blood,” she said.
“Ah.” Satoru hadn’t even thought to ask that. “Guess that’s good. You’re not murdering people on the side.”
“You know, as the Slayer you should’ve checked into that before inviting me into your group. Not to mention how you’ve tried to invite me to your house,” she said drily.
“Yeah, yeah. Semantics.”
Utahime had caved to Gojo’s demands, joining him on patrols for a few weeks, but it never got easier. He liked to surge ahead, confident in his abilities and strength. This time, he had tried to go straight for a huddle of seven vampires. Utahime had just managed to grab the back of his collar in time, pulling him behind a mausoleum.
“You know, if you’re so old, then you’re pretty creepy, hitting on someone my age,” Gojo said cheerfully.
Utahime resisted the urge to change, gritting her teeth and willing her incisors to stay shortened. “Gojo, you are an idiot child. I am not hitting on you.”
“No?” Gojo’s bright blue eyes narrowed on her. Utahime barely had any warning before he was pressing her up to the wall of the mausoleum. She shoved at him, but his Slayer strength caught her off guard.
“You are a child,” she snapped. “Stop being inappropriate!”
“Well, everything’s inappropriate when you’re a couple hundred years old, isn’t it?” Gojo’s smile was angelic, even as his hand crept up Utahime’s side. “What, are you really going to let me die without my first kiss?”
At the reminder, Utahime felt her cold heart grow even colder.
“Gojo, stop messing around.” She looked away from his hopeful, young eyes. “We don’t have much time.” Only a week more until the full moon, and Gojo’s predicted demise.
“Dying a virgin,” he sighed.
If Utahime could blush, she knew she would’ve. Gojo finally allowed her to push away. She straightened out her leather coat.
“You have a responsibility. A destiny,” she said.
“Screw destiny.” Gojo flipped a crucifix over in his hands. Utahime flinched as it got too close to her arm. He grinned at her. “You’re my destiny, babe.”
“I am not your babe.” Utahime turned away, knowing she had to resist. As immature and ridiculous as the Slayer was, he was still, somehow, a magnet. She had caught sight of him and hadn’t been able to look away.
Gojo was watching her closely. Utahime was too distracted by his pretty blue eyes; she missed the way he was fiddling with something at his side.
The slide of the pocketknife was shallow, but it was enough. Utahime’s entire body came alive at the scent of blood in the air—her face changed before she could stop it, revealing the monster she was.
“Have a taste.”
Utahime had pushed at him, grabbed at his wrist before she knew what she was doing. Just before her teeth sank into his forearm, she managed to wrestle control back from the vampire inside. She held herself there, where she could see the way his pulse thrummed under his skin.
If Utahime could rip out the soul, take away her curse, she wished she could at that moment. The hunger was so strong, it made her want to tear Gojo to pieces, consume him whole.
It took everything in her, to shove herself away from the teenager.
“You idiot, Gojo!” She was trembling.
“So weak.”
Utahime frowned, lifting her head to look up at him.
He shook his head at her, like she was the child who had misbehaved. “You could have all this power, and you ignore it. Leave yourself weak and powerless. What’s a vampire worth, when they don’t drink any human blood?”
Utahime didn’t bother answering, as she was still trying to get herself under control.
She couldn’t stop the whimper, as he lifted his still-bleeding forearm and passed it under her nose.
“Weak, but . . . so strong.” Gojo’s eyes were hungry on her, like he was the vampire wanting to drink her blood. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”
It took a few more attempts before Utahime was able to fully pull herself back, hide away the monstrous part of herself that twisted up her face.
“Such a brat,” she breathed.
Gojo wrapped a bandana around his arm. He nudged at her with his elbow.
“Come on, we should meet up with the others to take out that group, or they’ll assume we’re making out. Unless . . .”
Utahime grabbed his ear and he yelped.
Satoru was angry.
He had been fifteen years old when he found out he was the Slayer. The Honored one, one boy in all the world to slay and defeat the vampires. He’d told himself early on that it wasn’t worth getting angry or caring too much—waste of energy. There was a lot of death and destruction surrounding the Slayer. Better to have fun with it.
He was angry now.
Sukuna had done his best to destroy Satoru. He just hadn’t done quite enough.
The ancient vampire was glaring at him, face ugly and twisted. “You’re supposed to be dead!”
Satoru flipped the stake over in his hand, grinning ferociously at the vampire in front of him.
“I might be dead, but at least I’m still pretty,” he said.
Sukuna’s marked and deformed face twisted further into a snarl.
Satoru did his best not to look at the figure slumped in the corner.
When vampires died they exploded into dust.
Not dust. Not dead.
She was still alive.
Satoru may have lost his first fight, but he wouldn’t lose his second. It was a deadly dance with Sukuna that ended with a stake in the vampire’s heart.
He realized Sukuna’s game as he approached Utahime. She lunged for him, the vampiric features twisting her face, hiding her scar. She seemed half-mad with hunger, and weak. Satoru caught her wrist and she could hardly tug against his strength.
He must’ve used some kind of spell on her. Sukuna had wanted to reduce Utahime to her base instincts as a vampire, and take control of her that way. She was so weak, as a vampire, because she refused to drink human blood.
Weak, but the strongest vampire Satoru had ever met.
“You’re okay,” he said. He felt ridiculously young and inadequate. Utahime, for all her years and experience, didn’t even recognize him.
He carefully wrapped his hands around both of her wrists, his long fingers making it easy to keep her under control. Then he drew his forearm close to her mouth.
In an instant, she had opened her mouth, long incisors gleaming, and clamped down on his arm. Satoru let out a grunt of pain, but didn’t allow himself to let go of Utahime’s wrists. The natural endorphins that vampires induced every time they bit started to take hold. Satoru breathed heavily, finding himself tipping towards Utahime as she drank from him.
Sure, he’d already died once today. Maybe a second time wouldn’t be so bad.
The moment Utahime came back to herself, she shoved Satoru away. He stumbled back, landing inelegantly on his rear.
“Gojo!” Utahime wiped at her mouth, looking horrified. “Gojo, I . . . what did I do?”
“You took what I offered.” Satoru pushed himself upright, ignoring the spots behind his eyes. “Come on, you ready to get out of here?”
She scrambled away from him as he tried to reach out. “D-don’t, don’t, no, no, no, I—“
Satoru didn’t have the energy to come up with words. He wasn’t polite enough, and shoved himself back into Utahime’s face. She whimpered, pressing a hand over her mouth.
“Bet it tasted good,” he mused. “Slayer blood.”
“Satoru,” she whispered. “Don’t.”
He touched her jaw, loving the way she shivered under his fingers. “I’d give you more, if you asked.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Her dark eyes lifted to his, anguish filling them. “You died. Satoru, you—“
“Can’t keep me down, you know that.” Satoru slid his thumb across the bridge of her nose, the tough scar tissue a strange texture. “Come on, babe. Let’s get out of this sex dungeon.”
“It’s not a sex dungeon!” Utahime stood, seeming to take in her surroundings for the first time. “And I’m not your babe!”
“Uh huh.” Satoru took the opportunity to slide an arm around Utahime’s waist. She didn’t seem to notice, wary as she examined Sukuna’s lair. Her body was cold against him.
“Do they know? The others?”
“What?”
“That I . . . failed you.” Utahime looked anguished.
Satoru shook his head. “You didn’t fail me. What, you think that I could’ve beaten Sukuna without you here?”
She made a face. “I didn’t do anything, Satoru.”
He inwardly cheered that she’d used his first name. He played it cool, though, slyly sliding his hand up to fiddle with her hair. “Aw, I’m sorry, I thought Shoko and Suguru brought me back from the dead, while you went on to distract Sukuna until I was able to attack him.”
Utahime eyed the fingers he had twirling her hair, but didn’t pull her head away.
“Yeah, well. I thought I could do more than get myself magicked.” She reached up in turn to slide her fingers against his neck, where Sukuna had bitten him. Satoru did his best not to react, to act unaffected. “So, what now?”
Satoru grinned. “Prom?”
Utahime stopped and stared at him. “You can’t be serious.”
“Prom is a very important milestone for my senior year! It’s like . . . I dunno. Super important.”
“Satoru, I am a couple hundred years old. You can’t expect me to—“
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, fine. You can be laaaaame.”
They were approaching the others, and Satoru couldn’t deny the relief of seeing them all safe. Sukuna’s ritual had released hundreds of vampires—Satoru’s initial failure had meant vampires had run rampant for too long while his friends had brought him back from the brink of death.
Suguru and Shoko were watching him, smiles on their faces. For once, their concern didn’t feel grating. It felt . . . nice. To have allies that cared whether he lived or died.
“So, wanna go to prom?” Shoko asked. She had an unlit cigarette between her lips.
“Whaddaya think, Utahime, do—“
Satoru turned, and realized that Utahime had disappeared again. He pouted, briefly.
Her duty done, would she leave now? She’d followed Sukuna’s trail for the purpose of helping Satoru against him. Maybe she’d disappear. Go back to her wandering, lonely life as a vampire with a soul.
“Satoru? You good?”
He pasted a smile on his face. “Never better!”
It was stupid. This was so stupid. She was so stupid. Utahime hid her white dress under her leather jacket, feeling horribly out of place. All these kids were having the time of their lives, dancing with each other, getting ready to set off for a new life and new adventures. Utahime was an ancient demon, a creature of the darkness. She didn’t deserve to be there.
She caught sight of Gojo. He wasn’t dancing. He was watching Ieiri and Geto dance with a smile on his face, but his usual energy seemed muted. As Utahime watched, a girl approached, looking hopeful. Gojo shook his head at her, turning away.
With the motion, he was now facing Utahime. She froze as he caught sight of her. His entire face lit up.
Utahime felt like cowering as he approached. She rubbed at her face as he got close—it was too late to wish she had made an effort to cover her scar up with make-up.
“Utahime.” His eyes were sparkling. “Knew you couldn’t keep away from me.”
She spluttered something, trying to turn away.
“No, come on, Uta.” Gojo grabbed her wrist, drawing it up. Utahime felt her fears melt as he kissed her hand. “Dance with me.”
He drew her out onto the dance floor. Utahime caught sight of Ieiri and Geto watching them, grinning. Past them, she saw Yaga observing. She blanched, worried that she’d finally overstepped. The Watcher merely lifted his glass in a toast, though.
Gojo spun her close. “Didn’t think you’d come back,” he murmured.
Utahime lifted her eyes up to him. For once, the joking and teasing was gone from his face. He was searching her face for . . . something.
She shrugged uncomfortably. “Figured you deserved it, for dying.”
“That’s the spirit.”
They swayed together. Gojo was a good dancer—he seemed to be good at whatever he tried—and Utahime drew on her experience from a hundred years ago. They stood out from the kids dancing around them with their traditional dancing.
“I don’t want tonight to end,” Gojo breathed.
Utahime tightened her grip. “You’ve been watching too many romance movies,” she told him. She was slightly breathless, even though they were dancing to slow songs.
“Okay, fine, I’ll stop being mushy. How ‘bout if we ask them to play the ‘YMCA’ will that make you feel better?”
She frowned up at him. “Gojo . . .”
“Hey!”
She blinked. “What?”
“Stop it. You called me Satoru, before. Don’t switch back.”
Utahime shivered a little at the look in his eyes.
“I . . . shouldn’t.”
“What are you so scared of?”
“Hurting you.” Utahime stopped their swaying movements, dragging him off of the dance floor to a dark corner. “You’re just starting your life. I want to see you succeed, to live as a Slayer. And yet, you’ve already died once. I wasn’t able to stop the prophecy.”
She thought for once, given his mood, he might take her seriously. Instead, he suddenly lifted her into his arms, twirling her around once and then backing her against the wall.
“I like how you worry about me. Even though I am the strongest ever.”
“Arrogant idiot,” she growled, squirming against him.
“Aw, come on. I died today, are you really going to keep yelling at me?”
Utahime rolled her eyes. “You’d deserve it.”
“Sure.” His eyes darted down to her lips. “Utahime, please don’t make me beg.”
She was weak, and she knew it. But with Slayer blood in her veins, she had extra strength at her disposal.
Utahime broke Gojo’s grip, twisting them around again until she had him pressed up against the wall instead. Gojo stared down at her, eyes full of surprise and the longing she’d seen hidden in their blue depths.
“One kiss,” she told him. “That’s it.”
Gojo surged into her with the eagerness of the teenager he was. Utahime slowed him down with a gentle swipe of her hand through his hair, a restraining hold on his neck.
As a vampire, she’d lost a lot of the memories of warmth; the sensations of being a human.
With Gojo’s lips, soft and warm against her cold ones, Utahime could almost believe that there was something left in her of humanity—that she could be something more than her guilt and her mistakes.
Gojo took every second that she allowed him, kissing her like he was dying for it. When she finally pushed him back, he’d lost the smug look he so often had. Utahime couldn’t look at him for too long, as he glowed with affection and . . . maybe something more.
“Man, I guess I’ll need a couple centuries to get skills like that,” he said.
“Stop it,” she muttered. She moved to pull away, but Gojo held her captive with an arm around her waist. Utahime frowned at him. “Satoru . . .”
“Come with me? Please?” He darted in to press a quick kiss to her cheek. “I don’t want to be alone. Let’s go walk in the cemetery.”
Utahime was weak. She sighed, letting him guide her out the door and into the night. The Hellmouth was quiet, the evil defeated for once. Gojo’s hand was warm in her cold one.
“There’s something poetic about it,” Gojo mused. “A Slayer and a vampire.”
“Tragic,” Utahime agreed.
“Nah.” Gojo tilted her chin up. Utahime could’ve sworn the soft look on his boyish face made her heart beat again. “Not our story.”
Utahime didn’t have it in her to deny him as he kissed her again.