Work Text:
Bruno stood over his father’s grave. The grass still hadn’t completely grown over it yet even nearly three months later. The same could be said for the wound in his heart, barely scabbed, still bleeding.
He sighed heavily and finally looked down at his hands, seeing that they were still sporting blood from the fight. Bruno gritted his teeth and yanked a handkerchief out of his pocket, scrubbing at them.
He was ashamed. Ashamed of how much he had lost himself in this fight.
This had been the third vampire he’d killed since he had started working as a Hunter. Not counting the ones he had killed when they had broken into his house and killed his father. Not counting the ones who had started all of this.
The vampire’s head had come up, alerted to the Hunters’ presence while feeding. He had rushed Bruno who had gladly run to meet him despite Formaggio’s warning. Bruno had taken up the silver stake and plunged it into the vampire’s chest, forcing him to the ground where he knelt over to top him, yanking the stake out to return it even more viciously, a sneer finding his lips before he could stop himself…
“I thought I would find you here.”
Bruno startled as he turned, slightly guilty, to see Risotto making his way down the row of gravestones.
Bruno looked back toward his father’s quickly, not wanting to face his team leader right now.
“Formaggio said you left as soon as the hunt was finished,” Risotto said.
Bruno shrugged. “I didn’t think I was needed and I…I needed to step away for a moment.”
Risotto was silent, his hands in the pockets of his long overcoat. “I understand how you feel, you know,” he finally spoke.
Bruno glanced over at him warily. “I don’t feel any particular way,” he tried to protest.
Risotto gave him a look. “It’s not uncommon for people to become Hunters because of personal reasons,” he told Bruno quietly. “When I was a boy, I lived with my aunt and uncle after my parents died of the fever. I had an older cousin. I loved him like a brother, he always looked after me and doted on me. Then one day we were on an errand in town and I lost sight of him for one minute. He had gone to help an old woman with her groceries. When I finally found him, it was with a vampire’s fangs in his throat. I got a good enough look to be able to recognize the vampire again—a face I could never forget—before he ran off and left my cousin to bleed out on the street in my arms.”
Bruno felt a pang of sorrow in his chest. “What did you do?”
“Nothing then. I was a child and no one would listen to me. They didn’t want to go up against the vampire nobility. So I taught myself how to kill them, I taught myself how to fight. And when I was eighteen I finally found the bastard and I was ready. I killed him.” Risotto cocked his head to one side. “Now I see it as a calculated risk, but he had been killing others, making trouble for the vampires of the city so in the end they were happy to be rid of him. Polpo found me after that and offered me a position.”
“Why do you tell me this?” Bruno asked.
“Because. I wanted you to know that it’s okay to want revenge, Bruno. But it’s not okay to lose sight of compassion because of it.”
Bruno’s eyes widened as he looked up at him.
“You’ve already killed the vampires responsible for your father’s death, Bruno, as have I with my cousin’s,” Risotto said. “It doesn’t bring them back, it can only make us feel better in the sense that we know no one else will suffer by their hands. Our job as Hunters is not simply to kill. It is to see that justice is done between humans and supernaturals alike.”
Bruno looked down at the dried blood on his hands and shirt cuffs, jaw tight. “Then how do I stop hating?”
“That’s for you to decide,” Risotto told him. “But I will tell you this much: hate has no place in this profession. I learned that the hard way. It took me a long time, and a few good companions, to temper that out of me.” He glanced up toward the sky that was quickly lightening with the approach of dawn. “That vampire from tonight; he was newly turned and feral. He had no one to teach him how to control himself, and he went mad with the bloodlust. It was unfortunate that he was not able to be swayed from his rampage, but the blame cannot entirely be put on him.”
“He still killed people,” Bruno pointed out.
“He did, and he would have seen justice for that regardless,” Risotto agreed. “But part of the blame also lies in the vampire who decided to turn him in the first place. Who took his autonomy of choice away from him. He was then forced to drink blood to survive.”
Bruno was silent.
“This life is not black and white, and thus we cannot be either. We cannot always choose humans as the victims just because we are technically below vampires on the food chain. It’s a Hunter’s job to be subjective in all things. No bias, no prejudice, can be allowed to get in the way of that.”
Bruno nodded slowly. “I understand. It’s just…hard.”
“It will be,” Risotto agreed. “But the more you work, the more you’ll see it. You have everything in you to be a good Hunter, Bruno. You’re fast, and strong, and you have a good head on your shoulders. Just don’t allow it to get clouded.” He ruffled the younger boy’s hair fondly and Bruno grunted, pulling away. “Polpo wouldn’t have allowed you to join if you weren’t worth your salt.”
Bruno sighed, but looked up at Risotto. “You really think there was no way to save that vampire tonight?”
Risotto shrugged. “It was his choice to attack like he did. You were within your rights to defend yourself. Our goal might always be to try and save the lost souls, but our reality is not always that easy. I would rather my men come back to me in one piece than have to attend their funeral.”
Bruno’s stomach twisted, glancing back at his father’s grave one last time. “I can see your point. But I will try to find other solutions in the future. I don’t…” He bit his lip. “I don’t like feeling this anger.”
“Then I don’t worry you going down a path you can’t return from,” Risotto said sincerely and put his hand on Bruno’s shoulder. “Come on. If you’re done here, let’s get you home and cleaned up.”
Bruno nodded, leaving a lingering look on his father’s grave, before he turned.
I think I’m going to do okay, Papa. He said as he followed Risotto out of the graveyard as the first glow of dawn appeared on the horizon. I think I’m going to be okay.