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Chapter Text

Name : [Name] Dazai

Gender : Female 

Species : Dhampir

Ability : Your ability, 「Theatre of Deceit」 , allows you to determine someone’s true intentions, and force them to speak or even act out their true intent.

Affiliation : Decay of Angels, Rats in the House of the Dead, The Chasseurs

Likes : [Your likes]

Dislikes : Humans, Vampires, [Your Dislikes]

Extra :

> You can’t remember much from your past life especially from your older years (surprisingly), but you can remember the people that were there during your death quite clearly.

> Your brother is Osamu Dazai, but you did not grow up with him in the Port Mafia. Instead, you had grown up separately from him and became friends with Fyodor Dostoyevsky (You still have no idea how you managed to do this) and soon became a founding member of the Rats of the House of the Dead, and soon joined the Decay of Angels.

> Just like your brother, you have a fascination with death, but unlike your suicidal counterpart you do not mind a painful death, and nor do you want/need a suicidal lover who will die with you.

> You hate Ruthven, your adoptive father, with a burning passion outmatched only by the sun.

> Your friends are Olivier, Roland, and you have this kind of love/hate friendship with Astolfo, but you know he secretly likes you.

> Your Dham friends— Dante, Riche, and Johann, introduced you to Domi once. That lady scares you but also seems to draw you in…

—

A/n

Because this is set in France, the first name will be before the last name.

See you in the next chapter,

—— Ryoko

Chapter Text

You were shaking.

Why were you shaking?

This was the death you craved.

This was the sweet release you desired.

So why did you shake?

Was it out of fear?

Or was it just your body reacting to the mix of blood loss and the copious amounts of smoke you had breathed in?

Or was it the brain damage you obtained from being pushed off a building, what was it, 10 minutes ago?

Probably the brain damage.

Your vision was getting darker.

Your breathing became ragged.

You were so close to just giving in and closing your eyes, but you felt like you were missing something.

Someone .

Oh, right.

You had sent your location to Fyodor before your hands stopped working.

You wanted to wait for him.

He was the only one to understand you, truly. He was the only one you didn’t fear in this world.

You hoped he would be by your side when you died. 

“That stupid rat better get here quickly, before I die…” you mutter, allowing your ichor-like red liquid to bubble up your throat and into your mouth.

After what felt like an eternity, you could hear voices.

But you couldn't open your mouth to utter another word. Your vision had been reduced to a small tunnel. 

 As you fade in and out of your consciousness, you could hear someone calling your name, and a figure growing ever so closer.

Why did the voice sound so familiar?

“…ame]! [Name]! Wake up!” It was Fyodor.

Shit, were you hallucinating or was he crying? No, there was no way the Fyodor Dostoyevsky was crying. And over someone like you? Yeah, no. He can go back and cry with his twink boy-toy Nikolai once you’re dead. 

“Fyo—“ More blood. “—dor… Sorry-” You speak through the miniature pool of blood in your mouth. There was enough that a fly could use your nose as a diving board and dive right into it. 

But don’t be absurd— that’s probably just the blood loss speaking.

You tried to move, but you couldn’t. Was your spine broken? That would be tragic if you were to live. That was an unlikely scenario, though. 

You could hear your friend (when was the last time you’ve called anyone that?) next to you, but your sight along with your other senses had completely disappeared at this point.

You were beyond saving, that was obvious to anyone.

As Fyodor attempts to awaken you, but you could only hear your own heart slowing down.

And then everything faded into nothingness. A blissful nihility, just for you.

…Or so you thought.

—

A/n

Honestly do people even like VNC 😭😭😭

I’ll see you in the next chapter,

—— Ryoko

Chapter Text

Brightness surrounds you.

Holy shit , are you alive?

Wait.

No, something is off.

Very off.

You were… short, and your arms were not as long.

This wasn’t you.

Where was your fluffy black hair and your prized amber eyes?

Now you had [h/l] and [h/t] [h/c] hair and you could only assume you had a different eye color now. 

Your [s/c] skin was not riddled with scars and other various injuries.

In fact, you only realized now that you could see and hear just fine!

Your hands raised and wrapped around your neck. The rough skin that was wrapped around by bandages and so many, so, so many ropes that you couldn’t bother to count. It was gone.

All of it was gone.

“All of my hard work..!” You rasp.

“All of the things I worked toward! All of it, gone like that!” Your murmur warps into a pained cry as your head hangs down. 

When you look down though, your clothes were tattered and roughed up, it was even fraying slightly. Actually, scratch that. You were wearing literal rags. Like, potato sack type of rags. 

And you were at the edge of a very barren road.

Where were you?

What should you do?

You— as you could only assume— were reincarnated into the body of a homeless child.

Were you even in your own world anymore?

Questions swirled around in your head like a tornado, picking up any thought and swirling it into negativity.

Well, if you could find someone you could use your ability on them.

Growlllll…

Oh. 

You were hungry?

You never truly felt hungry before. Sure, you ate to live, but you never felt full or empty. 

You decided it was a good idea to eat if you didn’t want to die during your second chance god has given you, even if this second chance was completely unwanted and utterly unwarranted. What the heck god?

• ••

You’ve been walking for how long? You can't remember. The best you found was a stupid-ass medicinal herb used for stomach pains. Any plants in the area were foreign to you. 

You definitely weren’t in Yokohama anymore.

Scratch that, you definitely weren’t in Japan anymore. 

It also seemed as if you weren’t even in the same era.

You should have listened more in those geography lessons from when you still went to school.

If someone picks you up from off this horrid road, will you have to go to school again?

The thought makes a sour taste in the back of your mouth.

• ••

Before you knew it, it was time for the sun to set.

Your eyelids were begging you to close them and let you feel the sweet relief of sleep, but as the madlad you are, you persevere forward!

But inevitably, your pace slows. 

Then you fall to the ground.

“Oh my. What do we have here?”

And that’s the first and last thing you heard before the day ended and you gave into the desire of sloth.

—

A/n

Bro I’m on FIYAHHHHHH

Fun fact: [Name] is based more on Oba Yozo, the protagonist of No Longer Human, which was written by the real Dazai Osamu! So don’t expect [Name] to be a carbon copy of Dazai. She most certainly is not.

I’ll see you in the next chapter!

—— Ryoko

Chapter Text

“Fyodor, do you think I’m a monster?” You blurt. It was a sudden question. You and Fyodor, at age 15, were sitting in his house, on the couch in silence as you did your cursed homework together.

His eyes widened for a second, he didn’t expect you to ask that to him, not so soon. He recovered quickly as ever, though.

“No, I don’t think so.” He said. To the naked eye, he looked genuine, not like a master manipulator who could drop his face at the drop of a dime. But you were different. You knew everything about him. From his embarrassing moments in 7th grade to the time you spotted him trying to dissect a squirrel, everything.

Yes, I do. I think that you’re just like me. Your heart fell as your ability revealed his true emotion. Your ability was your enemy, at times. Why did you use your ability that time? It was better just to leave it at that, the simple ‘No’ would have been enough. Curiosity killed the cat, as they always say. 

“I-I see…” Were you sad? Because your friend thought you were a monster? You tried to hide it, but you were like an open book to Fyodor— after all, he knew everything about you as well. He knew you used your ability on him and that you knew he thought you were a monster. He knew that you were a teenager too. A teenager that felt insecure, unwanted, and unneeded. Of course, him thinking you were a monster definitely didn’t help that.

He slowly moved closer to you.

“I’m sorry.” Not even an explanation, as usual. Just sorry. At times like this, you really wished that you could punch Fyodor, but you’d die if you did so. What a cruel joke god played on you.

“Ah… I hate you, Fyodor.” The only person in this world that you didn’t fear, that you didn’t put on a show around. You could be yourself near him, and yet you felt you had to hide everything from him as well.

If only you could just hug him and cry on his shoulder and die. Maybe you should have done that, all those years ago, and saved yourself from all that suffering.

But that wouldn’t have been a death you would have wanted.

Right?

• ••

You awoke to see a room with intricate wall trimming and detailed patterns on the ceiling, a singular tear at the corner at your eye, which never fell. Maybe you had a bad dream? A nightmare, even?

There was a voice next to you, speaking in a language you didn’t know. Well, you could barely compute anything, actually. You just woke up.

“W-What..?” You spoke in Japanese.

“You’re awake, I see. Good.” It sounded like… French? Guess you got the long-awaited answer to your question. You were probably in France.

If that’s the case, maybe this man knows Russian? You doubt he knew Japanese.

“Who… Are you?” You inquire in Russian. God, your voice was rough and dry. Your throat hurts just by breathing too hard. Speaking Russian was difficult as it was, but with a dry throat? Hell nah, my bro.

The man looked at you with slight shock. First, you spoke in a language he didn’t know of (or at least he thought, since he didn’t know what you were saying.), and then in Russian. How did a child know two languages and neither of them be French, the country they were in?

“I… Augustus Ruthven.” He pointed to himself while saying his name. The man spoke in broken Russian, with a bad accent too. You nearly laughed at his attempt at Russian, but that would ruin your already dry and hoarse throat.

Now that your eyes have adjusted, you can see that the man had purely red eyes with a spiral-like pattern on them, an eyepatch, and red hair that went just below his shoulders. He looked like a high-class aristocrat too, with his posh outfit.

You slowly nod. “I am…” Cough, cough... “[Name].” You reply in Russian. Come to think of it, didn’t you take French in middle school and high school? You were far from fluent, but you could understand a little, mainly because you sucked so badly at French, Fyodor took it upon himself to drill it into your head until it was like a brand mark on your brain. Most of your energy was placed towards making sure you didn’t forget your Japanese while you were studying with Fyodor in Russia.

The man- Ruthven- nods. “Do you speak French?” He asks, in French.

“Little amount.” You reply. Hopefully you said the right thing, you haven’t spoken in French since you were, like, 17. “Do you speak Japanese?” You ask in Japanese. He just gives you a confused look. “I guess-” Your throat hurts. “Not.” You sigh, then immediately regret it when your throat burned in protest of the long exhale.

Giving up on speaking, you gesture to your throat then shake your head, trying to tell him that your throat hurt. He nodded and stood up to leave.

Now was a better time than ever.

You try to use your ability.

I’ll be back with a glass of water.

It worked

It worked!

The amount of relief and happiness this gave you was immeasurable.

You finally confirmed that you could use your ability, even in a different body.

Now then, you’re still quite tired.

Just closing your eyes for a minute or two shouldn’t hurt.

• ••

You woke up to see Ruthven sitting next to you, just staring at you.

It gave you some serious Mori vibes, but you shrugged it off.

He had a cup with water in it on the bedside table next to you.

You sit up, then take the cup and look at him with gratitude, to which he just nods at.

You stare at the water for a moment, sniffing it. You just wanted to make sure you weren’t gonna get poisoned.

After confirming it was just plain old, fresh and clean water, you drank it like there was no tomorrow.

To your surprise, you had long fangs that hit the glass harshly with a clink!  

Weird. Those were far too long to be a human’s canines, right?

Ruthven waited until you finished.

“Thank you.” You say in French, with an accent that was probably very off.

“You’re welcome.” He replies.

“Uh… Shit I don’t know much French…” Now it was just awkward, with you and Ruthven just silently sitting there and not even making eye contact.

“You don’t seem to have a home, correct?” He asks suddenly.

You didn’t even know who you were anymore, and he expects you to answer him?

“I don’t.” For some reason, you felt as if your vocal chords were suddenly taken over. Maybe it was the original body’s muscle memory? It felt like a reasonable conclusion.

“This may seem strange, but… You can stay with me.” You couldn’t understand half of what he said, but he seemed to be offering you a place to stay. You narrow your eyes at him, and use your ability.

I think I’ll keep you around. You nearly spat out the sip of water you just took just then.

“Oh no…” You muttered in Japanese.

–

A/n

Ok… three chapters for the remaster debut! I think that’s good enough, right?

I’ll see you in the next chapter,

Ryoko

Chapter Text

From what you knew, you were 13 when you appeared in this world.

You’ve learned a lot since then thanks to Ruthven, all to your dismay.

It’s been 3 years, and your knowledge of French has really expanded since then.

Well, it was outdated French, apparently. You were in the 1800s, as you learned during your first few months living in a foreign body. 

In fact, you could go as far as to say you were nearly fluent.

Currently, Ruthven was teaching you about this famous war, or something.

“[Name]. You have to listen to this. It’s an important milestone in France’s history!” Ruthven scolded you.

“It happened, what, 200 years ago or something? I don’t like dwelling on things that happened in the past.” You sigh. In truth, you were interested. You just wanted to annoy Ruthven. Let’s just say head been a… a handful. Yes, a handful. 

“I was there, you know.” He says, obviously trying to get you to show more interest. You nearly choked on air.

“ What .” That was a long time for someone to be alive.

“That’s not humanly possible! How the heck are you alive?” Questions spiraled around in your head.

“Well, I’m… not human.” He responded.

Well, that was like a double hit.

“You’re… not human? Literally? Are you like Chuuya? Or Dazai?” Oh, right. Ruthven didn’t know about the events that happen in Japan’s future, if they even do happen in this world.

“Who?” He asks, then shakes his head. “Nevermind. Let’s just get this over with.” He places a fairly thick book in front of you.

“Read. It’s important that you know this stuff.” He looked stern.

I need you to know this so you can join the Chasseurs.

The what now? Chasseurs? Weren’t those a military unit in the French army?

What the heck does that have to do with a war?

You shake your head, and continue to read the textbook in front of you.

You smile with nostalgia as you remember just how much more difficult it was to study alongside Fyodor, of all people.

-

A/n

Ermm I know this isn't very good so for BUT I SWEAR IM COOKINGGG

I’ll see you in the next chapter,

Ryoko

Chapter Text

Years have passed. You’re 16 now, for the second time.

As you walk through the woods of the human realm— you were finally given permission to do so after gaining trust through your years with Ruthven, who you’ve grown to hate— you spot a small, pink haired girl and what seemed to be a smaller version of them sitting next to them, making flower crowns together.

Humans? 

You can’t remember the last time you saw a human.

You want to approach the two, but…

You were scared. 

Humans, what strange creatures.

You were still scarred by your past.

The thought of being human was terrifying.

Though with enough courage, you approach them, albeit carefully.

The older one notices first, quickly turning her head in the direction of you. 

“Hello.” You greet them, bowing your head.

The only response you got was a confused, estranged stare.

No. No, no. Stop staring at me like that.

I hate it.

Stop it.

Stop.

Stop.

Stop .

A lump forms in your throat,  anxiety taking hold of your vocal chords and keeping them in its vice grip.

“Um…” You try to speak, but you can barely form anything coherent.

As if to save you from your perpetrator, the younger one speaks up.

“Who are you?” The kind voice rang out, breaking the silence, and the hold on your own voice as well.

“I’m… Yōzō(1).” A simple alias that will not harm anyone, correct?

“Yōzō, what a strange name.” The older one blurts out, then immediately blushes and apologizes for their imprudence.

Such strange, seemingly out-of-nowhere acts make you smile, you don’t know why.

Perhaps because you find it cute,

Or perhaps out of bitterness. 

After all, you could never be like that, could you?

You move a little closer, sitting in the field with the two and assist them in making their little flower crowns.

Minutes pass until you muster the courage to make some small talk.

“So… your names?” You inquire.

“I’m Astolfo.” The older one smiles and introduces themselves.

“I’m…”

• ••

After an hour or so, you check your watch (that of which was gifted to you by Ruthven so you can come back on time.). It was time to leave. 

You frown and stand up.

“It’s time I leave now, take care and stay safe for me, will you?” You smile and wave goodbye, wanting to rush this as much as you can. Goodbyes were never something you liked.

-

(1) Oba Yōzō is the main character of Ningen Shikkaku (人間失格)/No Longer Human by Dazai Osamu (1909-1948). The book deals with the idea of alienation- or not being able to ”feel human”.

A/n

If I lock in I will get the next chapter out tomorrow or something trust

I'll see you in the next chapter,

Ryoko

Chapter Text

“ Fuck you! ” You spat out, storming off to your room in anger. 

You’ve finally had enough.

You grabbed a bag covered by a blanket from under your bed. 

You were going to escape. 

With a determined gaze, you grabbed your most precious belongings (and a few of your favorite clothes,) and shoved them into your bag. 

You look at the red moon outside. 

You’re excited to leave this hellhole. 

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you quietly crawl through your window and drop into the courtyard.

“Good riddance.” You grin, making your way to the gate to the human world. 

• ••

Well… What now? You just realized you’re utterly lost.

“ France surely is big… ” You mumble to yourself in Japanese as you stare at the beautiful buildings. And then at the few people roaming the dark streets. Then yourself.

You sigh. You look so out of place right now, with the bandages riddling your hands from the rough battle training.

Maybe you could buy some extr–

“ Oof-!!” You huff, running right into something- someone , and nearly losing your balance.

But of course, being the badass you are, you stabilize yourself without help.

“Are you ok?” A beautiful, chocolatey smooth voice soothes your ears.

You look up to see a boy around your age, a year older give or take. He was around your height. He had dark hair and piercing topaz-esque eyes– something right out of your dreams.

To put it simply, he was very, very pretty.

“Miss..?” He looks at you, concerned.

You snap out of your daze. “I-I’m fine.” You manage to muster the words as you feel that familiar lump in your throat form.

You still hated humans.

“Er… alright.” The pretty boy runs a hand through his long locks. He seemed weirded out by you.

You sigh. “Um…” This is awkward. Your eyes dart side to side and your breathing gets ever so slightly heavier.

“Are you sure you’re ok? You look awfully warm…” His voice is slightly muffled by the blood rushing in your ears and the way your airway was being constricted by your stress and anxieties and all the noises were so, so suffocating–

“I think I’m gonna… close my eyes for a minute…” You mumble breathlessly, closing your eyes and crumpling like a wet tissue.

–

A/n 

Yayyy I’m back on the grinddddd!!!
I’ll see you in the next chapter,

Ryoko

Chapter Text

You wake up, soaked in sweat and sunlight. 

“The fuck—“ You slur out, sitting up quickly. 

A rich voice rings out to the left of you. “Calm down. You’re safe here.”

Haha, last time you believed that you basically got kidnapped by a vampire. Very polite, very demure. 

“Where am I…” You ask in a mumble, laying back down. 

“You’re in my family’s house.” He replies. 

“And where’s your house? Do not say next to your neighbor’s house for the love of everything good.” You groan, squeezing your eyes shut.

The boy chuckles, his voice carrying an effortless charm. “We’re in Paris, near the Seine.” He pauses, then adds, “My name’s Olivier, by the way.”

You blink open one eye to glance at him. Olivier—Mr. Perfect Hair and Honey Voice—sits by the window, bathed in morning light that highlights his tousled hair and composed demeanor. If the vampires didn’t get you, the heart attacks from meeting these outrageously good-looking people just might.

“...Right. Nice to meet you.” You turn your head to stare at the ceiling, piecing together fragments of memory. “Wait. You’re the one I crashed into last night.”

He nods, his gaze calm but probing. “You looked like you needed help, so I brought you here.”

“Did I ask for help?” you grumble, tugging at the blanket.

Olivier raises an eyebrow, unruffled. “No, but you collapsed in the street. I wasn’t about to leave you there.”

Touché. You can’t argue with that.

After a long moment of silence, you lift your hands, wincing as you stretch them. The bandages, already loose, unravel slightly.

His eyes narrow. “Those injuries… they’re not recent, are they?”

You shrug nonchalantly, rolling out of bed to inspect the room. The space is tidy and elegant, with minimal decoration—a stark contrast to the mess of your previous "home." “What about them?”

“They look like they’ve been reopened a few times,” Olivier remarks, his tone cautious but curious. “Did you… get into a fight recently?”

You laugh dryly, avoiding his gaze. “Something like that. Anyway, thanks for the hospitality, but I should get going.”

He stands, blocking your path. “Where are you planning to go?”

“Anywhere but here,” you mutter.

Olivier sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not very trusting, are you?”

“No offense, but after the week I’ve had, I’m not exactly ready to hand over my life story to a stranger.”

He doesn’t press on what you just said, and just sighs. “Listen, I don’t care what your week or what your agenda is, but I’m not letting you leave till you’re fully healed. It’s the least I can do.” 

“Er… Fine.” You huff, realizing you felt hungry.

Even after all these years, you still hate the feeling of hunger. It made you feel disgustingly human.

He takes your grudging acceptance as a victory, his lips curling into a small smile. “Good. Follow me.”

Oh boy was he stunning. 

You trail behind him reluctantly, your muscles sore as you were trying to make sense of the events that brought you here.

Each step feels heavier, not because of exhaustion but because of the gnawing feeling that you’re far from safe, despite Olivier’s beautiful presence.

The dining area is as elegant as the rest of the house, with a polished wooden table set beneath a chandelier. The scent of freshly baked bread and something sweet wafts through the air.

Olivier glances over his shoulder, amusement flickering in his gaze. “Hungry, huh?”

You scowl. “Shut up.”

He smirks but says nothing, pulling out a chair for you. You hesitate before sitting down, feeling uncomfortably exposed in this unfamiliar setting.

As a servant—or maybe another family member—sets a plate before you, you eye the food suspiciously. It looks normal enough: croissants, fruit, some sort of jam. 

But after everything you’ve endured, nothing feels harmless anymore.

“It’s not poisoned,” Olivier says dryly, taking a seat across from you.

Ah, you're getting deja vu. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone said that before trying to kill me,” you mutter under your breath, grabbing a croissant and biting into it begrudgingly.

Olivier’s eyebrows raise, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he sips from a cup of tea, studying you over the rim.

“So,” he starts casually, “where are you from? Not from here, surely…”

You pause mid-bite, debating how much to tell him. “Somewhere,” you say finally.

“Somewhere?” His curiosity seems sarcastic. “I can only wonder where that is. What brings you to Paris?”

“Tourism,” you reply instantly, the lie slipping off your tongue with practiced ease.

Olivier leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Tourism. Alone. And injured.”

You shrug, feigning indifference. “Accidents happen.”

His gaze sharpens, but his tone remains neutral. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Your grip on the croissant tightens slightly, but you force yourself to stay calm. “It’s hard to keep my composure when I’m starving and sitting across from one of the most stunning men of all time.”

Olivier chokes on the sweet, light air. “ You— Pardon?! ” he sputters, his face blooming the color of sakura petals. 

He takes a minute to compose himself again while a tiny smile creeps onto your lips. 

“ Ahem, if you’re planning to wander Paris with no plan, no money, and a bunch of reopened wounds, you might want to reconsider.”

You glare at him, but his words hit a little too close to home.

“Fine,” you grumble, finishing your croissant. “What do you suggest, oh wise charitable Olivier?”

He leans forward, his smile widening. “Stay here. At least until you figure out your next move.” His sharp eyes meet yours

You open your mouth to protest, but the truth is, you have no better options. Not yet, anyway.

“Whatever,” you mutter, slumping back in your chair. “But don’t get any ideas.”

Olivier chuckles softly, his gaze lingering on you. “You’re a peculiar one, you know that?”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” You push your plate away and stand, the weight of exhaustion still tugging at you. “What’s there to do in this place, again?”

“Hm… would you enjoy a stroll downtown, with a handsome fellow, perhaps?” he inquires, earning himself a sharp glare.

“Ha ha. Very funny.” You roll your eyes. 

–

A/n

Can you tell I really like Olivier?

I’m super excited to introduce more characters, especially since instead of following the canon story to a T, I’m going to be taking a different approach.

This story is all about [Name] finding a home in an unknown world, and how each person she meets will shape her as a person.

I’ll see you in the next chapter,

Ryoko

Chapter Text

Years have passed. 

You’ve joined the chasseurs, an organization under the church that hunts and kills vampires with specialized weapons and the such.

Overall, it was pretty fun stuff.

You also discovered that Olivier, your current bestie, is one of these… What do they call them? Paladins? Well, he’s Olivier of Obsidian. Which… isn’t a gemstone, unlike everyone else’s titles but it fits him. 

You also met a few others, like Roland of Jasper and Astolfo of Garnet, but Olivier is your favorite. After all, who doesn’t like a pretty face?

The cool air of twilight hits your face, grounding you.

You shiver but shrug it off, wandering through the cobblestone streets. The city feels endless, its winding alleys luring you into a rhythm of aimless exploration.

And then you see it—the silhouette of a church, its spire piercing the heavens like a dagger. You feel drawn to it, though you’re not entirely sure why.

You slowly enter the building, examining the stained glass windows with awe, completely immersed in how they looked in the moonlight, the milky light of the moon spilling in like dye blooming in water, until–

CRASH!!!

“Not this shit again,” You groan, turning around.

As you turn, you see two men, one slightly younger and the other around your age, you assume.

“Yo…” You stand over the white-haired one, poking his cheek.“Are you, like… alive? I can only assume you fell from high up– Eek!” 

Suddenly, his eyes shoot open and he sits up, stiff as a log.

Yeah, who could have predicted that?

He turns to you. “Huh? Who are you?”

“A tourist.” You shrug, a smile that didn’t really convey one single emotion playing on your lips.

“Why do I not believe that…” He shakes his head. “Whatever.” He stares up at the gaping hole in the roof, and further beyond that.

The blue moon.

“Ah, it’s a blue moon. I didn’t notice…” You mumble. “Beautiful, ain’t it?” You grin.

The white-haired boy can only sweatdrop. “Yeah…”

And then you both fell into a comfortable silence.

Well, that was until the second one woke up.

“AH! I’m still alive!?” He asks, talking to no one in particular. He cackles. “How strange! Ah, amazing!” You and the white-haired boy both stare at him as his giggles die down.

You raise an eyebrow at the dramatic display. “Well, someone’s enthusiastic about surviving.”

The second guy—black-haired, pale, and obviously not all there—turns to you with a grin so wide it’s almost unsettling. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You glance at the white-haired boy, who looks like he’s used to this kind of behavior. “Friend of yours?”

The white-haired boy sighs, running a hand through his hair. “No… Just an acquaintance, you could say.”

“I am Vanitas!” the black-haired one proclaims, gesturing grandly to himself as if announcing his presence to an adoring crowd. “A vampire doctor! Despite being a mere human, I am able to cure vampires of their curses! A pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle.”

Damn. He was telling the truth too. Was this guy insane or something? From your knowledge, there was no way to restore a vampire’s true name.

“Uh-huh…” You cross your arms, keeping up an unimpressed facade. “And your buddy here?”

The white-haired one blinks, almost caught off guard. “Noé Archiviste.” He stands, brushing dust off his coat. “And you are…?”

You pause, debating what to share. “Just call me [Name].” You glance at Vanitas, who’s now inspecting the stained glass windows like they’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. “So, what brings you two here at crash into a church o’clock? Falling off an airship?”

Noé looks sheepish, scratching the back of his head. “Uh… actually, yes.”

You blink. “I was joking.”

“Well, we were thrown off,” Vanitas adds nonchalantly, turning back to you with a smirk. “But it’s fine. We’re both alive, so I’d say it was a success.”

“Right…” You narrow your eyes at him. “Do you always drag strangers into deadly situations, or is this a special occasion?”

Noé groans. “You have no idea.”

Before you can respond, the sound of hurried footsteps echoes through the church. Instinctively, your hand goes to the weapon at your side—a hunter’s reflex.

The door bursts open, and two chasseurs rush in, their weapons drawn. They spot you first, then the two strangers. “[Name]! Are you alright? We heard a commotion.”

You sigh exasperatedly and meet the chasseurs at the grandiose doors, trying to convince them you had the situation under control.

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, stepping between them and the two newcomers. “Stand down.”

“But—”

“Stand. Down.” Your tone leaves no room for argument, and the chasseurs exchange uneasy glances before lowering their weapons.

You sigh, eyeing the chasseurs still lingering near the door. “I’ll handle this.”

 They hesitate but eventually nod, leaving the church.

Once they’re gone, you cross your arms and glare at the two men. “You’ve got ten seconds to convince me not to report this to Olivier. Start talking.”

–

A/n

GUESS WHO FINALLY FINISHED A CHAPTER

If you’re impatient like I am when it comes to new content, I have another fic that I’m currently updating weekly! 

For now, this work will have sporadic updates, but I’ll try my best to write a chapter at least every month while aiming for every other week. 

I’ll see you in the next chapter,

Ryoko