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Dear God―――
I understand that this is a sinful wish.
But please……
Somehow, break his mother’s curse
Let his heart become calm.
Return him to the way he was every day,
Mischievous and sometimes spoiled like a child
Let him live……
I am giving you my life.
So please, God―――
Ayato remembers his mother’s heartbeat well: that irritating, erratic, disgusting timing. Just when it seems as to have stopped, it begins to rapidly beat out of time as if furiously fighting to have its existence known. It reminds Ayato of his own pathetic self—of course he hates it.
Thick, dark crimson liquid gurgles out from the center of the ribcage of the girl Ayato loves the most. He laps it up like a death row inmate savoring his last meal, repeating “You’re mine, you’re only mine” over Yui’s body like a prayer.
Yui had always insisted on prayers. She was the most devout person Ayato knew (though he has to admit that isn’t much of a distinction considering the people he knows). She’d say grace at the dinner table, blissfully ignoring the six vampires in attendance. She’d keep that rosary in her pocket—every time it fell to the ground when he was feeling her up, it was the quickest and most effective mood-killer.
Worse, she’d sneak off to the local church every chance she got—Ayato hated that, as it took her attention away from him. ”It’s not God you should be appealing to, Chichinashi. It’s me.” he’d declare with a childish grin upon finding her knelt in front of the altar. Like his brothers, Ayato considered himself a walking testament against the existence of God.
Yui didn’t like that so much at first, but she eventually took to replying, “Okay, okay, Ayato-kun. I remember. I’m sorry for being mistaken.” as she patted his head gently. Were it anyone else making the gesture, he would have ripped their arm clean out of its socket, but somehow he didn’t mind so much when it was her. Ayato had the feeling that Yui was speaking to him as if trying to pacify a child—it both infuriated and comforted him. As the days went on, though, he found himself drawn more and more to her for comfort. Of course, he’d never ever admit it.
Yet the more he loved Yui and the more he wanted her to love him back, the more distant she became, drawing away from his harsh, overpowering flame. At times she’d be her usual kind, gentle self, but at other times, out of nowhere, Yui would snap at Ayato sarcastically. She’d reject him, scorn him—hate him. Those times, Ayato was crueler to Yui than he normally was. He no longer cared about bullying her for fun, he only wanted to hurt her, to make her feel pain as he felt pain. Her crying face afterwards excited him, but it also made him feel incredibly guilty. Still, he’d reason with himself, it was her fault for touching his sore spot. Every time she denied him, he was reminded of his weakness, of his powerlessness as a child.
Of his mother.
“That’s right… Those weren’t Yui’s words…” Ayato stops his feast in a stupor. “That bitch’s heart was awakening… So I stopped it…” His head clears of mist at last and suddenly he’s all too aware of how eerily quiet it is. There’s no sounds of a heartbeat, no breathing. Yui’s normal consternations and shy denials that he loves so much are nowhere to be seen, heard, or enjoyed.
Slowly—so impossibly slowly—Ayato cranes his neck downward. The long knife is still upright, perpendicular to and stuck through Yui’s body. The blood is still gushing out like a stream.
Dazed anger and confusion are replaced by panic, a panic the likes of which Ayato has never known. He’s never had to panic. Ayato pulls the knife out of her chest and throws it behind him. The knife makes a wet-sounding smack against the wall as yet more blood drains forth from the wound. Ayato rips the jacket right off his back and presses it against Yui’s chest—it’s like paper against a hurricane. His vision blurring, the last thing Ayato sees clearly is Yui’s mouth frozen in a smile—a smile his mother never once showed him.
That’s when it really hits Ayato that Yui’s gone. And then it hits him that it’s his fault.
Ayato jumps backwards off the bed, instantly on his feet. The last remnants of Yui’s lifeforce are snaking down from the top of the sheets down the bed skirt to the floor, pooling in a red-brown puddle. Ayato runs through the grief stages in quick succession, but stops just before acceptance. He can’t just accept this. She can’t just go and die without his permission. He still needs her.
Blood and gore are nothing new to a vampire always living on the line between life and death, but there’s so much… Ayato suddenly thinks back to biology, to his conversations with his brothers, and morbidly recalls that the human body carries about five and a half liters of blood. Ayato wonders how much she has left and despite his horror, he feels thirst burning his throat, beckoning him to drink his fill.
“Hey, Ayato-kun~ Did you know that we could be dads right now if we wanted?” In the midst of Ayato’s dread and helplessness, he recalls Laito’s voice telling him something on a whim long ago.
“Ha~ah? Why the hell would you wanna be a dad? You planning on knocking up some chick?”
“Not that kind of dad, stupid. You know we can turn people into vampires, right?”
“What? Really?”
“Yeah, I heard you just have to kill some—”
“Whoa, what? Stop screwing with me. I’ve never seen someone I killed get turned into a vampire.”
“You didn’t let me finish. It’s not about killing them… You kill them and then give them your blood—then our vampire blood takes over and they wake up as a vampire.”
“…how does that work? They just come back from heaven or hell just like that?”
“I dunno. I guess. I’ve never tried it~ But doesn’t it sound interesting? We should try it on someone and ask them what hell looks like.”
“Tch, like I care what hell’s like.”
“Aww, you’re no fun, Ayato-kun~”
Ayato doesn’t hesitate—he picks his knife up off the ground and sits on the bed once again at Yui’s side. He gently pries open her lips with his fingers—they’re still a little warm to the touch. Then, in one clean motion, he slashes his wrist and drizzles his cold blood into her mouth. Ayato’s not sure how to force her to swallow, not even sure if she has to, but within moments, he can see the wound on her chest close as more of his blood enters her body.
Finally, to Ayato’s embarrassment, he feels his consciousness start to fade. “Shit, I didn’t think I was this weak… Guess I’ve never lost this much blood before…” Just before he passes out, he sees Yui’s tiny, delicate pinkie finger twitch.
Ayato’s attempt at a grin manifests merely as a weak smile. It’s a good thing Yui isn’t watching.
He wonders if he should apologize later—certainly, Yui might be unhappy with being turned into a vampire.
But first, Ayato thinks he’ll ask her what God was like.