A month has passed since his week-long visit to Italy. Despite this, and even as he sits inside his home in Kurashiki, Japan, the warm echoes of Haruka’s time spent with Nino still radiate in his body. The golden glow of him has lingered, firmly centered both in Haruka’s heart and deeply within his core.
He had expected to see him in England once more before he made the preliminary move back home. But Nino had suddenly changed his plans and they hadn’t been able to meet. He decided to stay in Milan longer, and he is still there. When Haruka asked why, Nino vaguely explained that he needed to take care of some things.
He doesn’t let it show, but Haruka feels disappointed by this.
The crystal-clear sound of a chime rings out, breaking the silence of Haruka’s small office. He perks up, his response officially an ingrained behavior as if he is one of Pavlov’s dogs. He isn’t salivating (yet) but his heart unquestionably beats faster.
He is sitting on a cushion on the tatami floor with one knee drawn up, his new, shiny black smartphone on the low oak table in front of him. Nino purchased it as a surprise and had it delivered to his home. Asao taught Haruka how to use it.
It isn’t complicated and he likes being able to communicate regularly with Nino. But something about it feels invasive. As if it is covertly tracking his whereabouts and conversation at any given time. He greatly dislikes this feeling. When he expressed his concern to Asao, the manservant shrugged and said, “It probably is.” Which wasn’t helpful.
He taps and opens the device like Asao taught him. A message from Nino flashes brightly before him on the small screen.
[It’s almost time, yeah?]
Haruka looks at the clock at the top of the screen, then types his response.
[Yes. Why are you awake? It is 4am there.]
[Because I’m worried about you.]
Nino’s reply is quickly followed by another message.
[You’re not happy about this meeting.]
It’s true. He isn’t. He’s been receiving letters from Yuna for more than a year now. Although he hasn’t read a single page, it was inevitable that they would eventually cross paths. His decision to return home has only increased the likelihood. The chime rings out again.
[I wish I was there with you.]
Haruka types his response.
[I wish you were, too. But hopefully the meeting will be brief.]
Today, a meeting with Yuna. Tomorrow, an assembly with the current business leaders of Okayama, and Friday, a welcome reception in Haruka’s honor in Himeji.
Upon his return, the vampires within his realm have been much more welcoming than Haruka had anticipated. He had expected bitterness, but the overall sense within the community has been something like relief (the purebred substitute was… challenging). With Haruka’s reinstitution come many social requests, meetings and responsibilities. The weight of his position is quickly bearing down on his shoulders.
It’s overwhelming, but this is his true designation—the life that accompanies his lineage and bloodline. A life of self-sacrifice. Haruka’s family traditionally oversees both the Chūgoku and Kansai regions. This level of accountability was much less daunting when he’d been mated, and the thought of bearing it alone had been a catalyst for his leaving home after his bond had broken.
Privately, Haruka sincerely hopes that Nino finds western Japan to his liking when he visits in two months. He fully accepts that Nino has no interest in their cultural aristocracy, but simply being in his warm and vibrant presence makes circumstances much more tolerable. Even enjoyable.
The prospect of the bonding ceremony had been a thing of great foreboding. As they spent time together, researching and relishing in candid conversation, the circumstance unexpectedly become pleasant.
His phone lights up with a new message.
[Call me after she leaves. xx]
[You should be sleeping, it can wait until later.]
[Just call. I’ll be up. mmt+]
Haruka frowns, confused as he types his response.
[Nino, what does that mean?]
[Mi manchi tantissimo.]
Haruka smiles.
[I miss you, too.]
Forty minutes later, Yuna appears in the doorway to the tea room of Haruka’s estate… like a physical ghost from his despondent past. As ghosts do, she is silently watching him— cautious in a frozen, awkward moment.
She is wearing a sky-blue dress that gracefully flows just below her knees. There was a time when he loved this color on her. She knows this. It perfectly accentuates her slim waist and small, elegant frame as if it were tailored specifically to her pale body. Her shoulder-length dark brown hair is clean and lustrous, framing her oval face like a heavy curtain.
She gracefully steps down from the hardwood of the hallway and onto the lower tatami flooring of the tea room. Haruka stands, nodding politely as she reaches the small sofa opposite him. A modern wooden coffee table is set between them.
Yuna dips her head in a bow and Haruka notices that Asao has remained watchful of the situation in the doorframe behind her. His eyes are narrowed in distrust.
“Hello, Haruka…” she says, sitting on the couch. She breathes a laugh—a lighthearted, fluttery sound. “We seem a bit worse for wear, don’t we?”
It’s true. She looks pale. Gaunt. Where her eyes had once been a deep, rich brown with lovely flecks of robin’s egg blue, they are now washed out, almost milky. They look as if she’d been ill and has never properly recovered from it. Haruka is also not in optimum health, having been separated from Nino for a month now and feeding from a lower-ranked source. However, Yuna’s condition seems somewhat exaggerated in comparison.
Another oddity is her scent. In the past, Yuna’s essence had registered as sweet but zesty to Haruka’s nature—like lemon trees blossoming in the springtime. Now her scent is sour. It distinctly reminds him of the six months he’d spent violently and painfully expelling her nature from his body.
“Such is life,” Haruka says. “What can I help you with?”
She pouts, a familiar hurt in her expression. “Straight to business? As if I’m some piddling member of your aristocracy? We haven’t seen each other in seventy years. And you ignored all my letters. You sent them back.”
“I could not fathom why you would write to me in such frequent intervals, or what we would need to discuss at any length.”
“I’ve missed you.” She takes a deep breath, pinching the hem of her dress with her fingertips. “Everyone has missed you. It took me years to track you down after you left. You kept moving around.”
“It was within my right to do so.”
“I know that, Haruka, but…” She furrows her brow in obvious frustration and shakes her head. The subtle movement makes her thick hair bounce and sway. “You act as if we didn’t spend our childhood together—as if we’re strangers who only met in passing. Our parents were friends—my parents still love you. We were bonded and had a life together. I know you don’t believe me, but I loved you and cared about you very much. I still do. Why is it impossible to you that I could simultaneously love two people?”
Haruka sighs. His chest is heavy and tight. Is this her rationale? Does this justify her choices and behavior? As if loving two people reasonably allows her to orchestrate a double life. As if she is entitled to secretly, cruelly indulge in everything her heart desires. Meanwhile, Haruka received nothing. Not even the trust, transparency and confidence of a faithful mate.
Why does he need to sit here and listen to this? He feels nauseous. The flood of embarrassment and shame he’d felt back then is quickly rising up like bile in his throat.
“Yuna, why are you here?” Haruka pleads, ignoring her question. “Is this necessary? Where is Kenta, and why are you not happily bonded with him?”
She leans forward, urgency in her voice. “That’s why I tried to find you all those years and kept writing to you, because I wanted to tell you what happened. After our bond broke, Kenta and I, we—we did try to bond. But we never could. It would never take! I don’t think I can bond anymore. I think I’ve lost the ability.”
He sits with his arms folded, processing. How can you lose the ability to bond? It is an innate feature of their biology. Part of what defines them. How can something so fundamental to their species be broken?
Yuna’s voice is low, her eyes sympathetic. “I heard about how sick you became after we separated… That didn’t happen to me at all. I tried to come see you but Asao sent me away. When I came back a few months later, you were gone.”
Rubbing his palm down his face, he sighs. He needs to treat this like a professional call—like someone in his realm who requires his help and expertise. “How long did you try to form a bond with Kenta?”
“Five years. Then we gave up. He lives in Tokyo now. He’s… bonded with another vampire.”
Five years. To go so long without a successful bond is odd. In Lore and Lust, the longest any documented couple went was about two and a half years.
“And there are other things,” Yuna says quietly. “For one, my sense of taste and smell are damaged. No matter who I drink from, it tastes like dirt, and my body doesn’t properly absorb blood anymore. I always look like this, Haruka. I can’t seem to reach my optimum level of health again. I’m forever in this horrible, semi-dried-out state. Is it the same for you?”
“No. I am capable of properly absorbing blood. My senses of taste and smell are undamaged.”
“Then why do you look like this?” Yuna blinks. “Your eyes and skin tone are wrong. And I don’t know why, but I can smell you right now. You smell wonderful to me just like you always did. I haven’t been able to sense another vampire’s essence since our bond broke. Why can I still smell you?”
She never fell ill after their bond broke, but Haruka had been tragically so. Even now, Haruka’s essence is aesthetically pleasing to her, while her scent makes his stomach turn.
“Perhaps in some intrinsic way, my blood still flows through you?” Haruka reasons. “Since your body never rejected my biology, it may remain within you, causing these obstructions and malformations.”
It’s all conjecture, since this is unchartered territory. There simply isn’t any research to frame this aberrant circumstance. Haruka’s father and grandfather would have searched high and low for more instances of this had they known it possible.
“I agree with your theory,” Yuna says, never taking her milky, disturbing eyes off of him. “How do I smell to you? Am I still… Am I pleasing to you?”
He casts his gaze to the side, briefly searching for a diplomatic response. In a rare moment, he comes up empty. “No.”
She’s silent, looking down at the hem of her dress as she rubs it between her fingers. “Is it so bad that you wouldn’t want to feed from me?” she asks. “What if… what if we could fix this? What if we could sustain each other again? Help restore our bodies and natures.”
Haruka turns his nose up, his face having no sense of discretion or diplomacy today either. “Yuna, what exactly are you suggesting?”
She lifts her head, her foggy eyes serious. “I’m suggesting that we become each other’s sources again. I think, if we try, maybe we—”
“I am not interested in this arrangement.” Haruka stands from the couch. The absurdity of it feels like an electric shock to his system. “I ask that you leave my home now. I don’t believe I can help you.”
“Haruka. We should at least give this a try. I can assist you with running the realm again. You’ll need the support. Please at least consider—”
“That you would have the audacity to come to my home and request anything of me is astonishing. You only seek my help because your preferred source has abandoned you. I am not something to be tossed away and picked back up again at your convenience.”
“No! That’s not how I see you.” Yuna shakes her head, her thick hair swaying from the dramatic gesture as she stands. “We—we made a vow to each other. If you’re right and your blood still flows within me, it is your responsibility—”
“Do not speak to me about ‘vows’ and ‘responsibility.’ Leave, Yuna.”
His eyes burn and glow to life from frustration, but the heat of it is low, emphasizing his malnourished state. Asao steps down into the room, his broad frame imposing as he stands beside Yuna. She bows in a short nod, but when their eyes meet again, she speaks quickly. “I’m coming to the ceremony in Himeji. Please just consider—”
Asao steps in front of her, then gestures toward the door. “Enough, Yuna.”
She drops her shoulders, acquiesced as she turns to leave. When she’s gone, Haruka crumbles back down to the couch. He lays his head back and closes his eyes, feeling physically hollow and emotionally drained.
In the distance, he hears the pristine chime of his new phone. He doesn’t move because he is miserable. There’s no use spreading discontent, so he sits in the tea room alone for a long time. Breathing.