Time of Sorrow; hc_bingo
Author: hanakoanime
Fandoms: Utaites
H/C: Betrayal (Wild Card), Attacked by a creature, Blood loss, Forced body modification
Title: Time of Sorrow
Medium: Fic
Rating: PG
Warnings: Heavily implied gore/gory thoughts
Notes: Loosely based off the song "Time of Sorrow" by Victon (I saw a line and ran with it.)
She laughed softly as she led him away from the festivities, telling him that she wanted to spend some time alone.
(It never occurred to him to alert anyone that he was going.)
“I think you’ll love it,” she said, smiling as they stopped somewhere dark and a bit spooky. He wasn’t too afraid because Lon looked calm.
There was a subtle shift in her eyes and if he thought about it more, he would have realized something was going to happen.
“Really think you’ll like this,” she murmured more to herself as she stepped away from him, graceful as always.
He was about to reach out and pull her close to him-a shield, maybe-but she disappeared too quickly.
And then a growl pulled his attention away from her as he focused on surviving.
That was all he remembered before waking up in a dark alleyway-different than the place Lon had led him to. He felt light-headed, hungry for something, and he also felt disoriented.
He couldn’t remember anything after the growl. He couldn’t even remember what it was that attacked him.
“You’re awake.”
And he turned his head to face a man, more beautiful than any man he’s seen.
“You don’t remember,” he said, stunned.
“Who are you?”
The man approached closer and closer until Itou Kashitarou could clearly see his shoes, mere inches away from his face.
“My name is not important.”
He wanted to argue, but he couldn’t focus long enough to think about why he should know his name. He longed for something to drink, to soothe the burning in his throat. (He was so thirsty.)
“Thirsty?” the man asked.
He tried his best to nodded, and then the man reached for his hand and easily pulled him up. It scared him a bit, but he couldn’t escape. Not now that this man had ahold on him. It didn’t escape him that this man wasn’t human.
“Are you human?” he asked stupidly.
The man looked at him weirdly. “Do you not know what you are?”
“What I am?”
“Who the hell attacked you?! And why am I stuck cleaning up the mess?!” It wasn’t that loud, more like a mutter, but Itou Kashitarou heard it clearly. “You’re a vampire, a product of being attacked by a vampire. Looks like they didn’t drain enough of you to die…”
“Vampires aren’t real.” He was confident as he said this, but there was a small part of him that doubted that conviction. Small enough that he could suppress it and ignore it.
The man raised a brow, as if he was questioning everything about Itou Kashitarou-and he couldn’t blame him. It would explain a lot yet not enough if he was a vampire now, but he still didn’t know what happened after the growling.
“What do you remember?” the man asked suddenly.
“My friend, Lon, had wanted to show me something, and I had assumed it was to talk about this thing between us, but… she laughed and disappeared.” It was hard to ignore how crippling that was to his esteem. But he continued on. “There was growling, and that’s it.”
The man didn’t say anything, so Itou Kashitarou looked up from his feet to see his arms covered in scars-bite marks-to his face. Something in him told him that this man standing before him was dangerous, having lived attacks that would’ve killed weaker men.
This man made him wary, and he watched for a sign of immediate danger. Itou Kashitarou wasn’t delusional enough to think he’d make it out alive, but he’d at the very least try to rip him apart as best as he could.
As if he could read his mind, he said, “I’m not going to kill you. If you don’t give me reason to.”
He felt tenser, ready to strike.
“I’ll teach you the ways of our life.”
He couldn’t help but think that there was a catch to the offer. “What do you want?”
The man laughed, and he said, “You’re not as stupid as you look. I want that girl dead.”
“Lon,” he asked as if he didn’t know, yet a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him so.
“Of course. She’s a pain, creating babies and leaving them alone. I have to clean up the mess, and I’m tired of it.”
The man’s smile was sharp, a dangerous edge to it that made his skin crawl.
“What do you say?”
He felt backed into a corner-life with a dangerous man that wanted him to kill someone that gave him joy (that destroyed his chance at a normal life, forced him to live as an undead creature) or death. “What’s your name,” he uttered, feeling stupidly brave.
“Feeling brave, are ya? Or maybe suicidal.” The man gave him a once-over, his blood red eyes gleaming under the moonlight. “You can call me Amatsuki. And don’t bother introducing yourself. I already know your name.”
“How?”
Amatsuki ignored the question. “You’re weirdly aware for a newborn. But we should get you fed soon.”
It was as if his words were a reminder that he hasn’t found anything to quell the burning in his throat. It ached fiercely, demanding to be soothed.
“All you need to do is hunt,” Amatsuki said softly, his voice almost taunting him to go after his prey.
He had gotten better at being a vampire, hiding from the sun and choosing people who wouldn’t be missed if they went missing. It was easier to ignore how he was killing humans (“it’s like eating meat,” Amatsuki had said), but bitter resentment started to build in him, reminding him every so often that it was her fault he was like this, skulking in the shadows and waiting for prey to stumble upon him.
She ruined his life, reducing him to this creature that lived to harm people, and he hated her for it.
He wanted to make her bleed, rip her throat out, and watch as she begged for mercy. And he would win in a fight against her.
Amatsuki made certain he could fight other vampires.
Itou Kashitarou could remember the first fight he had, the thrill he felt in the moment as he ripped limb after limb off his opponent before becoming disgusted with himself for feeling good about destroying someone.
It had taken Amatsuki weeks to coax him out of his self-loathing-him and his thirst-and as he was forced to fight more and more vampires, he found himself becoming numb to the disgust that used to threaten to overwhelm him when he ripped apart vampires.
It was morbidly fascinating watching the limbs writhe separately from the torso.
He could admit that he lost his own humanity in an effort to live in this world that he was thrust into. There was something that initially disgusted him about drinking human blood that he could vaguely remember, the memory blurry and dirty, but he found himself craving it more and more.
Amatsuki had made a vague comment that he didn’t know what blood really tasted like, that he only got the dirty version because it was easier to hunt those who tainted their blood with alcohol and drugs, but Itou Kashitarou didn’t mind. That “dirty blood” tasted good enough to quench his thirst.
There was something freeing about the depravity he was experiencing. He never allowed himself to be this dark, to fulfill the darkest fantasies that lingered in the back of his mind, pushed so far back that he never really thought about it except in the night when he was alone in bed.
His friend, his mentor and savior, recognized a kindred spirit-or at least that’s what Amatsuki said. Itou Kashitarou thought he knew him well, but he also knew that Amatsuki hid things that could be detrimental to his well-being.
A kindred spirit-Amatsuki was one of the most brutal vampires he met. His mentor had mentioned a clan of vampires in Italy, overseeing how they interacted with the public, and he remembered hearing someone mention them in conjunction with Amatsuki.
They said that Amatsuki was crueler than the Volturri, kidnapping soldiers and then destroying the useless ones.
There was another vampire with them for now, a younger boy than himself-Sou, his name. He had been a victim that hadn’t been drained enough. (“Like you,” Amatsuki had said when discussing the nature of Sou’s creation.)
Amatsuki ensured they would split off eventually, finding new partners, romantic most likely, and yet Itou Kashitarou couldn’t see it happening.
He was monstrous-not because he was a vampire, but because he killed indiscriminately, destroying lives that could have been something. He couldn’t see how anyone could love someone who felt joy at the pain of others.
Sometimes, he didn’t recognize himself. And maybe that was the scariest thing that happened after that night.
It was a vicious cycle of him finding joy with creating death and misery, and then him finding some form of self-loathing that resulted in him hating Lon. The intensity of it never faded nor did it grow, but it continued steadily over the years.
He still daydreamed of making her beg for death. He was hungry for revenge, and he knew that he could wait forever if that’s what it took for him to kill her.
Itou Kashitarou stood over her, grinning wildly like a madman. These years of hunting her down, of wanting to have a taste of revenge, paid off, and he had her at his mercy.
He knew she was like him, could smell it.
He could rip her arms off first, the agony of that would then lead to him slowly, methodically, ripping her fingers off and then her nails. He considered letting her live and giving her a chance to escape to find her again. He could pull that off.
“You loved me,” she said when they first met.
“Loved,” he echoed hollowly. She was still as beautiful as he remembered, but her beauty was tainted by her deviousness, her toxicity that made him like this.
She looked up at him, defiantly and deathly afraid.
He could see it in her eyes.
“Kill me, then. You owe me that much.”
“I owe you nothing.” For all the revenge he wanted against her, he could conjure up no strong emotion when it came to thinking about anything but revenge. Revenge played a huge part in making him a powerful vampire, consumed his thoughts entirely, that he could not think of anything else.
“Then let me go!”
He smiled, a mockery of a smile, really, and he stared at her. “Oh, I will. I think this game is fun,” he said, a lighter lilt in his voice than the monotone he used to talk to her just a moment prior.
Itou Kashitarou could see her trying to contain her flinch, and failing, as she realized that she wouldn’t be able to get away from him. It might’ve terrified her, thinking about how he could destroy her as she was helpless against him, but he didn’t care enough.
He turned away from her, ripped to shreds but slowly pulling herself back together, and left the building. He had a lighter in hand, in case he decided to burn her to ashes, but he left it in his pocket instead of burning the whole building down.
It was too easy to walk away from everything.
He didn’t show it to her, but it didn’t make his life any better destroying her this way. It might have soothed the hurt temporarily, but that sense of betrayal, of being led to somewhere that was dangerous for him just because she was bored, was forever burned into his mind, and he would always remember it, remember her.
Fandoms: Utaites
H/C: Betrayal (Wild Card), Attacked by a creature, Blood loss, Forced body modification
Title: Time of Sorrow
Medium: Fic
Rating: PG
Warnings: Heavily implied gore/gory thoughts
Notes: Loosely based off the song "Time of Sorrow" by Victon (I saw a line and ran with it.)
She laughed softly as she led him away from the festivities, telling him that she wanted to spend some time alone.
(It never occurred to him to alert anyone that he was going.)
“I think you’ll love it,” she said, smiling as they stopped somewhere dark and a bit spooky. He wasn’t too afraid because Lon looked calm.
There was a subtle shift in her eyes and if he thought about it more, he would have realized something was going to happen.
“Really think you’ll like this,” she murmured more to herself as she stepped away from him, graceful as always.
He was about to reach out and pull her close to him-a shield, maybe-but she disappeared too quickly.
And then a growl pulled his attention away from her as he focused on surviving.
That was all he remembered before waking up in a dark alleyway-different than the place Lon had led him to. He felt light-headed, hungry for something, and he also felt disoriented.
He couldn’t remember anything after the growl. He couldn’t even remember what it was that attacked him.
“You’re awake.”
And he turned his head to face a man, more beautiful than any man he’s seen.
“You don’t remember,” he said, stunned.
“Who are you?”
The man approached closer and closer until Itou Kashitarou could clearly see his shoes, mere inches away from his face.
“My name is not important.”
He wanted to argue, but he couldn’t focus long enough to think about why he should know his name. He longed for something to drink, to soothe the burning in his throat. (He was so thirsty.)
“Thirsty?” the man asked.
He tried his best to nodded, and then the man reached for his hand and easily pulled him up. It scared him a bit, but he couldn’t escape. Not now that this man had ahold on him. It didn’t escape him that this man wasn’t human.
“Are you human?” he asked stupidly.
The man looked at him weirdly. “Do you not know what you are?”
“What I am?”
“Who the hell attacked you?! And why am I stuck cleaning up the mess?!” It wasn’t that loud, more like a mutter, but Itou Kashitarou heard it clearly. “You’re a vampire, a product of being attacked by a vampire. Looks like they didn’t drain enough of you to die…”
“Vampires aren’t real.” He was confident as he said this, but there was a small part of him that doubted that conviction. Small enough that he could suppress it and ignore it.
The man raised a brow, as if he was questioning everything about Itou Kashitarou-and he couldn’t blame him. It would explain a lot yet not enough if he was a vampire now, but he still didn’t know what happened after the growling.
“What do you remember?” the man asked suddenly.
“My friend, Lon, had wanted to show me something, and I had assumed it was to talk about this thing between us, but… she laughed and disappeared.” It was hard to ignore how crippling that was to his esteem. But he continued on. “There was growling, and that’s it.”
The man didn’t say anything, so Itou Kashitarou looked up from his feet to see his arms covered in scars-bite marks-to his face. Something in him told him that this man standing before him was dangerous, having lived attacks that would’ve killed weaker men.
This man made him wary, and he watched for a sign of immediate danger. Itou Kashitarou wasn’t delusional enough to think he’d make it out alive, but he’d at the very least try to rip him apart as best as he could.
As if he could read his mind, he said, “I’m not going to kill you. If you don’t give me reason to.”
He felt tenser, ready to strike.
“I’ll teach you the ways of our life.”
He couldn’t help but think that there was a catch to the offer. “What do you want?”
The man laughed, and he said, “You’re not as stupid as you look. I want that girl dead.”
“Lon,” he asked as if he didn’t know, yet a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him so.
“Of course. She’s a pain, creating babies and leaving them alone. I have to clean up the mess, and I’m tired of it.”
The man’s smile was sharp, a dangerous edge to it that made his skin crawl.
“What do you say?”
He felt backed into a corner-life with a dangerous man that wanted him to kill someone that gave him joy (that destroyed his chance at a normal life, forced him to live as an undead creature) or death. “What’s your name,” he uttered, feeling stupidly brave.
“Feeling brave, are ya? Or maybe suicidal.” The man gave him a once-over, his blood red eyes gleaming under the moonlight. “You can call me Amatsuki. And don’t bother introducing yourself. I already know your name.”
“How?”
Amatsuki ignored the question. “You’re weirdly aware for a newborn. But we should get you fed soon.”
It was as if his words were a reminder that he hasn’t found anything to quell the burning in his throat. It ached fiercely, demanding to be soothed.
“All you need to do is hunt,” Amatsuki said softly, his voice almost taunting him to go after his prey.
He had gotten better at being a vampire, hiding from the sun and choosing people who wouldn’t be missed if they went missing. It was easier to ignore how he was killing humans (“it’s like eating meat,” Amatsuki had said), but bitter resentment started to build in him, reminding him every so often that it was her fault he was like this, skulking in the shadows and waiting for prey to stumble upon him.
She ruined his life, reducing him to this creature that lived to harm people, and he hated her for it.
He wanted to make her bleed, rip her throat out, and watch as she begged for mercy. And he would win in a fight against her.
Amatsuki made certain he could fight other vampires.
Itou Kashitarou could remember the first fight he had, the thrill he felt in the moment as he ripped limb after limb off his opponent before becoming disgusted with himself for feeling good about destroying someone.
It had taken Amatsuki weeks to coax him out of his self-loathing-him and his thirst-and as he was forced to fight more and more vampires, he found himself becoming numb to the disgust that used to threaten to overwhelm him when he ripped apart vampires.
It was morbidly fascinating watching the limbs writhe separately from the torso.
He could admit that he lost his own humanity in an effort to live in this world that he was thrust into. There was something that initially disgusted him about drinking human blood that he could vaguely remember, the memory blurry and dirty, but he found himself craving it more and more.
Amatsuki had made a vague comment that he didn’t know what blood really tasted like, that he only got the dirty version because it was easier to hunt those who tainted their blood with alcohol and drugs, but Itou Kashitarou didn’t mind. That “dirty blood” tasted good enough to quench his thirst.
There was something freeing about the depravity he was experiencing. He never allowed himself to be this dark, to fulfill the darkest fantasies that lingered in the back of his mind, pushed so far back that he never really thought about it except in the night when he was alone in bed.
His friend, his mentor and savior, recognized a kindred spirit-or at least that’s what Amatsuki said. Itou Kashitarou thought he knew him well, but he also knew that Amatsuki hid things that could be detrimental to his well-being.
A kindred spirit-Amatsuki was one of the most brutal vampires he met. His mentor had mentioned a clan of vampires in Italy, overseeing how they interacted with the public, and he remembered hearing someone mention them in conjunction with Amatsuki.
They said that Amatsuki was crueler than the Volturri, kidnapping soldiers and then destroying the useless ones.
There was another vampire with them for now, a younger boy than himself-Sou, his name. He had been a victim that hadn’t been drained enough. (“Like you,” Amatsuki had said when discussing the nature of Sou’s creation.)
Amatsuki ensured they would split off eventually, finding new partners, romantic most likely, and yet Itou Kashitarou couldn’t see it happening.
He was monstrous-not because he was a vampire, but because he killed indiscriminately, destroying lives that could have been something. He couldn’t see how anyone could love someone who felt joy at the pain of others.
Sometimes, he didn’t recognize himself. And maybe that was the scariest thing that happened after that night.
It was a vicious cycle of him finding joy with creating death and misery, and then him finding some form of self-loathing that resulted in him hating Lon. The intensity of it never faded nor did it grow, but it continued steadily over the years.
He still daydreamed of making her beg for death. He was hungry for revenge, and he knew that he could wait forever if that’s what it took for him to kill her.
Itou Kashitarou stood over her, grinning wildly like a madman. These years of hunting her down, of wanting to have a taste of revenge, paid off, and he had her at his mercy.
He knew she was like him, could smell it.
He could rip her arms off first, the agony of that would then lead to him slowly, methodically, ripping her fingers off and then her nails. He considered letting her live and giving her a chance to escape to find her again. He could pull that off.
“You loved me,” she said when they first met.
“Loved,” he echoed hollowly. She was still as beautiful as he remembered, but her beauty was tainted by her deviousness, her toxicity that made him like this.
She looked up at him, defiantly and deathly afraid.
He could see it in her eyes.
“Kill me, then. You owe me that much.”
“I owe you nothing.” For all the revenge he wanted against her, he could conjure up no strong emotion when it came to thinking about anything but revenge. Revenge played a huge part in making him a powerful vampire, consumed his thoughts entirely, that he could not think of anything else.
“Then let me go!”
He smiled, a mockery of a smile, really, and he stared at her. “Oh, I will. I think this game is fun,” he said, a lighter lilt in his voice than the monotone he used to talk to her just a moment prior.
Itou Kashitarou could see her trying to contain her flinch, and failing, as she realized that she wouldn’t be able to get away from him. It might’ve terrified her, thinking about how he could destroy her as she was helpless against him, but he didn’t care enough.
He turned away from her, ripped to shreds but slowly pulling herself back together, and left the building. He had a lighter in hand, in case he decided to burn her to ashes, but he left it in his pocket instead of burning the whole building down.
It was too easy to walk away from everything.
He didn’t show it to her, but it didn’t make his life any better destroying her this way. It might have soothed the hurt temporarily, but that sense of betrayal, of being led to somewhere that was dangerous for him just because she was bored, was forever burned into his mind, and he would always remember it, remember her.