[fic] KHR - Rules of Conduct

[lysapadin]

Title: Rules of Conduct
Characters: Hibari, Yamamoto
Summary: It's time Yamamoto began to learn the rules.
Notes: More vampire AU! [Series Index] Teen for vampires on the hunt, with all the blood and such that implies; crazy!Yamamoto. 3230 words.

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Rules of Conduct

"No," Hibari said when Takeshi would have gone straight for Byakuran's territory as soon as the sun sank below the horizon. He showed his fangs when Takeshi growled his protest. "All that will get you is the true death." Upon a moment's reflection, he added, "And it will amuse Byakuran."

Takeshi growled at Byakuran's name, not quite able to help himself, and glared at Hibari until he realized that the other was ignoring him. Finally, he demanded, "Why?"

Hibari was standing in the open doorway, gazing out across the garden at the heart of his compound. It was dark, lit by starlight, though that hardly mattered. At length he said, "You're still a fledgling. A very young fledgling. You won't be ready for Byakuran for some time yet."

Takeshi growled again, but the words dredged up old memories of Gokudera trying to tell him about the nature of vampires. What had he said…? It had something to do with age and frenzy and weakness. Though Takeshi tried, it wasn't coming back to him. But then, he hadn't been paying good attention to Gokudera at that point. It hadn't seemed particularly relevant.

Time to ask Hibari instead. "How long am I going to be a fledgling?"

Hibari purred like the question pleased him. "It varies," he said. "It will depend on how long it takes you to learn to control your hunger. When you can think clearly, even with blood in the air, then you're no longer a fledgling. You're still young, of course, but strength will come with time."

That wasn't really an answer, though. Takeshi gritted his teeth and tried again. "How. Long?"

Hibari, his hands tucked into his sleeves, turned away from the garden. "It takes however long it takes," he said. "Generally not long, though. A few years, perhaps."

The snarl erupted out of Takeshi, unbidden. "A few years?" His hands curled, wanting to slash the chill little smirk off Hibari's face; it was only with difficulty that he kept himself from the attempt. "A few years is not long?"

The worst of it was that Hibari only look tolerantly amused. "Perhaps it is, for humans. Time doesn't mean the same thing for us. You would do well to remember that." He withdrew his hands from his sleeves. "Byakuran will keep. But come. It's time to hunt."

And he took no notice of the way Takeshi growled at him as he took to the air.

But it didn't really matter how much he growled at Hibari; Takeshi followed him, however reluctantly, because the hunt called and his hands and face still ached, not fully healed, and he was hungry.

It made him shudder, though, to know what that hunger meant, what he'd become. It had seemed like a better alternative to dying at the time, but really, was he any different from—from—

Takeshi could feel the roaring in his ears, much louder than the wind of his and Hibari's swift flight. He was tempted to let himself fall into it; it would be so much easier not to have to think, to go back to reacting on instinct and not worrying about what he'd become. So much easier not to have to think about Tousan, about what Tousan would have said about his choice. Everything had been so much easier before he'd remembered.

Ahead of him, Hibari pulled up and hovered casually in the air. The moon was just rising on the horizon, half-full and waxing, and it outlined him in gold. When Takeshi had caught up with him, he gestured at the ground far below them. "Look," he said, which Takeshi could not recall his having done before. He looked: the city lay spread out below them, aglow with lights. It was bordered on the east by mountains whose steep sides were thickly forested; the forest embraced the southern side of the city as well, but the city opened up to farmland in the west and north. They had hunted in the north for the most part, he recalled, in the north where there were warehouses and clubs. Before, when Tousan had still been there, he'd stayed away from the north end of town, because it hadn't been safe.

He'd died, turned, on the north end of town.

Not that their sleepy neighborhood on the south side had been all that safe, either, in retrospect.

"What am I looking at?" he demanded, as much to find out as to distract himself from the sick lurch in the pit of his stomach.

Hibari gestured, the sweep of his hand carving off a swathe of the city—north and northwest, right down to the broad highway running east to west that cut Namimori in half. "That is Byakuran's territory there." He gesture again, at the southeastern corner of the city. "And that is Sawada's. You may hunt Byakuran's people all you like."

"Not Sawada's?" Takeshi asked, looking at the forested land. That was where he and Gokudera and Ryouhei had baited vampires. It seemed like a long time ago, now. Like something that had happened to someone else.

"Sawada controls his people," Hibari said. "They behave in a seemly fashion, and it's not needful for us to hunt them. Many of them will share, if asked." He paused, as if waiting for Takeshi to ask about that, but Takeshi didn't. After a moment Hibari gestured at the city spread out below them again. "Let us hunt."

He plunged into a dive. Takeshi followed him, feeling the sting of the wind against his face, and almost laughed at the feeling, better than any theme-park ride, before he recalled himself.

His sense of Hibari's presence dwindled to almost nothing as they dropped to a roof and Hibari cloaked himself in shadows. He hissed at Takeshi impatiently; only then did Takeshi recall that he needed to do the same. A bit of light from a streetlamp glinted off Hibari's fangs when he was satisfied, and then he began to move, prowling over the roofs of the warehouse district, heading for the clubs.

Takeshi followed after him more slowly, distracted by the noise of the city—the rumble of car engines and the sound of music and people talking at street level—and its scents, oil and smoke and concrete, the smell of human food and bodies. It was like he was noticing those things for the first time, noticing how different they were from the quiet sounds and smells in Hibari's garden, the chaotic jumble of the city in his ears and nostrils almost too much to bear.

Then he caught a different scent on the wind, prey, and the distractions fell away as if they had never been.

Takeshi growled low in his throat, the hunger in him turning sharper, more demanding. He turned his head, tasting the wind, all his attention focused on that enticing scent.

He barely noticed Hibari falling in with him when he got a fix on his prey's scent, focused as he was on prowling from shadow to shadow and tracking it down. The night air was cold on Takeshi's fangs, and the hunt was a good one: the prey was on its own hunt, distracted by its attempt to stalk a human through the streets. It never noticed Takeshi prowling along the rooftops after it, not until it was too late and Takeshi had dropped into the alley where it had cornered its human and seized it from behind. The burns on his hands still ached, but his claws were sharp enough to tear his prey's throat open so he could feast.

The human screamed, once, and went silent; Takeshi ignored him, growling his contentment over his prey, reveling in the hot taste of blood in his mouth as his prey struggled and then went still. He did not lift his mouth from its throat until his prey was still and drained and he was replete and nearly purring in his satisfaction.

Hibari came to him then, caught hold of his chin and held it. Takeshi tipped his chin back, listening to the contented rumble in Hibari's throat as Hibari groomed him, scouring the blood from Takeshi's chin and fangs, just as he'd done earlier after he'd—

Rational thought crashed down on Takeshi again. He went rigid in Hibari's grip; the sound of Hibari's purr cut off as he licked the last taste of blood from Takeshi's mouth. "Back again, I see," he said, his lips brushing Takeshi's with every word. "This is why you're a fledgling." He released Takeshi's chin and stepped back. "Until you can keep yourself during the hunt, we will hunt together."

Takeshi gritted his teeth and stood, leaving the remains of the vampire he'd just fed from where they lay and careful not to look at it too closely. Better to look at the man lying crumpled a little way down the alley instead. "What do we do about him?"

Hibari glanced at the man as if it was the first time he'd noticed him. "Do?"

"We can't just leave him there." Not where anything could happen to him. Where he was defenseless. This wasn't the good part of town.

The sound Hibari made then was a strange one; Takeshi didn't quite know how to catalogue it. "Can't we?"

Nevertheless he stooped over the man; the sound of the brisk slap he delivered was sharp in the cool air. Takeshi winced as the man groaned. "Wake up," Hibari said and slapped him again.

The sound the man made as he did was tiny and terrified; Takeshi could smell the acrid scent of his terror as he shrank away from Hibari. "Please," he whispered, voice thready, "please, I have a family—"

Hibari made an impatient sound as he stood straighter again. "I don't feed on humans. Your blood is insipid." He flicked his fingers at the man. "Get up. Go home. Be grateful that you are not dead." Then he seemed to dismiss the man from his thoughts altogether as he turned to Takeshi. "Now I will hunt. Come, it is time you learned to be less untidy in your meals."

All Takeshi could do was give the ashen-faced man one last glance before following his sire.

He slunk along after Hibari, who barely seemed to acknowledge his presence, and wondered how necessary this was. What did it matter if his kills were tidy or not? Dead was dead, no matter how it happened.

But Hibari seemed to care. Not that Takeshi could ask him anything about it while he was hunting; Hibari was entirely focused on that as they prowled through the dark. Takeshi didn't entirely understand what it was Hibari was looking for. Though he caught the scent of prey on the wind several times, Hibari let them pass by without pursuing them. The moon had risen to its highest point above them and begun to descend again before Hibari's slinking prowl turned more purposeful. It stopped and started as he crept from shadow to shadow.

The scent they followed was different from some of the others Takeshi had caught; this prey smelled older, though he couldn't have explained how he knew that. He just did, like he could tell that this prey was stronger than his own had been.

And smarter, too—smart enough to be wary, to move cautiously through the streets as Hibari tracked it, to lay down false trails and double back and move through the sky, trying to throw them off. Not that Hibari seemed to be particularly deterred by any of these tricks; he followed the trail with unerring accuracy, apparently fixated on it, as the night grew older around them.

Takeshi wasn't sure, but he suspected that Hibari would have been purring had he not needed his stealth for the hunt. That didn't make any sense. Neither did the way Hibari stalked his prey past several perfectly good places to make the kill, narrow alleys where it would have been simple to corner it and feed.

In fact, when Hibari finally brought his prey to bay, it was in an open plaza, a little space tucked in an office park that was probably filled with grass and flowers during the warmer months. It was cold and dark as the moon sank on the horizon; the prey whirled around as Hibari stepped away from the shadows that had concealed him and let his presence unfurl. It snarled at Hibari; Takeshi growled in response to that challenge, swaying forward a step until Hibari hissed a few words at him, telling him to stay where he was.

He wanted to spring forward, was the thing, wanted to close with this new prey whose scent was so beguiling in spite of the fact that he'd already fed once. Takeshi whined a little, low in his throat, as Hibari slunk forward. He and his prey circled each other, both growling, and Hibari ignored the sounds Takeshi made, all his attention focused on his prey.

The prey feinted, as if to flee, before rounding on Hibari, claws outstretched and fangs bared. Hibari's fangs glinted as he stepped out of the way of that charge; as his prey spun past him, he reached out and casually sliced a gash in its arm.

The air was still, but the scent of the prey's blood was strong, even after its regeneration sealed the gash. Takeshi growled and took half a step forward, focused on that delicious scent. Hibari growled at him, low and warning, stopping him. Takeshi whined at him, wanting, until Hibari uttered another of those growls and whirled on his prey again, striking him again. The second blow closed almost as quickly as the first had, but that still left the scent of blood on the air and on the prey's skin and on the claws Hibari raised to his lips and licked delicately.

He said something to the prey, something that Takeshi couldn't quite process with the odor of blood hanging in the air. It wasn't a growl or a snarl or a purr, though it sort of sounded like a purr. Takeshi strained after the meaning of it, trying to draw some sense out of those words, but they eluded him. He whined his frustration as the prey snarled some defiance at Hibari and lunged at him again.

Another confusing thing was how much stronger than his prey Hibari was. Takeshi could see that and thought the prey knew it, too, and couldn't see why Hibari didn't just take it, which should have been easy to do. Instead Hibari struck it again, and again, fangs glinting as the prey tried to fight back, until the prey launched itself at him, its snarl full of fury and desperation, and Hibari knocked it out of the air and dragged it down to the earth. Even then the prey struggled, despite the way Hibari pinned it and pulled its head back. Takeshi waited, growling softly, hungrily, for Hibari to slice its throat open, but Hibari didn't. He held the prey still and bent his head to fasten his mouth on the prey's throat.

Under him, the prey made a sound that wasn't a growl or a snarl. It arched under Hibari, claws flexing spasmodically as Hibari fed.

Takeshi whined, not quite understanding this strange new behavior, and padded closer, hoping that perhaps Hibari would share the kill.

Hibari raised his head and growled something, no, with the prey's blood slick on his fangs and chin. Beneath him, the prey made that sound again.

Takeshi whined again, desperate to understand, but the scent of the prey's blood in the air made that impossible. Hibari growled another string of words at him, waited a moment, and then bent his head again to continue feeding. The flailing of his prey's hands had grown weaker, the sounds it made softer, before Hibari finally raised his head again, still holding the prey down casually.

Was he finished? Would he share what was left? Takeshi made a hopeful sound, but Hibari showed his fangs like he was displeased with something, growling more words at him. Takeshi stared at him, not comprehending any of them. At last Hibari growled again, wordless exasperation in it, and stood, leaving the prey thrashing weakly on the ground. He gestured at the sky.

Takeshi didn't understand and waited for something to come clear—Hibari gestured again, pushed himself into the air—they were leaving? Without finishing the prey? Even though there was still plenty of time before the sun would rise? He whined again, frustrated and baffled by this strange behavior, and Hibari snarled something angry at him then. He swooped down, faster than Takeshi could process, and seized Takeshi, shaking him hard before dragging him into the air.

The last glimpse Takeshi had of the prey was of it climbing to its feet, almost drunkenly, before they were away and the speed of their flight tore the scent of blood away from him.

His thinking began to clear at that. "What?" he said dazedly, still not understanding that hunt at all. "What was… I don't understand."

Hibari didn't reply; he kept a firm grip on Takeshi as they arrowed southeast and said nothing until they had alighted in his garden. Only then did he release Takeshi. When he did, the scent of the blood still on his claws and chin caught up with them, sweeping Takeshi's words and confusion away. He moved on instinct, pressing against Hibari, wanting those traces of blood more than anything. Hibari caught him, but didn't stop him. Takeshi couldn't help attacking Hibari's chin and fangs and mouth, greedy for the blood lingering there. It was far richer than the blood from his own meal, layered and nuanced, and even those meager tastes of it made Takeshi purr. There was blood on Hibari's claws, too; Hibari permitted him to preen them till the last vestiges of the prey's blood was gone and the scent of their mutual hunger was twined around them.

Hibari's purr wound through Takeshi's purr; that was the first thing he recognized as his thoughts began to filter back into his head. Hibari was purring too, had let Takeshi press against him and fit himself against Hibari's body so that they could rub against each other. That realization flashed through Takeshi; he drew back, shocked, saying something that would have had Tousan washing his mouth out with soap. He scrambled back, away from Hibari, who had gone still. "What—" he choked out, but that was all he could manage.

Hibari's expression was blank and still. Finally he said, "There is pleasure in sharing blood," and that was all.

The horror of that mounted up slowly as Takeshi pieced together the meaning in that. "No," he said, "no, no—"

"It is an instinctive response," Hibari said, each word chill and ruthless. "Instincts can be controlled. Do you understand?"

That sliced through the rising tide of Takeshi's panic. Instinct. It was instinct. Only instinct. He managed a shaky nod, then.

Hibari's eyes were dispassionate, looking him over. He glanced to the east, where the night was fading to grey, and said, "Go inside and clean yourself up."

Takeshi turned and fled, grateful for that reprieve, and spent a long time immersed in steaming water, trying to scrub himself clean again.

end

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Comments

[branchandroot]

In which Hibari is actually quite generous in his own way. *rueful* Oh, the poor messed up boys.

[lysapadin]

Hibari does his best! ...when he remembers to.

*pets them* They're going to earn that happy ending, by gar.

[kyonko]

scrubbing off the gay, amirite

[lysapadin]

*snerks* Pretty much. Oh, poor Yamakins.

[theodosia21]

Oh, poor Yamamoto. This won't be easy for him. :(

[lysapadin]

Hah. No. No, it won't. *pets him* I'm so mean.

[chinpirako.livejournal.com]

Great! I'm really interested to see where this will go, and I can't believe how hot these two are together, even if they don't do anything too smutty....

[lysapadin]

*grins* Thanks! I'm having a good time figuring out what comes next myself.

And half the joy is in the build-up, heh.

[(Anonymous)]

Wonderful again, and also really hot. Poor Yamamoto ;_; this is rough for him.

[lysapadin]

Yeaaaaaah, Yamakins is having a really tough time these days. Poor baby, I'm awful mean to him sometimes.

[tiny_turtle]

Vampire angst is extra tasty. That's a scientific fact, I'm pretty sure.

[lysapadin]

It must be! I don't know how else to explain how so much vampire fic goes all angsty darkside on us, really. (And man, I even kind of dislike angsty vampires! *shakes her fist at Yamamoto*)