+The Writer-

“It was fine.”

Yoko had given him a dubious look but in the end had said nothing, ultimately willing to give him the benefit of the doubt after he had proven himself against the final forces binding the otherworldly castle to this mortal plane.

“Everything just needs a little getting used to is all.”

Hammer had simply nodded at the excuse, the ex-soldier packing up his various trinkets and weapons of dubious origin before clearing out of the space without so much as a by-your-leave; taking with him his newfound earnings as he set off to whatever strange new land that his wanderings may perhaps take.

“Don't worry.”

Julius had merely shaken his head, the rough pat that the other's callused hand had given him was almost enough to knock him off his feet. It made him briefly wonder how strong the man was truly when he wasn’t holding himself back. (He didn’t need to ask that because some deep-set part of him already knew.)

“I'm okay. Honest.”

Mina didn't say it (she didn't have to) but from the look in her eyes he knew that she knew that he was completely full of shit. But much like Yoko, she bit her tongue because at the end of the day she trusted him to come back home to her (and he loved her all the more for it.)

“Everything's just kind of...I don't even know man. I-I think I just need to...to have a dose of some normalcy, y'know? Get my head on straight and back into the swing of it, I guess?”

Sharp eyes watched him with that self-same inscrutable expression before slowly the agent had nodded and had whisked them all away from the horrors that wretched eclipse contained within.

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The trip to the admittedly well-maintained –but assuredly not on the level in any official capacity— clinic was blessedly quiet and after suffering through a bit of poking and prodding to reassure the doctors that he hadn’t dragged back any strange esoteric diseases from one of the many rampant undead that had plagued the pocket dimension he had been discharged with a clean bill of health. Released back into wilds of his cramped school dormitory as if he hadn't been sent through an utterly lifechanging and somewhat mildly existential crisis-causing affair not even a week prior without so much as a second glance.

And the very first thing he did after making it through the door and divesting himself of his socks was to collapse face first into the comforting embrace of his school-provided bed. As he clung to the soft depths of his duvet he took in a long deep breath and was instantly met with the comforting scent of citrus and white floral jasmine with just a hint of woody amber; a cheap off-brand detergent that Mina had been so kind to introduce him to after that one time she found him in her parent’s guest bathroom with a bar of soap frantically trying to scrub the stains off his newly procured (and decidedly expensive) vintage bellbottoms at three in the morning.

Tired hands groped along the length of his bog-standard sweatpants (something that the clinic had been so kind to provide him as they were sadly unable to save pretty much any piece of his once stylish fit, yet more unfortunate casualties lost to the depravity of the residents of the demon castle) until they reached his pocket. From there he tugged out his (also equally as new) cellphone that the others had managed to acquire from its depths and tapped the side key three times as he had been instructed.

It refused to turn on.

Grey eyes squinted back at him from his reflection in the dark screen and he made a mental note to charge the damned thing so that when it finally powered on he could gut the stupid device’s spyware–

(because there was no way that he’d be able to delude himself into thinking that a government-provided phone wouldn’t have any number of sketchy monitoring shit practically baked into it, particularly considering the fact it was given to someone that they still considered a threat.

He could still feel the medical technician’s stares and the not-so-hushed whispers whenever they thought he wasn’t paying attention. He could sense the presence of other agents in the halls, undoubtedly primed with any number of weapons both spiritual and mundane, ready to...take care of him should he dare succumb to his ‘dark urges’.

How the hell had he never noticed the massive target pinned to his back?)

—and then plug back in Mina and everyone else’s phone numbers, alongside the backups of all his old emulators and photo files, then he’d be set. At least until he could manage to get his hands something a bit more of a private and decidedly personalized.

‘Fucking monsters and their stupidly useful souls vying for retail space in the back of my head all because they want prove their worth to their long-dead master.’

‘Fucking reincarnation and weaponized past-life kin drama.’

‘Fucking eclipse.’

“Do I have to start worrying about cults now too?” He muttered under his breath. “Damn, a guy can’t have jack shit in Hakuba.”

With a grunt of effort, he rolled himself over onto his back, allowing the device to tumble from his hand to the bedsheets below as he stared blearily up at the pale ceiling.

Fuck, he missed Mina.

She always knew how to calm him down when shit stopped making sense and he was about to yeet whatever was causing him his newest headache out the nearest window. However, unlike himself she didn’t live in the campus dorms, instead opting to make the daily commute to school from her parent’s house up on top of the hill. Which even he had to admit while being kind of a pain in the ass, it was, if nothing else, a pretty good work out and something that probably saved their asses more than once during their little misadventure.

She was probably with them right now, doing that whole teary-eyed reunion type shit and he’d be an utter asshole to keep her from it, especially after having to go through all that.

Well, if it were any consolation, at least they could see each other in the halls after morning assembly next day and maybe snag an early lunch while they were at it? She still liked those flower-shaped cinnamon breads from the canteen, right?

Soma sighed, something about the encroaching dark painting the mundane room in an array of muted shades soothed a fundamental ache deep within his battered soul.

‘I just hope there won’t be any tests or exams on the shit that we missed when we took our little unintentional school break. Fuck, wait. I forgot we still had homework.’

At this thought the teen groaned, audibly this time.

((However, unbeknownst to the teen he soon would be finding yet a whole entirely new reason to curse out that moon-lit space and the inevitable chaos that his past self’s existence had decidedly wrought within.))

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Yeah, it was official.

Coming back to school had been a mistake.

Not only had the sound of his new alarm startled him so badly that he had fallen out of bed in a flailing mess, in his half-awake state somehow his mind had determined the cause of his suffering to be a group of murderous bloodied skeletons and in the process of trying to swat them off, he had rolled onto some of his textbooks that had been left out the night prior in a mad rush to finish the assigned work.

Then, while getting dressed, he had been unable to find his school tie and in the process of trying to hunt it down, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a shadowy figure clad in shades of deep red, black and white.

With a not-insignificant spike of utter panic and a touch more force than necessary, a pale fist smashed into the bathroom light and almost immediately he wanted to wince at his stupidity. It was just his bathroom mirror. And the shadowy figure? None other than himself clad in their school’s unfortunately designed uniform.

So there he stood: half-dressed with an aching fist, broken lightswitch that he now had to replace, and textbooks scattered across the floor, all as he was about to be late on his first day back to class.

Plus he had missed breakfast.

So everything was going great. And it seemed that the day was only going to get better from there.

It had started small, with minuscule motions that teased at the edges of his consciousness.

A half-remembered laugh that had long fingers twitching at his side. The way someone would lean in closely, enraptured as they listened to their friends sputter out a joke that had them responding in such a way that had the teen doing a double take. ‘It’s just my imagination.’ He clung to the thought like a lifeline, grey-eyed gaze trained dead-ahead as he swiftly made his way down the long corridor.

‘Too little sleep of because of an impromptu craming session mixed with the aftermath of that accursed castle in the night. That sort of thing would affect anyone.’ He tried not to tense as a raised voice from one of the passing classrooms briefly caught his passing attention. ‘Discovering that they were a genocidal vampire hellbent on getting rid of humanity in a past life is something that would probably give most normal people some severe form of PTSD so who could blame him if he was a bit…jumpy.’ He would deal with it. Push past the centuries of feelings alongside both their literal and metaphorical ghosts, ignore the fragmented memories of a half-life not quite lived, be cursed to forever resist that siren’s call of power lest he meet his end in the form of a federal agent’s silver bullet and hopefully reclaim some smidgen of his life pre-vampiric eclipse. But it seemed to be a damn near impossible task when that god-forsaken eclipse was the only thing that anyone wanted to talk about; and if not that then perhaps the particulars of his and Miss Hakuba’s extended absence. (He blamed the castle alongside that asshat Graham, as well as the forces of Chaos making things just a bit shittier in general.

And maybe the Belmonts, if he was feeling a bit charitable.

From what he had seen it was usually the safe bet when things tended to go south for him to just collectively blame them as a rule.

Julius probably wouldn't be too mad about him cursing his entire bloodline, right?

Well, actually maybe he should keep that last bit to himself...)

No matter where he turned, it seemed like he couldn't escape it.

Why did his mother have to get the bright idea to send him to a religious private school of all things? Good education and extensive facilities be damned; their family wasn't even catholic.

He’d already had to come up with some half-hearted excuse to ditch the morning assembly (which to be fair wasn't that far off from he usually tried to do for some reason or another) because he didn’t think telling the teachers that–

“I’m sorry, but the moment I set foot through the chapel’s door my skin starts to crawl in the exact same way that it does whenever I manage to trigger my allium allergy. But don’t worry! This perfectly normal and reasonably explained phenomena is not a concerning sign of supernatural possession signaling that fundamental things have been irrevocably changed within my very being, nor is it a reflection of my current mental state!”

—would go over well at all.

The teen let out a sigh, thankful for the momentary lack of underclassmen that liked to frequent the open atrium lounge as he subtly tried to stealth his way through the open area and over to greater courtyard’s entrance. An action of which when confronted with his rather notable height and remarkably distinct features was probably an exercise in futility at this point, but a guy could still dream.

If he could just make it until the midday bell dismissed them for lunch then perhaps he could finally meet up with Mina –decidedly ignoring the fact that the second she heard about what happened with morning assembly she would proceed to express her worry over his general wellbeing by getting on him for not shooting off a text and coming to find her so that they could make up a reasonable excuse as opposed to ditching most of his morning classes— and everything would be golden.

‘Ugh, why does she have to be in a different class. This sucks.’ Sharp ears pricked up at the sound of distant chatter as it slowly made its approach. ‘Shit, people–!’ After a brief but frantic search, he quickly ducked behind one of the school’s oversized planters (each filled to the brim with some notable specimen of white Calibrachoa that the administration insisted was for ‘maintaining the health and mental wellbeing of the student populace’ but everyone and their mother knew was just another way for them to show off their expensive decorating tastes) and prayed that they wouldn’t notice him.

‘Alright, Soma just play it cool and you’ll get through this.’

“Saami–”

‘Hold up. That voice…’

“No Justine, this is bullshit!”

‘It couldn’t be, could it?’

Risking a quick peek over the foliage, grey eyes widened before he immediately ducked back down with a low swear.

‘Why, of all people, did it have to be her?’ Honestly, a teacher would have been preferable at this point, at least they couldn’t go to Uncle Soleil to rat him out… ‘Wait, her friend looks pissed. What are they talking about?’ Curiosity peaked –as well as the need to snoop for potential blackmail material— he slowly poked his head around the container and listened.

The bleached blond stomped her foot, eyes dark as she glared up at her companion. “I haven't been able to sleep right in a damn near week because of this shit and I'm telling you that if I have to go another moment with these horrid synthetic fabrics touching my skin I am going to find the person who invented them, snatch their accursed wraith from whatever woeful cranny they decided to ensconce themselves within, and drive my rosary through their skull." Manicured nails picked at the lapel of her blazer with an air of disgust.

“While I can understand the sentiment, and personally do see the merit in divesting oneself of these godawful skirts–” His cousin started, staring down at the other with a bemused squint as she seemed, for all the world, as if she was struggling not to laugh. “–don’t you think that’s a bit…much?”

Ignoring that, the shorter teen grumbled. "Maybe if I swapped it with some leather and furs...? It’d at least be more comfortable at any rate.”

“...You know what? That could work.”

“Y'think?”

“Until the teachers come in and snipe you for dress code.”

“Bah, I've fought the Grim Reaper himself and won. Do you think a few blowhards on their high-horse are gonna scare me? Why I–”

“Huh, wait… Soma???”

Urk, busted.

Drawing away from the planter that he had so cleverly decided to conceal himself behind it seemed as though his earlier prediction had been prophetic. Cursed was his fate as a ridiculously tall albino, alas the life of stealth was not for him. Playing it off, he brushed the dust from his uniform and sheepishly met the other girl’s eyes. “H-Hey Justine, ‘sup…?”

“W-What are you doing here?”

“…Uh.” He glanced back to the planter and absently plucked one of the pale petals, rolling it between his fingers before holding it up to show. “J-Just inspecting these flowers? They really suit the lounge’s décor, bring the whole space together y’know?”

Justine looked from the flower then back to him and then after an agonizingly long second nodded. “Right...” She said at length, as if whatever bullshit he spouted made a lick of sense.

Saami’s gaze flitted from one teen to the next as she watched the byplay in all its awkward glory. Rich blue eyes leveled at his chest with a sort of hard suspicion that niggled something deep in the back of his mind with enough veracity that it set alarm bells ringing. Suddenly, as if something just occurred to her, she jerked a taloned finger in his general direction.

“Oi, shouldn't you be in class right now?"

Crap.

“W-Well. I mean–”

Quick, deflect their attention away from yourself. You’re just a normal, if slightly socially awkward teenager with no ties to the supernatural whatsoever. They already think you’re kind of a dumbass, play into it!

“What about you, huh? Shouldn’t I be asking the same ‘Little Miss Bad Dye Job’?” He threw out the accusation like it was a giant spider stashed behind the pews of a deconsecrated chapel and prayed that the girl would take the bait.

Saami’s eyes narrowed. “We’re class reps who just got out of a student council meeting. Not to say the same about such a suspicious individual as yourself.” There was a certain hardness to the girl’s countenance, her head tilted slightly as she stared up at him with the light of challenge in her eyes; daring him to say otherwise–

(A burning fire, hard eyes same shade of that ethereal blue staring up at him through a veil of deep-set anger. The face of a man bearing the full brunt of his curse yet who still chose to remain, simply because he was too fucking angry to die–)

“What the hell are you gawking at?”

“I–”

“…You’re ditching morning assembly again aren’t you.” Soma flinched.

It wasn’t a question.

“I can explain–”

“Dad and Aunt Charlie already got on you for pulling this kind of shit!”

“Because we’re not even devout catholics! I don’t see the need to pray to a deity that I’m pretty sure hates us.” Or at least him in particular, which he had to admit was kind of a fair sentiment, all things considered. They were kind of losing the plot here, time to get back on track. “And well, it’s just…I hadn’t really been feeling good lately. The scent of the votives were kind of giving me a headache so I thought I’d walk myself down to the nurse’s office and camp there until it went away and–”

He glanced up, trailing off as he took in how the girl’s sharp bluish-grey eyes were now trained upon him. There was a certain odd cadence to her expression that he couldn’t quite name before it smoothed out into a blank spread.

“I really should tell her.”

“No, wait!” A single pale brow slowly crept to her hairline; he rushed to explain. “If you call Mom she’s just gonna wind up driving all the way up here and then it’ll be a big thing because you know how she’s like and then there’s gonna be even more drama because you know she has that weird other thing going on between her and the Language Department Head. I don't want to watch Mr. Morris try to put his moves on my mom.” He hissed with a trace of desperation, missing the way both teens seemed to stiffen.

Oh, god. Having to witness that torture wasn’t something that he would wish on his worst enemy. He might as well have to give into his Dark Lord urges if only to get Julius to spare him the misery of having to watch his mother and Mr. Morris flit around each other in their weird little ‘frenemies-to-lovers’ dance. If the guy were to suddenly burst into his class one day with the announcement that he was going to be his new stepdad or something of that nature, Soma very well might have to kill him. His waning sanity wouldn’t be able to take it otherwise. Yeah, it’d suck to lose a fiancé like that but she’d get over it, probably.

“Well, if you don’t I will.” Broken from his mildly murderous spiral, he found that the other had folded her arms expectantly. “Y’know she’s been blowing up everyone’s phones for the past few days, trying to get into contact with you and Mina because you never called her back to touch base after you told her y’all were going to Mina’s place to watch the Eclipse.”

“She did?”

Cringing under both Saami's rapidly shifting expression as well as Justine’s faintly incredulous stare, he seemed to realize that their tolerance for his bullshit was rapidly approaching its end. “I mean of course she did. Shit. My bad.” Okay, that was his cue to wrap this up and make his escape.

“Soma…”

“It’s okay, just…don’t worry about it!” As he spoke, he slowly began to edge backwards. The white-haired teen kept the two at an arm’s length, as if they were a particularly volatile pair of serpents, ready to strike the instant that they sensed weakness. “I will definitely get back to her. Later.”

(Maybe when I finally fix that piece of shit burner phone they gave me...)

And while he hadn’t intended for the others to hear that last part, nonetheless Justine appeared suitably alarmed.

“Soma why the fuck do you have a burner phone? Why is it broken–”

“Oh, would you look at the time. I have to be, not here. See ya!” He threw back in a jumbled rush as he quickly turned on his heel and skittered out of the open atrium. The teen bolted down an auxiliary corridor in an effort to put some distance between himself and the memories brought forth by the pair.

“Justine.”

“Yes, Saami?”

Two sets of sharp blue eyes met in a singular sidelong look as the two girls carried on with their silent conversation. A dialogue of which could ultimately be summarized within the span of a single phrase–

‘Report it to the chat?’

‘Report it to the chat.’

—as both teens proceeded to pull out their devices and start texting.

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It had taken him at least two more periods before he finally managed to give the girls and their council minions the slip. And now, as he stared out at the world from the hidden alcove he found himself sequestered in, he finally allowed himself to take a much-needed breath.

Yeah. Okay. He actually wasn’t up for...any of this.

Maybe he should just wave the white flag while he was at it and crash back at the dorms instead?

‘Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. At least until this whole mess blows over at any rate.’ He pushed away from the window, the sunlit panes of glass leaving indents upon his skin before they too disappeared into the depths of his pockets as he slunk down the empty hall. ‘Mina would probably understand, because she was cool like that.’

She would shoot him a text and he'd respond from underneath the covers with his lights off because the brightness always gave him a headache. They'd get in a little competition over who could send the weirdest animal pics and he'd win because of his folder of old olm memes that he'd managed to scrounge up from an ancient AI infested thread back when he was nine that he finally managed to port from his spyware-free phone. Then she’d laugh which would get her caught by Mr. Morris and then she would have to do a whole written apology in English before he would let her have her phone back and–

“Oof!”

“Whoa, hey!”

“Shit sorry–”

“Soma?”

“Rihito???”

Hand pressed to his now aching nose, he took a second to blink up through watery eyes at the solid brick wall of a person that he had the misfortune to slam face first into. “What the hell dude? That hurt.”

“I am so sorry. Totally my fault for not paying attention while I walked.” In a flash, the teen’s textured blue case disappeared from sight as the device was hastily slid back into his pants pocket. “Haven't seen you at practice in a few days. You aren’t skipping on us, are you?”

Reassured that he was not currently leaking any precious vital fluid he let the limb drop to his side. “Nah. It's just been...a really weird week for me.” Soma waved a hand in an absent manner as if it would somehow elucidate his point. “Y'know? Shit's wack, Rihito.” With a slightly sardonic smirk he went on, “I'm eighty-six percent sure that God hates me.”

Which, once again was, y'know. Fair.

“Oh, mood.” The other nodded sagely; a dark flicker crossing his face as if he genuinely did know what he was getting at before it cleared and he jovially clasped the other on his shoulder, "Well it's good to see you still with us at any rate!" (He could feel his body give way from underneath him as the damage had finally begun to take its toll, paying no heed to the heat of the fire that lapped at his back as he found that even brought down to his knees such as he was that his impressive stature easily allowed him to meet the youth's gaze.

“Once again, the blood of Belmont has defeated me...Perhaps this, too, is part of my fate.”

And what a twisted fate it was, to be hounded by those of that ill-fated lineage. Doomed to repeat this endless cycle brought about by hands wrought with grief over those who had long since left this world; forever haunted by his legacy as they sought to fend off the creatures of night.

Weren’t they tired of this ceaseless farce?

The child’s hold tightened upon his whip, perhaps bolstered by the comforting presence that it provided him. Not unlike like a babe would cling to their mother's side until they came of age to divest themselves of such habits.

“Death to you! The world is not yours to exist in!” The child’s way with the language was stilted and broken, flavoured with a spice not of the land in which they currently staked their claim. Did this boy even know the tales of his ancestor’s homeland, passed down along the centuries through the mouths of those that came before him? Or that of the very whip clutched within his grasp and how it stood vigil for his many bloodkin? What of the origin of the very magic that sang through his veins, or were they yet like everything else lost to the strange aeons?

…Well, he was nothing if not indulgent concerning his vast repertoire of knowledge, a fleeting remnant of hope that those to which the information was bequeathed were not going to be absolute fools with it, at any rate.

“It is not by my own power that I am resurrected. It is a greed of humanity which calls me back. And thus, by might, I rule. Might becomes the one and only justice in this world!”

An endless cycle, one that had seen many a soul fall victim to the over the centuries. Those that reach power invariably crave more of it and thus one’s noble intention are turned; twisted by their covetous natures. They present these corrupted ideals as if with the sanctity of gold, viewing them through the lens of ‘justice’ and ‘how things should be’ and if given enough time –enough of a willing audience— this tainted rhetoric becomes the rule of law.

Deny it all he might, but for all his ordained blood the evidence was immutable.

Scores of beings rent limb from limb as the boy forged a bloody path through his home, of creatures denied their rightful place in the light and thus forced to seek refuge under his wing, all laid to waste for his personal sense of morality; slain the name of Belmont.

“Of all the self-serving claptrap! The same basic faith drives all people to seek, to come together, to move forward. That surely can't be an evil thing!” Despite it all, he could feel a trace of amusement towards the boy’s outburst. Had the blond passed down his naïveté as well as those accursed blue eyes; nevertheless, he forged on.

“And yet, here I am. Do you not have any desires?” Just this simple query was seemingly enough to throw the poor boy.

To give cause for him to falter.

“W-Well...”

A tilt of the head, impassive yet watchful. He remained still, the flame’s slow march now flickering at the underside of his fine tunic. It pulled at his body with searing grasp that he had long since forgotten the feel of. “It is by your desires that you humans prosper. And it is your faith which has ruled you. Considering that, can you really call me evil?”

“But people cannot be ruled by power alone! The sacred, the honorable, the loved...Those things can rule humanity. Something evil will eventually fall to ruin!” It was said with an almost sort of desperation, as if he was more determined to convince himself of this, rather than the centuries old vampire before him.

 …Hoh? Perhaps the boy was a touch more acquainted with the darkness contained within himself than he may care to admit?

The ancient vampire felt a curious curl of intrigue tinged with a certain fleeting wistfulness at the prospect as his body began its familiar transmutation from solid flesh to soot and ash. In the distance he could sense the rumble of his home as the souls contained within strayed from their bonds, demanding to be freed of their master's crushing embrace. It looked like his time was coming to an end.

“I see...Perhaps you're right.” He laughed, startling the youth with the sharp noise. “We shall meet again, blood of Belmont!” Maybe in another time and place, beyond this wretched world if fate should ever be so kind.

But for beings such as myself it rarely if so ever is...)

“-ma! Shit, they weren’t kidding. Soma.”

He blinked, trying to shake off the memory and subtle ache of burning flesh that was never there. Jewel-toned eyes stared at him with an undisguised hint of alarm. The other’s form stood tense, hand subtly shifted to his pocket as if to retrieve something contained within. His cellphone, perhaps?

(Or maybe a vial of holy water?)

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Hey you don’t look too good. I mean you just kind of…”

“Kind of what.”

The teen made a loose hand motion as if that were somehow supposed to get his point across, “Checked out there dude, everything alright?”

Not in the slightest.

“Yeah, fuck. I’m sorry. Just…tired. Might repeating what you said?”

The other hummed, as if it wasn’t clear enough already that he didn’t quite believe his story. Honestly, if the teen’s worry was a touch less genuine the whole affair would have made Soma want to scoff. He didn’t seem that off, did he?

(Right?)

“…Right. Well, I was saying do you wanna come with me or–” Once again he leveled the white-haired teen with a skeptical eye, “—if you’re not comfortable with that I could go get someone else and we could go together as a group and have them vouch for you?”

Huh…?

“Wait, roll back a bit. ‘Go with you’? What for?”

Rihito seemed to start, as this was apparently the wrong thing to say. “You haven't checked the group texts in Moonlyte? Any of them?” Was it just a trick of the light or did the other's stare seem to sharpen? Weird. However, the thought was immediately pushed back in favor of recalling the ill-fated end of his previous cellular device and he fought back a wince. Did his mom manage to get her hands on them too? Just what the hell did she post? No, now was not the time to contemplate about his possibly decimated social life. Now was the time to find out if he needed to do damage control.

“Nah, my cell got busted a few days ago. Wasn't able to replace it until yesterday but I still gotta set everything back up. Why, did something happen?”

“Ah. That sucks.” A flicker of genuine commiseration before he shook his head. “Yeah, well…kinda? There was this whole huge thing and you can probably scroll through the backlogs on your own time but the most recent message was an emergency club meeting that’s supposed to be held in one of the upper training rooms. Old Man Denshirou is even letting us use it through lunch and free period just so long as we don't trash the place.”

The white-haired teen stared. “The hell? How'd Captain Miyama get the teachers to go along with something like that? No. Wait. Why? I would understand if it were something like life threatening. But...really???”

At this Rihito seemed to grow nervous and was it his imagination or was that also a hint of guilt layered somewhere in the whole cluster? From what he knew, the brunet was the earnest type –not much one to lie and prance about falsities— so whatever could the real issue be? Was it related to that other thing that he was talking about, the mysterious word that appeared to be on everyone’s lips? Hm, this was getting to be a bit too suspicious.

Just what the actual hell had happened while they were in that damned Eclipse?

“Hm, not entirely sure. When I asked, he said ‘there's been kind of a dark chill in the air’ and that ‘he's kind of worried how it'll affect our performance and we should be ready’ or something. Honestly, he was being real cagey about it. Though I can't really blame him. Things really have been kinda weird for the past few days...”

Well, that sounded like a valid enough reason. But still he couldn't shake the feeling something was distinctly off...

“I-I don't really, hey what gives–!” Without warning, the other seemed to latch onto him with a resolute grip.

“Soma. Listen, I’m gonna go ahead and level with you here. If I don't get you and the others to actually show up to whatever weird bullshit that he’s cooked up this time then the moment I get back to the dorms Reon's gonna be on my ass.” With a growing light of manic desperation that sent shivers down Soma’s spine, he spiraled on. “Then Mary'll obviously use it as a chance to snitch on me to our parents and then I'll get my console subscription privileges revoked and if they get snagged I'm never going to be able to finish my completionist run of Bizarre Cross Cour Fighter before I have to sit exams. Please.” Ah, that right. His little sister attended the school's junior campus down the way and could often be seen lurking around the dorms because that's where he and their cousin had both elected to stay. Right. For a fleeting moment he wondered if he could just tell Rihito to fuck off and continue on with his initial plans. However, that was before he remembered that the other literally lived three doors down and would –because he is an insufferable freeloading asshole with no respect for one’s personal space or property— decide to follow him to his dorm and not leave until the other came to collect him, where the albino teen would subsequently be dragged along by the elder Miyama anyway.

(It wouldn’t have been the first time at any rate.)

He claimed it was because ‘his dorm was nicer’ and ‘that he didn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone because Soma was lucky enough to not have to share’. Yeah, sure. And the fact that he just wanted to monopolize his holographic projector to stream his gaming sessions had nothing to do with it.)

“...Uuugh. Fine. Fine.” Mentally kissing his plans of hiding in his room until things made sense again goodbye, he finally managed to pry the other’s iron-clad grip free. “Just get off me, jeez.”

“Man, you don’t know how much this means–”

“Ah!” He skittered away, meeting the other’s disgustingly relieved expression with a squinted glare. “But you owe me Miyama.” Pointing a single finger at the other's well-built chest, he went on. “I want four rounds 1-v-1, no items, and I call dibs on Dio.”

“Okay, sure. But only if I get to be Cour 3 Kujo.”

“Deal.”

A quick trip to the school's athletic wing to deal the kendo team captain? Sounded easy enough. How bad could this ‘emergency meeting’ turn out be?

...And why did he get the strangest feeling that he just fucked himself over?

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He stood a stark shadow, the shinai leveled at the other's throat. His blood sung in his veins as ingrained instincts whispered for him to drive it forward, to finish the job, let the other's blood drip forth so that he may claim victory over him body and soul—

He forced the broken blade down, bare fingers biting into the cracked wood as he breathed.

God, what the hell was that?! This wasn't a life-or-death battle; it was just a stupid fucking sparing match for pete's sake! But something about the rhythm, the give and take of an exchange that was so achingly familiar...

(Blades made to cross one another, time and time again as scores of young recruits cheered their approval. Gleeful in the show that their prized tactician could provide against his longtime comrade. His dearest, most trusted friend–)

The sound of the other pulling himself up off the mat was a stark contrast against the dead silence that blanketed the room. The other's heavy breaths as he fumbled a bit with the headgear before finally managing to tug it off his sweaty countenance. Dark locks (once blond but now the colour of night, the same shade as a certain other's once so long long ago) sprung forth from their confines, coming forward to frame the kendo captain’s visage and clear blues contained beneath.

‘Look at what you’ve done.’

Something deep within prompted him to lift his head and reluctantly Soma met the other's gaze. What he found there was not what one might have come to expect from a normal teenager when faced with such a loss, but rather, that of a man aged beyond his years. A bloodless pallor touched by an achingly complex mix of ancient tragedy, wistfulness, and something devastatingly haunted.

(The dawning horror that was Recognition.)

“Reon?”

"Holy shit Captain Miyama!”

As if suddenly remembering their existence, the taller male's gaze flickered from Rihito (whose fingers were locked in a vice-like grip, visibly strained around the royal blue shell of his phone as he teetered on a knife’s edge) to the intent stare of his junior Tau (who looked for all the world seconds away from abandoning his spot by the door to leap over to the fallen teen’s side, ready and primed to do…something) and his weird bandana wearing friend, whose hands had finally stopped toying with his switchblade (not that he was anyone to point fingers or anything but why did he have a such a large knife out on campus? That thing was like twice the size of the one he managed to smuggle in, plus he was like pretty sure that specific variant was illegal to possess anyway) to gawk at the spectacle.

And then there was Suzuki, who's keen gaze watched him from under the soft blue hood of their sweatshirt with such an intensity that it made his skin crawl with that selfsame itchiness that he had felt skirting around the edges of the main chapel this morning as he dodged student and staff alike, like he was some sort of puzzle piece that they just couldn't quite seem to place.

(Oh. Wait.)

It was then that he struck with a delirious kind of certainty that gnawed at the lining of his stomach and made the hair on the back of his neck bristle.

(He knew these people.)

He took a step back, meeting Leon’s blue eyes and–

“...Mathias?”

...

Okay. Nope. Not today, Chaos. Not today.

He quickly turned on his heel and made a break for the window, diving through the open portal without a second thought. Which, okay, might've been a bit of an overreaction seeing as he didn't really have that many spare souls on him at the moment along with the fact that they were on the third floor.

...

Eh. There were bushes below he'd probably be fine.

At least it was better than the alternative at any rate. Speaking of which...

“Mathias Cronqvist you traitorous wretch!” The furious voice of his kendo captain echoed down into the little leafy alcove where Soma found himself sprawled. He looked up to the ledge where he saw the other perched, not unlike a heaven-sent angel about to take flight–

Oh. Wait. Shit–

Soma quickly and somewhat ungracefully pulled himself out of the scraggly shrubbery just in time to dodge the other's falling form as he scampered off.

“Get back here!!”

“No!”

Yeah. He was not dealing with this today.

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[A/N:] I have no less than six different WIPs, each of which total over 30k+ words in length, and the one thing that gets posted in almost a year is the fucking Castlevania Meme fic.

-Thousand Yard Stare-