*

Every year on Halloween’s night, his parents and him are kicked out of the house.

Of course Kyoko doesn’t put it like that.

She uses her silver tongue with a sweet tone and a sweeter smile, and suddenly Ryohei wants nothing more than to sleep over one of his friend’s house for Halloween, and his parents have the urge to revive some romanticism in their couple by booking a room into some luxurious hotel.

Oh, they do spend Halloween together, making the round of the neighborhood in their costumes, but then—

Then Kyoko claims the house for herself. Ryohei always wondered why.

Tonight is the night he will find out.

He jumps from the tree to the open window of his room, slips in quietly. He looks out for any sound, the house eerily quiet, but he knows Kyoko is there.

And Haru and Hana.

And I-Pin and Bianchi.

His phone rings, and he dives under his bed, his heart boxing against his rib cage.

His eyes flick wildly in every direction, Sun flames enhancing his earring, but the house is as silent as before.

Ryohei fetches his phone from his sweater’s pocket. He has a message from Octopus-Head.

Well??? Anything to report?

Ryohei just got in the room, didn’t Octopus-Head see?

He silences his phone without answering, and crawls out from under the bed. He peers into the hallway, looks both ways, and comes out of the room on quiet steps.

Ryohei lights his ring, but thinks better of it, and enhances his sight with his flames instead. He makes his way down the hallway, his phone in front of him, video recording with the flash on.

He looks down the stairs, straight into Katsu’s eyes.

He freezes.

Katsu doesn’t meow, doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. She stares into his very soul, her black eyes shining, almost glowing, and all warmth seems to be sucked out of him.

She blinks once, and her eyes are now a pool of darkness, pupil and all.

A chill runs up Ryohei’s spine. It’s silly, he’s being silly, it’s just Katsu and he was always her favorite. Right?

Right.

Right?

Katsu puffs herself bigger, but her face stays neutral, doesn’t move an inch. Her shadow moves while she doesn’t—Ryohei swears it does, he extremely has a supernatural eyesight right now after all.

Colorful lights from the ajar kitchen door shine over her body, red and yellow and green, and oh, of course it’s because of the lights.

Her shadow creeps over the first step, spreads all over it, and oh, that’s definitely not because of the lights.

Ryohei’s feet stay rooted to the spot because he’s no coward. His hands shake, but only because he wants to record from all the angles.

Katsu’s shadow speeds up along the stairs, grows clawed hands, forms a face in the middle with slit eyes and jagged teeth in a Cheshire grin.

Ryohei blinks. The shadow tears itself from the stairs, claims the whole space from floor to ceiling, the only thing visible through its dark color being Katsu’s impossible darker eyes.

His phone vibrates a second before it swallows him.

Ryohei’s legs buckle up. He presses his forehead against the floor, his arms stretched out in front of him, maybe or maybe not praying to the Cat Demon to have mercy on his soul.

When he raises his head again, Katsu is nowhere to be seen. Ryohei checks his phone, ignores the crack on his screen.

There’s a text message from Tsuna.

Suspicious lights from the kitchen window. We’re trying to get closer. Be careful.

Ryohei lies down on the floor because it’s more discreet like that, and not because he doubts his legs would be able to support him.

He crawls down the stairs that way. It’s only when he lies just beside the kitchen door he’s able to hear the people he knew all along were there.

A litany of crazed whispers, of words he can’t make out. Giggling, high-pitched and almost like screeches. Rhythmic footsteps, and irregular thud sounds, like they’re hitting something on the floor.

There’s a foul smell coming from the kitchen from whatever they’re brewing, he somehow seems to never have enough of it anyway.

He catches a glimpse of their shadow now and then, and they’re circling something? Also wearing capes and some kind of large, pointy hat?

And is that a stick they’re holding?

Ryohei shakily rises on his knees, a hand on the wall to support him. He brings up his phone again, but turns off the flash.

But first, he needs to report to Octopus-Head and the others.

Takeshi sends him a text message before he can.

Abort mission! Abort mission! They

Ryohei’s breath catches in his throat.

They what?

They what?

The kitchen’s door slams close. A strong wind rushes in the hallway, almost sends him flying back, roaring, howling.

It has Kyoko’s voice.

[Onii-chan.]

Ryohei slams his hands against his ears, and whips his head around. Kyoko’s not there.

His crushed phone bounces on the floor, and he swallows thickly, tastes the blood of his bitten tongue.

[Onii-chan, how rude of you. Girls business are girls business only, didn’t mom and dad taught you that?]

Cold fingers curl around his neck, squeezes his heart, and he blazes with Sun flames. The hallway grows dark, dark, dark, and even like that he can’t see further than the length of his arm.

Ryohei whips around to the front door, and here’s Katsu, perfectly visible, blocking the way.

[What did you see Onii-chan? Did you see something? Anything? Don’t lie to me.]

Ryohei blindly makes for the bathroom, and locks himself inside. He falls on his knees, sticks Octopus-Head’s weird necklace in between his clasped hands, and prays.

He didn’t see anything, he isn’t lying, he wouldn’t lie to her, of course not, he’s extremely sorry, he is.

If Ryohei could find his voice again he’d only extremely pray out loud to whatever god is above, to whatever U.M.A Octopus-Head thinks rules the world, to anyone able to save his soul right now.

He winces at the unbearable screeching sound, like Kyoko claws at the door.

[Onii-chan, your sweet little sister just wants to talk. Open the door.]

Ryohei jumps to his feet, weighs his whole body weight against the door. He prays harder than ever in his life.

The last thing he remembers from that night, is the door slowly creaking open anyway.

*

Ryohei wakes up in Tsuna’s front yard, at the bottom of their pile of bodies, to the blue sky above him.

He frees his arms from under them, claps his hands together, and thanks whoever it is who saw fit to let him live another day.

Girls business are girls business only.

Dully noted.

Next time Octopus-Head wants to go on a U.M.A.s hunt, he’ll just have to do without him.

*

First time writing something that’s supposed to be scary! But it was all very purposefully “Crack treated Seriously”, so it’s okay if it didn’t scare you at all lol. I hope you found it fun at the very least.

Left with only a single Kozato and only a few side dishes! The idea alone! She’d spent the last thousand years carefully cultivating her human herds until she had the Kozato: a family with blood so lovely, so hearty and tasty and good that they couldn’t be called anything but the steak amongst the low-class meat.

All her calculations down the drain! All those years of making sure the population grew just so that her personal blood banks would provide as much food as she wanted and now she was back to mere rations! She clenched her fists, long nails boring into her pale palm until it bled. Dismayed, she frowned, bringing up her hand to her mouth and quickly licking the blood up. She really couldn’t afford to lose any right now- she was stretching her supply of blood as it was. The Simon children were often pale from blood loss and though she tried to keep them healthy, it was hard when she had to be on top of her abilities to protect them. Keeping her powers up, in turn, required blood which made the whole process harder.

Grinding her fangs, she snarled into the night before her, cutting an imposing figure against the treeline, the sand beneath her feet cold as the sun had long gone down. The sea before her was a black hole, the house behind her small and well-hidden amongst the trees. 

‘’Adelheid?’’ A small voice sounded behind her. 

Adelheid shook her head to keep her violent thoughts away as she turned. It was Enma, barely ten years old, a band-aid on the side of his neck where she’d bitten earlier. Reduced to biting children, ridiculous. 

Her heart twinged at his appearance. He’d always been a bit of a lost child, drowning in his clothes even when they ought to be the right size. The murder of his family had only made it worse, created this image of frailty where previously there had been a possibility of budding strength. He had been severely traumatized by the massacre he’d only just survived. All of the kids had been. 

‘’What is it?’’ she asked, crouching down.

Enma bit his lip. 

Adelheid sighed inwardly. Enma was so skittish, so young, still so breakable. Adelheid herself couldn’t even remember being human- time made memories wear away and she’d been turned so long ago that there was nary a memory left. She couldn’t remember human weakness, only the kind of weakness a vampire knew. For a vampire, weakness was the thirst. A rather simple thing to remedy, certainly, if you had enough people to drink from. 

Vampire’s that killed may live in paradise for one, two, maybe even three years, but eventually the people would rise up and kill them. Far better was a deal, a give and take that was sustainable. A give and take like Adelheid had had with the Simon. 

Human weakness was hard. She could provide certain things easily in exchange for blood, like protection against other humans or even against wild animals and in some cases, nature. But like this, when she was only left with children… Human weakness were things like emotion. Human children needed affection. To a creature like her, not beholden to anyone except perhaps her sire who had long died… Ah, that was a strange thing. Something she didn’t know what to do about. 

They needed her though. So she did her best. 

She tried again. ‘’Why are you out of bed? I promise I won’t be mad if you tell me.’’

Enma fiddled with the edge of his night shirt. ‘’I dreamed you were gone.’’ 

Adelheid blinked. ‘’I’m right here, though. Have been for centuries. This was my island long before you were even born and I’ll remain its protector far longer than you will exist. I know-‘’ she swallows thickly. ‘’I know I’ve failed you. I know I wasn’t there in your hour of need, that I should have been more vigilant. But it’s too late for that now, the Vongola came too fast and struck so quickly and by the time I noticed all that was left was you. But I’m here now.’’ 

Enma looked up, his big eyes filled with tears and desolation. His eyes are red, like blood, and it… It hurts her, to see him like this. A child this young, this desperate. ‘’But we can’t provide enough! I’m not blind, Adelheid! You’re getting weaker by the day! Dad said- Dad said you were protecting us because of a very, very old contract and that we had to uphold it to our dying breath and even beyond! But we’re not! It’s just the six of us and we don’t know what we’re doing and the only reason we’ve survived so far is because you get us food, make sure we’re fed and clothed. I’m sorry, but please don’t leave us, Adelheid!’’

Something inside her chest twinges and before Adelheid knows what she’s doing, she puts her arms around him. It can’t be comfortable. Her skin is hard and cold as that of a corpse besides, but Enma melts into it. She can’t help but rest her head on top of his. ‘’Silly child. I’ve failed as your sentinel in the first place. This is no fault of yours. Besides, you’ll grow. You’ll grow big and strong and bigger bodies have more blood.’’ She kisses the top of his head and then lifts his chin so their eyes meet. ‘’Rest assured, Enma. Those who did this to your family will not rest easily in their beds. We’re both too weak right now. You’re too young and so are the others, and I am sorely lacking blood. But that won’t always be so.’’ 

Her eyes burn with determination as she thirsts for something other than blood for once. ‘’We will have our revenge. The day you’ll be old enough, the day we’ll have blood enough, we’ll leave this island and hunt those who hurt us down. Some day, I promise you, Enma, the Vongola will choke on their own blood and we will be the ones to make it so.’’

The image she stumbled upon when she got back from her trip is still so vivid, seared into her eyes: the corpses everywhere, the smell of dried blood, her failure to protect her herds dripping off them like the rain that could not wash away her pain nor the long-dried blood. How the children had come crawling out from their hiding places, frightened and filthy, looking like drowned rats as they ran to her, the only safety they had left.

The children she’s protecting are small. When she stands among them they barely come up to her hip and their hands cannot even crush fruit yet. They are weak but they can grow. They can be trained. They will never be as strong as she is, being human as they are, but they can be stronger still. As she has Enma in her arms, she sees the  boy’s resolve harden before her very eyes, his jaw lock, his spine straighten. And she knows. 

She knows beyond a doubt: they will have their revenge. 

Author’s note:

Adelheid definitely gives little vampire love bites to her kids too, which is why Enma wears a band-aid over his nose when he’s older. Gotta disguise his guardian’s EMBARRASSING EQUIVALENT OF A GOODBYE SMOOCH.

Enma, trying to be cool in front of Tsuna: ''She's like, my older sister. Only she's more than a thousand years older and like. bloodthirsty. What I'm saying is, my blood is really good.''

Adelheid, firmly of the opinion that nothing is more attractive than offering a potential mate good blood, which Enma is in possession of: nods encouragingly from her hiding place in the tree above them

Tsuna, who knows only that Adelheid is Scary: ...okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay

Being raised by a vampire has some effects and not all of them are ''i'm an overpowered boss as far as humans go''. Enma has no idea how to flirt, which is not different from cannon, but still worse in a different way.

“So he’s supposed to be loosely based on a kappa, but throwing a komodo dragon in there with an idol is so wrong!”

“Well at least the animal handler is on standby so Chrome-chan is safe,” Haru responded. “Same with her security team,” she added, eyeing the idol’s bodyguards lining the edges of the set.

Gokudera scoffed. “That airhead’s no use,” he grumbled. “He’s probably playing with the dogs again.”

He kept his back to the rows of grave markers that Haru gazed out over. He’d turned away from the set uncomfortably as his half-sister had thrown off her robes for the scene, Haru keeping watch to let him know when it was safe for his eyes to resume his post. “I meant that’s a sorry excuse for a kappa, even if they use CGI on it later. And those dogs are way too friendly to pass as werewolves.”

“You want them to release aggressive dogs onto set with this celebrity cast?” Haru gave him a look. “There’s a pop idol, a famous youtuber, and supermodels out there and you want to use dogs that are less friendly?”

He returned the look. “No, I’m saying that their cryptids are unrealistic! I’m a fan of the director’s work but no professional would half-ass their research like this!”

“I heard that it’s based on a dream his godson had,” Haru said, frowning slightly as she saw Tsuna chatting with Yamamoto, a leashed cat held in his arms. They shared a laugh over something they were too far away to hear. Sure enough, a bunch of dogs stuck close to his side, tails wagging.

Chrome’s bodyguard stood up from his relaxed perch on a spare tombstone just off the set and moved quickly through the fake cemetery, ducking under boom mics and low hanging branches. The sudden movement caught Haru’s attention.

“Hey!”

“What do you want? Gokudera growled as the back of Haru’s arm smacked into his side. He turned to her furiously, but saw that she was already running out into the graveyard. It only took him a moment longer to process what was happening as more thundering explosions rocked the movie set and he ran to catch up to the costume designer.

“Shit! Oi! Stay off the set, it’s dangerous, you idiot!”

___

Chrome stared up at the dark haired man that was the head of her security detail as he casually tossed aside the explosive he’d snatched in midflight as it had rocketed towards her. It blew up somewhere behind him but all it did was silhouette him for a moment, ruffling his hair and untucking the hem of his shirt. Hibari’s eyes remained locked with hers as she stared up in awe at the cold steel of his gaze that cut through the mayhem and promised murder to anything that dared to cause her harm.

All around them, fire crews were rushing to the scene to put out the minor disaster that was threatening to take over the set. Chrome pushed herself to her feet in the shallow grave.

“Cut! Cut! Cut!” Reborn’s voice boomed through the megaphone.

There was a sharp whistle and the dog actor that had accompanied her into the hole they dug was bounding away. Yamamoto whistled again. “Hey, hellhounds! Come back!”

The rest of the runaway pack was slobbering over a laughing man on the ground. She could only make out blond hair and flailing limbs before he was completely overrun with dogs.

Hibari turned to leave, but paused when Chrome called out. “Wait.”

He glanced over his shoulder to see her looking down at the huge lizard, knowing what she intended to do.

“He can’t get out,” she said, kneeling down beside the Komodo dragon, at least twice her size. She put her whole weight behind it, but couldn’t heave it out of the hole like she wanted to. She was well suited to the role she played despite what critics were saying –he knew she had the heart of a warrior inside such a small body.

The disgruntled lizard turned towards her and his eyes narrowed as its venomous maw reached for her exposed leg.

Before Hibari could jump into the pit and likely incite the wrath of dozens of animal welfare groups the world over, Yamamoto leapt in to wrangle the lizard back into what looked like an elaborate harness, a pack of dogs at his heels.

“Now, now, be good,” he chastised the lizard as he wrestled it into a harness.

Chrome climbed out of the hole to join Hibari, taking in the scene of destruction around them and the loose perimeter of security around the set. If this had happened years ago, the paparazzi would have been waiting to greet her with their dizzying flashes and intrusive lines of questioning. Now the only one waiting for her was her personal bodyguard, his presence enough of a warning for them all to stay back and give her the space she needed.

Hibari gave her a quick once-over.

“I’m okay,” she answered.

Satisfied, he turned away and she followed.

She was joined by Fran who seemed to materialize beside her, but because she didn’t react in alarm, Hibari did nothing. Over the months of filming, Fran had taken a shine to his co-star despite not knowing the idol prior to meeting on set, and Hibari had grown to accept that he would follow Chrome around though neither of them acknowledged the others’ existence.

“You have to stop breaking the fourth wall when we’re filming,” Chrome chastised lightly, referencing their takes from earlier in the day.

But Fran was staring off into space. “Huh?”

“You can’t just start listing off everything you see when you forget your lines,” she continued as they walked side by side.

“Oh, I’m narrating,” Fran replied airily.

“The film already has a narrator,” Chrome replied, looking ahead at Hibari’s retreating back.

“That creepy prophecy girl,” Fran said.

“Oh... mmhm,” she agreed softly.

“I mean she’s here.”

Chrome looked over with an owlish gaze. Hibari stopped a ways away but cast a watchful glance over his shoulder when he sensed her hesitation. He regarded the newcomer curiously.

Yuni approached with a bright smile. “Chrome-chan! Could I get your autograph?”

After a pause, the popstar nodded and accepted the poster and pen that Yuni held to her.

“What do you do after filming?” Yuni asked, hands clasped in front of her, leaning in with inquisitive politesse as Chrome signed the poster.

“Go back to my trailer and review my lines for tomorrow,” Chrome responded, handing the items back.

“I always knew you were dedicated!” Yuni smiled, holding the poster as if it were a treasure.

“We never do anything fun,” Fran complained.

“Can I join you?” Yuni asked. “We can order dinner and go over our lines together! It’ll be fun!”

Fran looked over at Chrome, thinking she would decline, tilting his head curiously when she nodded. “Ohh?”

Yuni fell into step beside them. “Chrome-chan, don’t you ever get lonely when you’re touring?” Yuni asked.

“Ah! Well...” She averted her eye, looking at Hibari’s retreating back. He had gotten bored and decided to go on ahead by himself. “No,” she replied, “not lonely.”

___

“He’s going to tear you apart later,” Haru said as Gokudera ran past them, shooting a glare at Yamamoto. She had collected Bianchi’s robe from the centre of the set and was holding it tightly to her chest until she could more carefully examine it at her workdesk.

Pushing the lizard into its cage, Yamamoto laughed sheepishly. “You think so?”

“Especially when he finds out you weren’t paying attention.”

Yamamoto laughed again. “What do you mean?” But his laugh had given him away and Haru raised an eyebrow at him.

But before she could say anything about how he had been chatting up the director’s godson who had come to visit him, he went on the offensive, his smile charmingly disarming. The pack of dogs milled about around his legs, bumping him this way and that, and he reached down to ruffle their fluffy heads as their tongues lolled out. “You’ve been spending too much time together if you’re making that face!”

Haru’s cheeks coloured immediately but she couldn’t hide the brief scowl that had preceded it. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

He didn’t spare her. “You know, Gokudera!” he replied, leaving her fuming as he ran off, followed by chorus of happily barking mutts. “Put in a good word for me, thanks!”

___

“Luckily Hibari-san saved most of Chrome-chan’s outfit,” Haru said, letting the light material of Chrome’s dress flow between her fingers as she inspected the fabric.

“You mean luckily she’s unhurt right?” Gokudera corrected with a raised eyebrow.

Haru plowed on as if she hadn’t heard him, pretending she wasn’t very aware of the way his eyebrow arched after Yamamoto had pointed out the habit she had picked up. “But Bianchi’s dress is completely ruined! That was our last set for the take before we went onto the scene where she destroys the dress in the lake with the selkies!”

He looked over at the scraps of white material that Haru held onto. It didn’t look like there was much left of the robe; she would have to make another one from scratch. “Yeah well just make another one or something.” He wondered if she would be able to find a replacement in time.

Her head whipped around and she finally fixed her attention on him. If only she wasn’t glaring daggers. “Excuse me! I can’t just make another one like you replace your fireworks.”

He glowered right back. “They’re not fireworks, they’re pyrotechnics. You know this; I’ve explained it to you a million times.”

“And I’ve explained it to you ten million times –these costumes take time!” Haru huffed and laid the pieces of fabric down on the table between them. He could still see the pieces of golden thread wound through the white material, frayed where his devices had torn through them, scorched like the earth on the set that was still smouldering.

She didn’t say anything else, turning her attention back to the work that needed to be done, only noticing that he had walked out after he was gone. He came and went, and she continued with her spot checks on Chrome’s skirt, only giving him a cursory glance when he entered and exited, collecting more objects each time until the table between them filled with flammable compounds all labelled in Gokudera’s neat script, various accelerants, and an assortment of casings and ignitors.

But she paused to look up from her sewing machine when his last trip had him kicking the door shut behind him. He wouldn’t meet her eyes as he deposited in front of her a few bolts of white fabric and golden thread.

“They all look the same,” he grumbled. “I brought them all so you won’t lecture me on the difference between them again.”

“Thanks,” Haru said slowly, turning over the bolts in her hands; there wasn’t much left so she had no margin for error, but what he had brought her was enough. She could make it work.

She pulled a bottle of milk tea from her yellow-polka-dotted lunchbag sitting on the ground next to her, followed by a can that she had grabbed as an afterthought from the convenience store the other day. She placed them both on the table and slid the canned coffee over to him, avoiding the minefield spread out between them.

Gokudera took his seat across from her and accepted the drink, cracking it open with one hand while he swept his hair back out of his face with the other. “Thanks,” he said quietly but she had already turned her attention back to her work. He took a drink of the coffee – she had managed to keep it cold in her insulated lunchbag for him.

The first time they had had to put in overtime like this, there had been a large accident and all spaces on set were being used by the production team and crew members and the two of them had ended up crammed into an abandoned cast member’s room that was purported to be haunted.

She had been anxious to share a crammed workspace with him at first, worried about the potential of something going wrong or of an accidental misfire. But then she had seen how precise his movements were, how carefully he measured out each component and assembled the explosives. His hands were steady as he wired each device, each component meticulously labelled and accounted for.

This night was no different. Gokudera worked in silence, headphones on, expression focused and serene, goggles secured, sitting crookedly on his chair. His usually prickly personality evened out his aura was almost peaceful as he ran his fingers over a length of magnesium ribbon thoughtfully. He reconsidered and picked up the firefly aluminum instead, pushing aside a container of iron oxide to make more space for it.

Haru always grew too engrossed in her work to notice how he observed her in return; the subtle way her brow furrowed as her eyes roved over her work to ensure perfection in each detail, whether it be correcting a crooked stitch or dyeing a slight discolouration in raw materials she received. Her fingers worked nimbly as she straightened out the large pins that kept her creation in place, each movement deliberate and careful as gold ran through her hands and became something more.

They looked up at each other when their stomachs growled, faces aglow from the flickering lights of the jack-o-lanterns that lined the edges of their shared workbench.

Haru smiled and did a quick back stitch to hold her place before she picked up her cellphone. “It’s going to be a long night. I’ll order us some ramen!”

___

“So you didn’t go on?” Dino asked.

“No we couldn’t shoot any of the selkie scenes because you started a fire on set,” Squalo replied as they walked down the dark street, unevenly lit by streetlights. He kicked an empty can down the road as they walked.

“Aww it was an accident! I thought I’d be able to catch you in your mermaid suit today,” Dino said, bending down to pick the can up when they reached it. “I didn’t think that there would be so many cute dogs on the set to play with.”

“It’s not a mermaid suit! It takes fucking forever to get the selkie makeup and prosthetics on in the morning. It’s heavy as shit.” He glowered. “I thought a supermodel would get it.”

Dino tossed the can up and down in his hand, chuckling softly. “Nothing super here, just a model,” he replied. “How’s Reborn treating you?”

“The man’s tough. I can see why you gave up on acting,” Squalo answered.

“Yeah he said I’ve got the charisma but couldn’t act to save my life. Then he shot at me!”

Squalo threw his head back, laughing uproariously. “Fucking kills me every time you tell that story. They say he’s unorthodox but they’ve got no fucking idea.”

The can slipped from Dino’s fingers and hit him in the head before bouncing over the pavement. He sighed before leaning over to pick it up, only to be yanked backwards by his friend.  A motor scooter zipped by right where Dino had been standing moments earlier.

“Lambo, step on it!” a voice commanded as they flew past. “Halloween’s a busy night for delivery requests!”

“VOI!” Squalo took off after them, yelling obscenities. He scooped up the can that Dino had dropped and whipped it at their retreating backs. “Watch where you’re going!”

When he realized that Dino wasn’t following, he retraced his steps only to find him crouched on the sidewalk with two children at his side. The older one had red hair and was dressed as a storm trooper. The only reason that Squalo could tell that he had red hair was because his helmet lay on the ground. The younger child was clinging onto Dino’s back, yelling at a group of teenagers across the street.

“I’m the mighty Skull! You can’t talk to me like that!”

The trio of bullies laughed and jeered.

“Give us our candy back!” Skull yelled. “O-or you’ll pay the consequences! Enma! Show them!”

“Oh yeah?” they jeered. “What’s going to happen? Are you going to get your stormtrooper to shoot us?”

Enma turned red and looked down at his shoes.

“That’s enough!” Dino said sternly. “Give them their candy back.”

But Squalo had enough experience dealing with Dino’s bullies during their school days to know that wouldn’t work. So he loomed over behind them. “VOI! What are you shitheads doing?”

His sudden appearance and shouting startled them and they jumped in surprise, spinning around to face him. His smile was sinister as he cracked his knuckles.

“Squalo! You can’t hit kids!” Dino exclaimed, putting his hand over Skull’s eyes, or at least where he assumed his eyes to be under his visor.

“I don’t see any brats here,” Squalo said, smirking down at them. “I see a shitty vampire, a half-assed wizard, and a... what the hell are you supposed to be?”

The teen responded indignantly through the furry mask covering his face. “A werewolf!”

Squalo squinted. “And crackhead bigfoot here.”

He unsheathed the sword he had at his side that Dino had told him not to take off the set.

“Oh shit he’s insane!”

“Yo let’s dip!”

The teens turned to run, and Squalo followed in pursuit.

Dino sighed and turned his attention to the two kids that stayed with him. Enma watched in silent dismay as Squalo chased down the bullies, catching them by the end of the block.

“What are you dressed as?” Dino asked.

“I’m Skull! The World’s Greatest Hitman!” he answered as if that didn’t leave Dino with more questions than he had started with. “And this is my brother Enma!”

Dino picked up Enma’s stormtrooper helmet and brushed off the scuffs and leaves as best as he could before giving it back to him. He thanked Dino so quietly that he thought the child had mouthed the words.

Squalo returned to their side, sheathing the prop sword and shoving the pillowcases full of candy at Enma. He stuttered a surprised thank you, gathering the superman and Mickey Mouse pillowcases into his arms, grimacing a little as some candy spilled out.

Dino scooped them into his hand and pressed a lollipop into Skull’s fingers before straightening up and putting the rest of the candy back into the pillowcases that Enma held tightly.

“Hey, I know a place that hands out jumbo-sized candy bars,” Dino said.

“Really!?” Skull’s face was obscured by the oversized biker helmet that he wore, but Dino could tell his eyes had widened by the way his voice jumped an octave.

“Haha yeah!” Dino assured. “It’s where we’re headed now if you want to come along?”

“Hey! Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to follow strange men that offer you candy?” Squalo shouted.

Enma looked between apprehensively but nodded. “Stay close,” he murmured, holding his hand out to Skull who ignored it and ran ahead.

“I’ll lead the way!”

“You don’t know where you’re going!” Enma ran after him across the street.

“Look both ways!” Dino called, starting after them, but tripped halfway through the crosswalk.

Squalo caught his arm and righted him gruffly. “Watch it.”

“Thanks Squalo!” Dino grinned.

“Yeah, yeah.” Squalo waved him off. “There’s idiots out here on their shitty vespas; if you got killed by one it’d be pathetic as fuck.”

___

“Thank you!” Yuni called from within the trailer.

“Ah, yeah, thanks,” Fran mumbled, already digging into their order.

Chrome thanked I-Pin as she stepped away from the door.

“That extra order won’t last until a midnight snack,” I-Pin warned.

“There’s no extra order,” Chrome replied, a little confusion bleeding into her tone.

“There were four orders,” I-Pin said, quickly checking the order ticket on her phone. “But three people.”

Chrome placed the fourth order of ramen on at the top of the stairs and looked up. “It’s not an extra.” I-Pin followed her gaze up to the moon. Seeing nothing, she shrugged and wished her a good night before bounding down the stairs to return to where Lambo sat waiting on the vespa.

“Ready?” she asked, putting her helmet on.

“W-w-what’s that?!”

I-Pin looked back at Lambo’s whimper to see him pointing up above the moonlit trailer with a trembling finger.

A silhouetted figure sat on top of the trailer, reclined comfortably with one leg bent in perfect repose. The moon was too bright to see the features of the figure’s face but she could tell they were being watched with lazy predation.

“I-Pin, let’s go!”

The waver in his voice made her trailer and hop on the back of the vespa again, knowing he wouldn’t drive off without her, but that he would cry if they stayed any longer with the spooky atmosphere.

Sitting in reverse with her back against Lambo’s, holding the rest of their deliveries close to her chest, she kept her eyes on the spirit that watched over Chrome until the trees grew so tall they obscured the moon, folding themselves over between them until she could no longer see the trailer or Chrome’s protector as they sped away through the night.

Only when Chrome went back inside did Hibari leap down gracefully to eat the dinner she had left for him.

___

She heard his approach but did not acknowledge it. Byakuran stayed in the entryway of the greenhouse, just watching her care for the toadflax that was a stand-in for the fantasy silk sage. He thought it ironic that she dedicated her attention to a plant that symbolized the desire for the recipient to notice of the giver’s love.

“You noticed the plants were dry when we were filming?”

Bianchi lowered the watering can from the silk sage plant and set it down beside the pot.

“You did too,” she replied. “And you almost broke character.”

“Not all of us perfectly embody our personas,” he said a little plaintively.

She registered his petulant pout and exaggerated expression and thought he fit the bill of a self-indulgent demon rather well.

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Oh,” he repeated a little more softly.

They lapsed into silence as she ran her fingers over the soft leaves that the fictional plant was named for.

She looked up when he approached, painfully aware of his proximity like they had been over the last months of filming together, in a weighted and measured dance with the other, like the gravity of stars drawn together, or the certainty of waves to the shore.

He held up a cluster of flowers to her that looked to be what they used in place of the blood blossoms on set, except the rich colour was much more pigmented and there was an enigmatic scent emanating from them. “What do you think?”

She leaned towards the flowers he offered, holding a strand of hair away from her face; her eyes closed slowly and she inhaled deeply.

“An amaranth.” Bianchi pulled back slightly, the strand of hair slipping over her shoulder to trace lightly over his forearm. She looked up through her thick lashes at him, eyes lidded and lips parted in a small smile. “Decadent.”

He smiled back, pulling away entirely, that strand of her hair trailing down his arm. He let it slip through his fingers. “An amaranth,” he agreed. “For immortality.”

“Immortality?” she repeated breathily, stepping over to close the distance he had created between them.

Byakuran took another step back with a teasing laugh. “For an undying love.”

He seemed to float out of her reach even without the animatronic wings and the wires he wore during filming, but she kept pace with him, used to his movements from the time they spent on set together, with him as her shadow. They were very familiar with each others’ bodies.

“Now why would you give me such a flower?” she asked, her voice low.

He pulled the flower close to his chest before lifting it to his nose to breathe in its scent. “I didn’t give you anything!”

She continued her approach until he found himself with his back against the wall, the moonlight slanting through the glass panels of the ceiling.

“Maybe I’ll take it,” she murmured, plucking it from his fingers and placing it in his breast pocket.

“Should I keep calling you by pet names?”

“Well, it’s gauche to ask a witch for her true name.” He played along; it was hard not to recognize her as the face of the perfume industry, from magazine covers and red carpet events.

“You may continue to call me Byakuran; after all, you named me, witch.”

She played along too; she knew him from his youtube channel, avidly watching his every dessert mukbang video, every unboxing, and every sweet shop review.

“Is that right, demon?” She purred against his lips. He could feel the warmth emanating from her as her body pinned his to the wall, dizzy from that citrus scent wafting from her skin.

“Hurry! The noodles are getting soggy!”

Byakuran pulled the woman further into the shadows, whispering a quiet shhh in her ear, and Bianchi pressed closer still as two people rushed through the greenhouse, one in a red uniform and the other in a cowprint shirt. They darted through the set without so much as a glance around them and then they were gone out the other end.

“Okay, okay, there’s a shortcut through here... Geez, It’s not like Haru will let Gokudera kill us if we’re late again.”

“I’ll kill you if we’re late again!”

Bianchi didn’t even so much as glance over at them, taking the opportunity to pin him against the wall with her gaze. He watched their exit over her shoulder with a dispassionate smile. She wanted to make him feel something.

Wearing her shroud of night, she pulled him under, but the angel wasn’t as unmoved as he seemed. She leaned in to test the waters, just simmering below the surface, and he closed the distance himself to have a taste.

___

“Take care!” Tsuna waved to Enma and Skull as Yamamoto put the bowl of candy down on the side table. The green paint on Yamamoto’s neck and face was starting to rub off on the collar of his shirt, and Tsuna tried not to worry about the staining it would cause in the laundry.

Leave it to his boyfriend to use stage makeup taken from the film set to turn himself into a classic zombie.

Dino hovered just behind them, staring out down the path after them. “You think they’ll be okay?” he asked.

Tsuna shut the front door as Squalo laughed, having already made himself comfortable on the couch, feet up on the coffee table. “Go trick-or-treating with them if you’re that worried,” he called.

Yamamoto put a jumbo chocolate bar in Dino’s hands before leading him over to take a seat beside Squalo. “They’ll be fine!” His flippant tone was somehow reassuring and Dino allowed Yamamoto to take his coat. “They’ve got enough candy in their pillowcases to use them like clubs now!”

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing,” Tsuna said, making a face.

An orange tabby cat immediately jumped onto Dino’s lap.

“Even the cat loves you,” Squalo remarked as Natsu settled in and curled up on him, purring up a storm. “Just like the dogs today,” he finished, inclining his head towards Yamamoto who only smiled up at Tsuna, perched on the armrest.

Remembering the hours it had taken to get the prosthetics on only for it to have been wasted and then taken off, Squalo frowned at Yamamoto’s feigned innocence and Tsuna’s flustered guilt.

“Dino and I wanted to visit everyone,” Tsuna began.

“We wanted to get a sneak peek,” Dino said. “Especially since Reborn was making a movie based on Tsuna’s dream!”

“And you got distracted!” Squalo reprimanded, not letting Yamamoto off the hook even though he just laughed it off.

“Tsuna told me I forgot to buy the Halloween candy!” Yamamoto recounted. “But he forgot to prepare dinner for us, so we’re even!”

The doorbell rang again and Tsuna turned away from Dino and Squalo lounging on the couch to answer it, but Yamamoto beat him to it, jogging over with firm hand on Tsuna’s shoulder to tell him to stay put and enjoy his chat, and a quick kiss pressed to his cheek in passing to casually remind him he was adored.

“You said there would be dinner!” Squalo shouted after him.

“Yes, yes,” he called back as he scooped up the bowl of candy and answered the door.

On the other side of the doorframe, Lambo jumped in surprise as a zombie opened the door.

“Delivery!” I-Pin said brightly.

“Oh! I-Pin! Lambo!” he greeted. “That was fast!”

I-Pin rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to be nice, Yamamoto-san. Lambo took his time today. I would’ve driven like you taught me.”

Yamamoto laughed as she handed over his order of ramen. He held the bowl of candy out to I-Pin and she selected a few lollipops for Lambo.

“Yeah, but Lambo,” Yamamoto asked. “I thought you had a Halloween party to go to tonight?” He hesitated when Lambo flapped his hands and began waving his arms, giving him a panicked look.

I-Pin looked between the two of them confusedly.

“Ahh!” Yamamoto smiled knowingly. “I know! You’re helping her out on the scariest night of the year instead of going to the party!”

“VOI!”

Lambo and I-Pin jumped at the voice of the man that had pursued them doggedly earlier in the night. Squalo stalked over to the door to confirm that they were also the one and the same.

“It’s you on that shitty vespa!” Squalo growled.

“Um, trick or treat?” Lambo squeaked, backing away.

I-Pin was one step ahead of him, running back to the motor scooter. “Lambo, let’s go!”

He stumbled away from the door, jumping onto the back of the scooter and grabbing onto the seat for dear life as she took off without warning.

“I-Pin, slow down!” Lambo screamed.

“We gotta’ get to your party!” she called back.

He held his helmet to his head as the chinstrap flapped in the wind, staring at her back. “Don’t we have more deliveries to do?”

“I’ve only got one more for the night,” she replied, “and it’s me getting you to your Halloween party!”

“Oh no you don’t!”

Lambo shrieked as he saw that Squalo and his fury were gaining ground on them. He spun around in the seat, throwing his arms around her waist. “I-Pin, speed up!”

“That, I can do! Hold on tight!” she called back as they raced off into the night, or at least as quickly as the scooter would allow. Lambo held her tightly and hoped that they would arrive unscathed; but also that maybe when they did, she would accept his invitation to join him.

___

The sky was a bright grey, with golden rays filtering through. The full moon had cast long shadows in the night and it would soon pass the torch to the sun’s radiance. Daybreak was eminent over the graveyard, and the night was almost over, but not just yet.

Haru stretched and yawned, uncurling from the position she had held over her sewing machine through the night. She laid out Chrome’s repaired garments and the new robe that she had worked ceaselessly on for Bianchi. After the work was done, she was left with about a yard of material – too small to do anything with besides being used as scrap. She shook it out to remove loose threads and then folded it neatly at her side.

Gokudera had put his head down to rest hours earlier. Haru had noticed when he did not get back up. His back was rising and falling evenly with each breath, his goggles discarded beside his sleeping face. Crates of neatly stacked sticks of dynamite sat around him, carefully prepared and ready to be set off at a moment’s notice.

She stood to clear the empty takeout boxes overturned on the table between them, the disposable chopsticks unbalancing the empty Styrofoam containers. She hoped he liked the ramen she had ordered more than the instant noodles he would have made for them with the electric kettle he had kicked into the corner a few days back; she knew he would not have easily allowed himself the luxury of ordering food if he could find a quicker alternative on his own.

But then again, he was unused to someone else caring for his needs.

Smiling, Haru fluffed out the scrap of fabric again; it wasn’t large enough to be useful in any other way, but it would serve well enough to keep him warm. She settled the small white sheet over his shoulders and reached down to touch his cheek, but paused with her fingers hovering just over his face. Reconsidering, she picked up his can of coffee, swished it around, and finished it. He would wake soon and grumble about the makeshift blanket, but not just yet.

___

*

“Stop sighing already. You’re a Mist, you should feel right at home.”

“I take offense on that.”

MM puts her arm around her shoulders, pulls her into her side. “Listen, we’re going to put an end to these ridiculous rumors, and give one less reason to people to mock our school. We’re going to be heroes!”

“You want us to dig up a body,” Chrome says. “It’s very disrespectful.”

MM scoffs. “And what do we look like? Saints?”

She goes ahead before Chrome can admonish her some more. Chrome sighs, and doesn’t try to catch up to her—but does make sure she stays in the reach of her flashlight.

She wanted to do trick or treat for this Halloween with the others. She even toured the stores to find the perfect pirate costume.

MM promised they would do it once they’d be done desecrating an innocent grave, but wouldn’t everyone be asleep by then?

Chrome also promised to call Kyoko and Haru so they could tell each other how their night went, and it’s going to be embarrassing if she hasn’t anything to share.

“Chrome, hurry up! I found it.”

Chrome lights the unmarked tombstone with her flashlight. It’s oddly clean despite the moss and roots and weeds surrounding its base, even when she knows the rumors are several years old.

She steps back, lights the ground in front of it. She steps closer, crouches to see it better.

This looks like fresh dirt.

“Mi-chan.”

“So that’s the infamous grave.” MM stomps on the ground, sticks her nose up in the air at the tombstone. “Well, we’re here now, ready to dig you up. Why don’t you come out and punish us?”

The wind blows, seeps right through her skin to her bones, chilling and biting. It rustles the leaves and the branches, and it’s like the graveyard whispers in a language they can’t understand.

Everything stills then, not a leaf crunching under their feet, the silence echoing the more it lasts.

“Mi-chan.”

MM laughs. “Yeah, I thought so. Come on Chrome, give me a shovel and let’s be done with that.”

That they could agree on. MM hands her her flashlight, and she gives her a Mist constructed shovel in return.

Chrome stands watch as she gets to work, the flashlights only reaching three tombstones to the sides, and barley one past the unmarked one.

It’s a starless night, the half moon hidden behind the clouds. The darkness seems palpable, the vague figures of tombstones and trees swallowed by it if she doesn’t focus enough.

The silence deafens her, the noises of MM’s shovel like a countdown to whatever has her so tense.

Chrome purses her lips as the wind blows again. “I don’t like how the wind sounds,” she whispers. A noise draws her attention, and she points the flashlights to the grave behind theirs. “Did you hear that?” A something registers at the corner of her eye, and she whips around. “Did you see that?”

Chrome listens carefully, but she doesn’t hear anything, not even MM’s shovel. She turns to her, to the tight grip around her shovel, the worried look on her face.

MM laughs, shaky and weak. “What are you doing Chrome? Trying to scare me? Please, as if I’d be afraid of something like this.”

“No, I—” The flashlights flicker, one, two times, then multiple times in a row.

MM laughs again, and it sounds hysteric-like. “You’re doing this.”

“I’m not!”

Chrome knocks the flashlights against her palm. The flickers stop.

They start again, even more quick than before, until both of the flashlights die down for good.

MM screams, high-pitched and terrified.

Chrome jumps out of her skin, her heart in her throat. The flashlights fall to the ground, and she constructs another one, which is sure to not fail them.

MM fell down, and frantically kicks at the—

Kicks at the skeleton hand gripping her foot. There’s dirt on it, and decrepit flesh still, and maggots crawling on it.

Chrome’s stomach turns.

“Chrome, help, help! Kill it! It really came out, it’s going to take me with them! Kill it!”

“But it’s already dead!”

Chrome takes a step forward but thinks better of it. She constructs a rope, throws it to MM, and she hangs on it for dear life.

Another hand sprouts from the floor to grip her other foot, and the first one crawls higher up her leg.

MM trashes on the ground, her screams impossibly more high-pitched.

The ground shakes, and Chrome immediately points the flashlight to the ground. God forbid the hand of a dead body hangs onto her.

The ground opens in two in front of the grave behind the zombie’s one. A body crawls out of it, not skeleton like but their skin unnaturaly pale, their clothes torn apart.

It crawls forward, its head ducked down, its hair falling in front of his face. It hangs on the first zombie’s grave, peers above it with one red eye.

Peers at Chrome with one red eye.

Chrome points her trident at him, with a shaky hand. “Don’t—don’t come any closer. Stay where you are.”

“Chrome, Chrome!” Chrome keeps her eyes on the zombie—the way it keeps her eyes on her—which slowly rises to its feet. “Chrome!”

Chrome snaps her eyes to MM. She looks somewhere behind her, her teary eyes wide and terrified.

Terrified for her.

And whatever it is, it’s coming from her bad eye’s side.

“Turn back and you’re lost,” a something says, with a guttural voice that chills her to the bones.

MM pulls on the rope. “The zombie’s looking at me! Chrome the zombie’s looking at him, do something!”

Do something? This is all her fault!

Chrome can’t move, can’t even swallow or shiver, now hyper aware of the Thing in her back. The Thing out of her sight.

The Thing that’s creeping closer, and she apparently can’t look at.

“But won’t you turn back to me anyway?” it says. “Let me look at you.”

It laughs, or she thinks that’s what the gurgles sounds are supposed to be. A something curls around her wrist, and she doesn’t dare look down.

It licks her, and it’s the most gross sensation she ever felt.

MM’s zombie bursts from the floor, as the other one jumps from the grave, straight at her. Chrome whips around, nose to nose with the Thing.

The monsters scream.

MM screams.

Chrome screams.

Chrome brings down her trident in a powerful move, spins it above her head as she spins around, and slashes at the zombies.

She stands in front of MM, unconscious on the floor, her trident in front of her.

“Be—begone monsters! I won’t forgive you!”

Chrome musters the most threatening look she can at the moment. The monsters laugh at her.

She blinks. Then her eyes widen, and she gapes as the mist illusions unravel.

“Ken, Chikusa, Mukuro-kun!”

Ken doubles over laughing, crying from laughter already. “Carrot head fainted—byon. Did you see that Kakipi, Mukuro-san?”

“Obviously Ken,” Chikusa says, grinning all the same, “I was right there.”

“I hope your cameras were on boys. We need to be able to reminisce on this glorious moment perfectly.”

Chrome feels hot on the face. She charges forward, brings down her trident on them once more.

How could they?

“This was not funny!”

“Maybe not for you,” Chikusa says, actually chuckling.

Ken rolls on the floor, hysterically laughing, and because she’s not the type to attack a man already down, Chrome goes after Chikusa.

Mukuro gets between them soon enough, and her trident goes right through him.

She keeps bringing it down on him anyway.

Mukuro chuckles. “Now, now, you’re not laughing now but in due time I’m sure it’ll come. Here, we actually have something nice for you.”

Chikusa creeps back closer, drags Ken up as he walks past him, and the three of them stands in front of her. They reach in their pockets, and throws something in her face.

Candies?

“Happy first Halloween, my dear Chrome. We bought those, but what do you say we go earning ourselves some more candies?”

Oh, they will not get out of this one that easily. They will not, she means it, but she can get back at them any time.

Halloween is only that night.

Chrome lowers her trident. She huffs, tries to hide her smile as best she can.

MM and her will get back at them next Halloween for sure. They’ll see who’ll be the ones laughing then.

*

Chrome isn’t disguised in this but it’s actually such a funny image I should have included it.

MM disguises herself as the Queen of Hearts. Ken is a werewolf, Chikusa a vampire, and Mukuro a cryptid creature or another, idk you make it up lmao.

And that’s right, Chrome instinctual response to supernatural bullshit is fucking their shit up, and I think it’s very sexy of her

“Why are we still here?” Fran’s voice whined in monotone. He looked up from where he was nestled in the crook of her arm, pressed close to her chest as she squatted in the woodland.

The girl paid no attention to the large bullfrog she cradled other than to shush him softly. Her other arm was extended towards the two humanoid figures that always crept at the edges of her vision. Her eyepatch was slipping slightly, but she didn’t have a free hand to push it up and she couldn’t make any sudden movements lest she startle the creatures.

The basket of puffball mushrooms and herbs she had collected sat at her feet as she pushed the wildberry pastries and meat pies toward the cryptids that lurked at the edge of the clearing. The lizard creature hung back with watchful eyes while the larger, furry beast crept forward, only having eyes for the pastries that she offered.

Nagi knew what Fran was referring to.

It had begun with accusations against the most vulnerable of their town. The orphan girl that lived in the alleys behind the church refused to dress in anything other than slacks and had evaded capture from the authorities for years until she was found stealing a lamb. She was imprisoned on charges of witchcraft on the grounds that she was procuring lamb’s blood for a ritual, but on the eve that she would have been burned, she vanished from her cell. The council proclaimed that her escape was due to black magic, and the villagers whispered that it was the shepherd’s son that had liberated her in the night, but Nagi had seen how young woman had chipped through the bars and manoeuvred through the narrow space of the window, climbing to freedom and disappearing into the night.

Fear continued to spread, and soon it was a young girl that lived on the outskirts of the village that predicted the deaths of many officials on the town council. Nagi thought that the pinpoint accuracy of the girl’s visions was miraculous, but the villagers had cried witchcraft and had the girl imprisoned awaiting trial. A noblewoman passing through town had tried to use her position to leverage mercy for them found herself on the receiving end of their ire as well. It was rumoured that she was to be drowned in the morning.

Then it was the woman who ran the apothecary because she cared for a colony of feral cats and the nature of her product made the judges chary. Her accusations were followed by that of an escort that dared to express her disdain at the witch hunt. Nagi and Fran had only noticed because their master had been rather fond of the red-haired woman’s company and her churlish character. They had left their woodland hut and gone into town that day to check in on her, basket on her arm filled with meat pies and sweet tarts, and Fran hidden inside from the prying eyes of the public. M.M. had looked at her with the same disdain she had regarded the judges with, but she had accepted the creel through the barred basement window only to scream and throw it all back at her when she reached in and touched the frog familiar.

Nagi had scooped up the remains of the ruined pastries as M.M. yelled, cursing up such a storm at the witch’s retreating back that guards came running. They had seen her face as she withdrew, her one eye wide with fear as M.M. shouted that Fran had been such a majestic owl and that Nagi was a horrible witch that had turned him into a disgusting toad. The guards gave chase as she made a beeline for the tree line, but traversed no further into the fae domain.

She ran with Fran in her arms until she was sure they were no longer being pursued but decided to take a detour back to their home on the off chance they were being followed, taking the opportunity to collect puffball mushrooms for dinner, along with ember marjoram along the path for a simple warding spell around their home, and spark rue, thistlecress, and bearberries for a protective charm she wanted to try on Fran.

He didn’t think they could stay undetected in their forest home any longer as they waited for their master to return from his journey, but their conversation had been interrupted when Nagi noticed the cryptids shadowing them, the same ones that often circled their home in the night and that Nagi had been feeding.

“Who would take care of Chikusa and Ken if we left?”

“Gross,” Fran croaked. “You named them.”

“I named you too,” Nagi reminded. She remembered the owl familiar perched on its master’s shoulder with the same mismatched eyes and then tried not to remember her benefactor’s imperious gaze and impish smile because he was no longer with them.

His wit sharp as ever, Fran immediately had a response ready. “I’m a frog; I can’t process human emotions.”

Nagi fixed him with a stare until he let out a resounding ribbet that sent the werewolf and lizard creature scurrying away into the darkness, leaving a trail of crumbs in their wake; at least they had eaten some. Satisfied, she straightened up and brushed off her pleated skirt, readjusting her grip on Fran. “Why a frog though? You’re a shapeshifter and you used to take on the form of an owl.”

“Apprentices don’t get to be choosy,” he replied disinterestedly. “Creepy, evil perverts shouldn’t get to be picky either.”

She felt a shudder run down Fran’s spine and she patted his head right between his bulging eyes. “He put a hex on you to activate whenever you badmouth him, didn’t he?”

“And if I even think about leaving this form. Even beyond the grave, he’s still a creepy, evil, pervert sadist,” the frog whined. “It was for the good of the world that he croaked… ouch.”

“Your master’s just on a journey right now,” Nagi said, “and you’ve been entrusted to me.”

“You know it’s the other way around right? He said that after he offed himself, to make sure he was buried in that specific plot in the cemetery, and not to raise him from hell until he was ready. Oh and he said that I had to look after the little witch girl with no powers.”

Nagi ignored the slight at her weak magical ability. “We can’t leave until he returns. We have to protect his home.”

“It’s your home too.”

He got the last word because she didn’t know what to say.

A mob of crows cawed as they took wing from the bristly pines and peeling birch trees that lined the path. A crisp autumnal breeze caught the cacophony and lifted it to the skies, somber, grey, and cold.

___

It didn’t take long for the village to organize an expedition into the woods. Nagi had been wrong; they were more afraid of a witch than they were of the fae. They showed at dusk as Nagi and Fran were collecting mellow moss and aster tubers by the creek, as all witches knew this was the best time for a quality harvest.

Fran had shifted into a human form to assist her, pantlegs rolled up to his knees as he waded into the creek in search of the slippery plants she needed for her various soups and potions (he couldn’t reliably tell the difference). He kept a cheeky cap on his head with a frog face which he had found that kept him within the parameters of the enchantment his master had placed on him.

He had noticed their approach first, and Nagi soon after when she felt the subtle change in his demeanour from comfortably uncouth to forced nonchalance. Stepping out of the creek, he returned to her side.

“Fran,” she murmured, reaching towards him as he came closer.

“What? Gross,” he said but made no move to avoid the fingers she trailed across his cheek.

“We can run,” she said, placing her hand a little more cogently on his face.

“We could.”

“But I would slow you down?” she surmised, letting her hand fall back to her side.

He looked back impassively, following the downward trail of her hand, their expressions mirrored. “No, but this sadist master of mine has a hut in this forest that this cute witch girl with no powers is determined to protect until he returns from his reincarnation journey.” Fran sighed peevishly as the hex activated. He ignored it and shifted his preferred human form into a perfect copy of Nagi, dark haired and birdlike.  

She looked him up and down, knowing full well what his plan was; but she couldn’t let him do that. Torches flickered in the nearing distance. He saw the same flicker in her eye. “We could fight.”

“You should run,” he said mildly as if he were commenting on the weather. “If you want to live, then bet your life on finding that corpse’s ring. That should have enough juice to enhance even your ability.”

“I’m not going to leave you.”

The familiar looked the witch up and down before turning his back on her. Fog rolled in between them and thickened until the air felt heavy. “Okay then, I’ll go. Goodbye!”

His lacklustre departure and uncharacteristically bright goodbye confused her. Fran had said he didn’t understand human emotions, but if so, why did he use the fog to cover his face?

The little witch girl watched powerlessly as his form was slowly lost to the mist, pursued in her stead by a witch hunt. The torches flared like a warning, a beacon of terror; she waited until they passed and ran in the opposite direction, scooping up the basket filled with the fruits of their labour.

___

She ran until she reached their humble home, circled with a shroud of protective charms. The hazy enchantments parted for her as she ran up the steps and threw the wooden door open without hesitation. Nagi walked with purpose over to the corner of the kitchen, pushing aside a broomstick and an umbrella in her search. A pair of tall rubber boots fell over, and she grabbed the shovel that sat behind them. Hefting the spade over her shoulder, she cowed a little at the sudden weight, but caught herself before she toppled over backwards. Then she was out the door again, leaving behind their darkened home, basket of moss and tubers on the kitchen table, dinner uncooked.

Nagi knew the forest like the back of her hand, her footing sure as she flew through the dark, finding the quickest path through the undergrowth as if it were nothing. She had travelled these secret trails with her benefactor and his familiar many times before. Now she was alone, but determined to save them –to protect Fran and preserve the sanctity of their home— even if that meant disturbing his slumber.

The spot he had asked them to bury his body was in the corner of the cemetery, under a cluster of aspen trees on the unmarked plot, with their low hanging branches that had obscured the location. They had had to chop them away in order to lay him to rest after he began his journey through the different planes of existence. The places where they had marred the pure white bark had healed into dark scars, aspen eyes that now watched her every move. 

Nagi brushed off their gazes and wasted no time in breaking ground. It was harder than she thought, and she felt the reverberation through the handle, wincing slightly. Unable to afford a moment’s rest when Fran was in danger, she put her foot against the shovel and heaved until the earth gave way and turned over for her. She did it again and again until she could no longer stand, her arms and legs shaking.

She threw the shovel to the side, falling to her knees in the shallow hole, trying not to let the desperation overwhelm her. Shadows moved in the edges of her vision, and she jumped backwards not a moment too soon as a creature landed with a solid thud where she had been crouched.

The werewolf snarled and began digging away. “Ken,” she murmured. He grunted back at her as he dug so avidly it sprayed mud and grass all around them. 

A humanoid lizard slid down into the opened earth to join them, giving her what seemed like a nod before it began to tear at the hard ground as well. “Chikusa,” Nagi whispered. She watched them in stunned silence before wiping the sweat from her brow and joining them.

Her only companions beneath the moon were a beastly dog and scaly varanid that dug alongside her. Hands and knees in the dirt, fingers curled into claws, the broke through the earth, exhuming the unmarked grave until her bloody hands met cold fingers rising from the dirt.

Nagi took a deep breath and reached for the ring glinting in the low light. As soon as her fingers touched the cool metal, the world around her ignited, and explosion rocking through the cemetery with thunderous force, throwing her forward into the dirt.

Before she could recover, there was another explosion, and a flash of heat that flared above her head that made her press herself down into the ground before slowly raising her head to check if there was an opening for escape.

A dark figure loomed over the grave, silhouetted by an intense fire that blazed behind him. His dark hair fluttered with the blazing hot air, embers whipping past and illuminating his impassive face. His eyes were steely as he caught a projectile in his hand, regarding the flames it spat before casually tossing it aside. She cried out softly at the blast as it shook the ground again. The world was on fire and she could not understand why he was here, but knew that as long as he was, she was safe. 

She found her footing and got to her feet.

___

*

Colonnello smirks as he lands on the wooden floor of Lal’s room. She should know better than letting her windows open.

Now Colonnello isn’t the type to stalk her girlfriend, let alone question the ability of the best instructor he ever had to take care of herself.

But Lal won’t say anything about her new “friends” she hangs out with, and he heard things about them.

This is just a quick scouting mission. Get in, assess their threat level, and get out.

The shower’s running, and he starts his thirty minutes countdown on his watch, as Lal’s window is his only way out to not be seen.

Colonnello peers in the hallway, comes out of the room.

It’s unfortunate Lal’s room is in the middle of the hallway, but he counts on the fact they should all be asleep right now, or at the very east don’t intend to come out of their room again.

The light flicker, doesn’t reach far anyway even when it’s on, which is good. He could use that if worse comes to worst.

Colonnello creeps closer to the door next to Lal’s, pressed to the wall. He opens the door and peers inside.

There’s a man sat on the bed under the light of his bedside lamp, only half of his face visible, his tail curled around his waist.

Colonnello blinks, squints his eyes. A greenish scale-y tail does curl around his waist, the tip wiggling at the rhythm of the man’s hummed song.

Colonnello tears his eyes off it, to where he’s liming his nail with something awfully sharp. The man misses, and slices his fingers clean off.

He laughs. “Whoopsie, clumsy me.” He wiggles his fingers, greenish blood squirting everywhere. The fingers grow back. “Now, that’s better.”

The man stands, turns to the bedside table, the other half of his face now visible. It’s all green scales and no ear, a big round green pupil with a black slit in the middle of it.

The pupil moves all the way to the corner of the eye as the man’s head stays still. It looks straight at him.

Colonnello flattens himself against the wall.

Well, that was an impromptu and bad timed hallucination. He won’t look back inside to make sure of it, but it obviously can’t be anything else.

Colonnello looks back anyway at the feeling of eyes on him. Or more like he looks down, to the black suit wearing green lizard on the other side of the door.

It blinks slowly at him with very black human eyes, and sticks out his very pink human tongue.

Colonnello very silently but very quickly shuts the door. Lizard Man and his Man Lizard? Check.

Moving on.

He turns around, and freezes. From the door the furthest away across the hallway, comes out the pope.

The pope.

He’s a pregnant woman with a large, ridiculous round hat, but everything else fits.

Except the blood.

It stains her hands and her sleeves, stains her robe from her under belly to its hem, stains her feet.

She drags them on the wooden floor, leaving a trail of blood behind her, her face hidden in her hands. She sobs, not quite drowning the sound of her blood hitting the floor.

Colonnello doesn’t hear her mumbles yet. He does hear her wails, her tortured screams, and a chill runs down his spine.

The fact no one comes out of their room reassures him in the fact he’s just hallucinating again. But light flickers off and on, and every time she looks closer to him than she should be, and it all sure looks very real.

The woman stops in front of him. Her tears stop too, and she slowly reveals her face, along with her blood stained cheeks. Her eyes are a pool of darkness.

Between one blink and another, Colonnello has her hand around his throat.

“Did you see my baby?” she chokes out, whispering. “What did they do to my baby?” She creeps closer, breathes in his air, and the strong scent of blood turns his stomach. “Did you hurt my baby?” She tightens her grip, her nails digging in his skin. “Where’s my baby? Where’s my baby?”

Colonnello doesn’t touch her because you’re not supposed to be able to touch a hallucination.

He did bring a gun and a knife with him, but he’s not about to kill the pope either.

He shakes his head.

The woman pauses, then slowly steps back, her hand slipping from his throat. Blood falls from her eyes, and she hides her face back into her hands.

She disappears in Lizard Man’s room, sobbing about her baby.

Colonnello takes a deep breath, releases it. Pregnant Pope? Check.

Moving on.

Colonnello walks past Lal’s door to the last one on this side of the hallway. A knife bursts through the door, almost cuts off his nose.

A hand bursts through next, grabs him by his collar, and slams him against the door.

The hand holds him there, his head pressed against the wood, and craves the contour of his head with the knife at the rhythm of Colonnello’s heart beating in his ears.

The hand pulls at the collar and the wood gives out, his head going through the hole. He pushes against the door to try to get out, but holy shit the guy is strong.

He doesn’t bulge an inch.

Colonnello peers up at the bloody hockey mask, with two holes for the eyes. The pupils are blown wide and flick wildly, heavy muffled breathing breaking the silence.

He smiles. “Is this not the bathroom? Oh my.”

The man tilts his head. He stabs the door again.

Colonnello’s breath catches in his throat. He needs a second to fall on his knees when the man lets him go, shell-shocked.

He brings shaky hands to his stomach, swallows thickly. He’s not hurt.

Colonnello crawls back to the other side of the hallway, hits his back against the wall. He doesn’t dare tear his eyes off of the hole’s in the door, not yet.

Oh god, oh fuck, he badly miscalculated this. He heard things? What a joke, these are nothing compare to this.

What the fuck do you need a pope for if she’s just going to let these guys loose in here?

No, he needs to calm down. He’s a soldier, and a man in love, and he has a mission to accomplish.

This is fine, this is nothing, people try to kill him all the time, it comes with the job. He just needs to focus.

Hockey Knife Man? Check.

Colonnello crawls to the closet door, peeks through the lock. There’s a man sat at his desk, a white lab coat on and spiky blue hair sticking out in every direction.

He’s talking to himself, sounds crazed and manic even if Colonnello can’t make out the words, working at something on his desk.

He rises it in the air to inspect it, a little ball of some sort held between his thumb and index finger.

The man spreads his eyelids wide with his other hand, and sinks his eye back in.

Colonnello winces. He looks long enough to see him twist his arms all the around and rip it off from his shoulder, before drawing back from the lock.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. He draws the line at body modification.

Frankenstein Man? Check.

Colonnello crawls to the next door, and peeks in again. A red eye looks right back at him, and he jumps away from the door, barely catching his whimper by biting his tongue.

He curls his hand over his chest, beating so so fast, he directs his Rain flames over it lest he has a heart attack.

The door creaks open, a cloaked figure appearing in the door gap. The coat looks fur like, five longs lines spreading over it from top to bottom, like bones.

A thin skin-like membrane runs between them, and the fur coat like actually looks a lot like wings.

The being slurps, bristles like on the brink of attacking.

Colonnello kicks the door shuts on them.

Bat Weird Thingy? Check.

But more importantly, what the fuck?

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?

No, fuck that actually, it doesn’t matter. Fuck this entire shit, Colonnello is out of here.

He makes for the stairs, because fuck Lal’s window too. He just needs to get out of this crazy house as quickly as possible.

Colonnello almost makes it down the stairs, almost. He wonders why god hates him so much, and puts on his big boy pants to hold on his sanity.

“Jeez, not again,” a voice says, a normal sounding voice, a human sounding voice, and he crosses his fingers.

A head rolls past the corner, stops at the foot of the stairs. Blood oozes from the neck, and it got all over on it.

The head shifts his way, catches on his sight. Purples eye blink at him.

Colonnello blinks back.

A grin spreads the head’s lips. “Oh, you good sir have quite the nice head.” He runs his tongue over his jagged, sharp teeth, eyes wide with excitation. “Perhaps it’d look better on me, what do you say?”

Colonnello has a vice-like grip on the railing. The wood cracks when the body makes his appearance too, headless of course.

It sure looks like it can see him anyway.

“What do you say, good sir?” the head purrs again, now propped on his neck, in its own pool of blood.

Colonnello laughs. “Now good sir, not on the first night. If you’ll excuse me, I need to powder my nose.”

Colonnello turns tail and runs. Fuck the front door, Lal’s window will do just fine.

He bursts in her room, goes straight for the window. It’s closed.

Colonnello tries to open it anyway, again and again, desperate and a bit hysterical maybe.

He just needs to get black out drunk right this instant, can’t the universe just work with him here?

“Leaving already?”

Colonnello actually breathes out of relief. He turns around.

“Lal, listen—”

Lal tilts her head, he thinks. The swirling mass black of something certainly shifts.

Colonnello sees scales, peeling off at places like she’s decaying, and black horns on each side of what could be the head.

There're wings too, maybe, spreading from her back to the floor and leaving a trail in her back, like the most ominous of a bride’s trail.

Lal slides closer, and Colonnello grows impossibly hot as she does. Smoke comes out of her mouth when she opens it, a red tint at the back of her throat.

“Yes?”

“Is this not the bathroom?” Colonnello says casually, as he smashes the window with his elbow. “Oh my.”

He jumps out of the window, rolls on the floor as he lands, and runs like his life depends on it without looking back.

Which it does.

Not only Colonnello needs to get black out drunk as soon as he can, but he also needs to try the hardest drug he can find for the first time in his life.

Yeah, that sounds like a plan.

*

All the credit for the costumes goes to @chierry​! Thanks again, I hope I did them justice lol.

Reborn is disguised as Leon and Leon as him. Luce is the pope, Fon is Jason the Thirteenth, Verde is Rick Sanchez, Viper a vampire, Skull a dullahan, and Lal a demon.