darling

[nightburst]

TITLE: darling
FANDOM: The Vampire Dies in No Time
CHARACTERS: Handa Tou, Ronaldo, Draluc, OCs, others
WARNINGS: Psychological horror, body horror, death.
WORD COUNT: 2,700
CHAPTERS: 1/1
SUMMARY: Handa faces down a vampire that resembles his mother.

Emergency meeting.



A vampire as dangerous as Tsujigiri Nagiri, the Captain says.



That description doesn’t suit this woman, with her gentle smile and tender eyes.

 

Handa slams his hands on the table they are gathered around. His throat is dry and the words he tries to voice come out haltingly.

You’re—wrong, he hears himself say. You… have it all wrong.

 

He crumples the papers beneath his hands.

 

You know you’re wrong!

 

Someone tries to cut in. He doesn’t give them the chance.



That’s my mother! Handa Akemi! She wouldn’t hurt anyone! I know she wouldn’t!

 

He rounds on them all, eyes wild.

 

YOU know she wouldn’t! What the hell is this!?



His tone rises in pitch and desperation.



My mother is—she’s—god damn it, she would never, you know that, you KNOW—

 

And Handa, they say with tinny voices, someone’s hand planting itself on his shoulder, we know. We know it’s not her.

 

Black spots gather at the edges of his vision. His chest heaves with the effort of drawing a full breath.

 

“We know,” someone—the Captain—says, “This isn’t a picture of your mother, Handa.”

 

But a vampire that looks uncannily like her.

 

If Handa looks more closely he can see.



Her hair is a little bit wrong. Her face is a little bit off.

 

No. This is not his mother.



They are pursuing someone else.

 

A vampire without: a name, and with: a body count and why does she look like Akemi?

 

No one knows. Coincidence, perhaps. Distant relative, at worst.

 

“Where is my mother,” Handa asks, or demands, he isn’t sure. “Is she alright?”

 

Has this picture been released to the public?



If it has—

 

Handa very nearly bolts from the room. His mother is not safe.

 

His mother is alright, the Captain tells him, and apparently it’s his hand on Handa’s shoulder, keeping him there. Handa’s father is with her, and the VCD will be keeping an eye on their residence. Just in case.

 

Just in case. In case of what? Say it. In case someone wants to kill her?

 

Breathe, they tell him. Like he’s not fucking breathing.

 

Their voices mix with the dull roar in his head and are largely incomprehensible.

You’re breathing too fast, he makes out, and he might have spoken aloud. Handa, you need to calm down.

 

Shut up, he snaps. I’m fine.

He doesn't think he's fully in his body and everyone’s strangely far away.

Handa stares at the photo. It stares back.

Why does this woman look like his mother? Are they trying to get her into trouble? Who would have anything against her?

 

Is she going to be okay? Will the officers dispatched to his house be willing to die for her?



They had better be ready to.



If someone gets to her—

No, don’t think about that. Don’t, don’t, don’t, he tells himself, but the more he tries not to think about it, the more vivid the terrifying images in his brain grow.

 

If someone hurts his mother he’ll kill them.

 

He won’t think twice. He’ll kill them.

 

If someone hurts his mother because he couldn’t protect her he’ll kill himself too.

 

“...should sit this one out,” someone is saying.

“No,” Handa says.

He can’t sit this out. He has to keep Akemi safe. Don’t they dare try and make him, he’ll fight them.

 

The others look to the Captain and the Captain has this miserable expression on his face like he understands, like he’s got people he’d kill to save, too. That furthermore, he understands the need to settle a matter like this with one’s own two hands; to make sure it’s done right, else you’ll never sleep well again another night in your life.

 

The Captain doesn’t make him sit this out.

 

But Handa really needs to listen right now, alright? Because this vampire is as dangerous as Tsujigiri Nagiri, if not more so, and here is what she can do.

 

She is a woman with a gentle smile and tender eyes like his mother, and she is a monster.

 

The briefing is coming to a close as they get a call that she’s been spotted again in Shin-Yoko.

 

The hunt must begin.

 

Handa is almost out the door, ignoring the way everyone’s eyes are on him, the anxiety in their stares and his heart, when he hears the Captain say to him, “Take care.”

 

He’s an only child, he wouldn’t know, but that sounds like an older brother’s words.

 

---

 

It’s winter. The air is unforgivingly cold. He pops a blood tablet.



It’s a shock to the system, invigorating him. His strength and senses amplify. His vampire heritage, his mother’s blood allows him access to this power.

 

He will use it to protect her, and this city.

 

As the others disperse, he follows the scent of blood in the air.

 

It’s different from the blood tablets.

 

This blood is wrong, spilled by force.

 

The city’s air chokes with this foul blood.

 

There is no time to waste.

 

---

A casualty is reported by a frantic voice over the comms.

 

A gentle voice murmurs incomprehensibly.

 

There is screaming, begging, and a crunch.

There are two casualties.

 

A woman hums a familiar lullaby, and Handa can’t breathe.

 

The song is almost right.

 

The voice is almost hers.

 

---

 

The bodies are on the riverbank.

 

Their necks have been crushed like grapes.

 

(Two VCD officers. He’d spoken with them before.)

 

He’s never seen dead bodies out on the job before.

 

Victims.

 

Murder victims.

 

Shin-Yokohama is chaotic, but there is a peace and familiarity to its chaos.

 

Tsujigiri Nagiri was the most dangerous thing to have happened to it in ages, and even he has not managed to kill anyone.

 

But here, in front of Handa’s own eyes, are two corpses (murder victims, colleagues), one of whom whose last words he overheard. Their eyes are wide open, and they have been left here as though discarded like trash.


(They were new recruits, fresh out of training.)

 

Part of him wants to tell them to stop playing around and get up.

 

Yes, he sees the blood. The mangling.

It doesn’t look real.

 

Special effects. CGI. That kind of thing.

 

That’s what it looks like.

 

In this way, his mind tries to protect him. It cannot succeed in this. Reality comes knocking and he must answer.

 

(They were so eager.)

 

The stench of this blood is nauseating.

 

(They were so full of life.)

 

The cold is burning his skin.



(I’m so happy to be working under you, sir!)

 

Handa clamps a hand over his mouth so he doesn’t vomit.

 

He wants to close their eyes. Do that much for them, at least.

 

He doesn’t think there’s time.

He has to go.

 

(Leave them there.)

 

Bring their murderer into custody.

 

(Abandon them here.)

 

A woman that looks and sounds like his mother.


(Why?)

 

---

 

A soothing scent wafts through the reek of slaughter.

 

It smells like perfume, fond memories, and home.

 

It burns his eyes and nose, as though bitter.

 

It leads him to her.

---

She is standing in the middle of the street, humming the lullaby. There is blood smeared all over her face and staining her clothes. She is smiling serenely.

 

In motion, in the flesh, she resembles his mother even more.

 

The image of Handa Akemi warped so faintly you might not even notice the difference.



An uncanny counterfeit that he trembles before.

 

“I’m taking you in,” he tells her. “You’re going to tell me why you’re impersonating my mother, and then you’re getting the punishment you deserve.”

 

She does not act as if she hears him. She approaches him, slowly, one foot in front of the other.

“Hello, darling,” she says, in a voice that is warm and kind and chills the blood in his veins.

 

“Who are you?” he demands. “How do you know that lullaby?”

 

It’s always a few notes off, but the melody it tries to mimic is unmistakable.

 

“Hello, darling,” she says again.

 

“How the hell do you know it?! What do you want?!”

 

“Hello, darling.”

 

“What did you kill those people for?! Do you even understand what you’ve done?!”

 

“Hello, darling.”

 

“Do you have something against my mother?! Are you trying to frame her for your murders?!”



”Hello, darling.”

 

“That’s not an answer!”

 

“Hello, darling.”

 

With each word spoken, she draws steadily closer.

 

His hand trembles in paralysis above the sheath of his sword. Every instinct to defend himself is opposed in equal force to the possibility of harming this woman.



The blood that marks her as a killer contrasts so violently with her motherly aura.

 

She opens her arms, beckoning him.

 

“Hello, darling.”

 

“Stop sounding like my mom!”

 

“Hello, darling.”



Static buzzes in Handa’s ears. The shadows shift and churn as though confronted with flickering lantern light.

 

Impostor. Murderer. Two people are dead because of this thing that wears his mother’s shape.

 

They had futures. Families. Dinner plans. Vacations they were looking forward to. Packages they were waiting to receive in the mail. Books and games on their backlogs. Half-written drafts they didn’t get to send. I-love-yous they thought could wait one day more.

 

They may have thought their senpai would have their back.

 

In their last moments, Handa Akemi may have been what they saw.



”Hello, darling.”

 

Impostor. Fake. Not Akemi. Not mom.

 

He must subdue her.

 

For the sake of the dead and the living alike.



His mother must be cleared of suspicion absolutely. If he cannot even accomplish that, then he is a failure as both an officer and a son.

 

His hand which trembles so terribly meets the hilt of his sword.

 

(He still doesn’t understand how she knows the lullaby.

 

Akemi came up with it herself.

 

She sung it to him and him alone.)

 

“Hello, darling.”

 

She is still smiling warmly with arms open and inviting as her neck stretches and contorts and her jaw unhinges like a snake’s.

 

Her massive gaping maw rushes at Handa’s face.

It is a horror that mesmerizes him, this near perfect replica of his mother’s face warping into a monstrous visage.

He nearly doesn’t dodge in time.

“Hello, darling.”

 

Not one thing about her voice has changed.

 

Handa draws his sword with a cold and clammy hand. The freezing air makes his lungs hurt.

 

Her neck coils and lunges.

 

He’s more prepared this time, but she is fast. Her teeth snap together where his neck was only seconds ago.

 

“Hello, darling.”



Her serenity does not falter.



He doesn’t understand what kind of vampire she is.

 

He doesn’t get one fucking thing about any of this.

 

Her teeth snap shy of his neck once more.

 

“Hello, darling.”




Momo, darling! His mother had said the day he graduated high school. I’m so proud of you! I’m going to take so many pictures!

 

I’m so moved! You’re such a darling, she’d said when she saw how all-out he went for Mother’s Day the year before. He always tries to top himself each year.

 

Oh, darling, it’s nothing to be afraid of, she said when he was seven and a scary movie had him clinging to her in the kitchen. It’s okay, Momo. Mama’s here.

Hello, darling! She’d said this morning. Be safe at work!



”You are making a mockery of my MOTHER!” he roars.



One clean slice. It’s all he needs. Enough to injure without killing.

 

Vampires are to be taken alive if it can be done.

 

That’s how Vamp Control does things, and what happens after is beyond Handa’s jurisdiction.

 

He sizes her up, reads her next move, and goes for it. He can't miss.

 

“Hello, darling.”








His blade plunges into her chest, straight through her heart.

 

Her neck snaps back to her body. Her face snaps back to normal.

Her eyes are wide and they bore into his as she murmurs, “Momo.”

 

She collapses into ash.

 

Staring all the while.

 

Handa’s blade slips from his hand.

He drops to his knees.

He curls up in on himself and he screams.

 

---

 

Hiyoshi had contacted him on short notice, citing both an emergency and delicate circumstances.

 

Ronaldo had geared up at once, insisting that John stay home. He’d told Draluc he ought to stay too, but Draluc had been uncharacteristically troubled by this case, and said that he’d follow whether Ronaldo liked it or not.

 

Ronaldo chose not to argue with him.

 

Now his heart pounds in his chest as he, flanked by Draluc, follows the sound of a worryingly familiar scream.

 

(“I know Handa won’t stay put no matter what I tell him,” Hiyoshi had said, “so I let him go. But I’m not without my reservations.”)



The screaming goes on for too long, for all that it serves as a guide. When it stops, a spike of fear shoots through his chest.

 

(All the while, Draluc’s brow is furrowed, as though he is deep in thought.)



”—Over there, Ronaldo-kun!”

 

There is Handa in the middle of the street, on his knees.

 

“HANDA!”

 

Alive. The idiot’s alive. Thank god for that. They run to him. Ronaldo calls to him again, but Handa does not answer.

 

Handa is talking to himself before a pile of ash, repeating a desperate mantra.

 

“That’s not mom. That’s not mom. That’s not mom. That’s not mom.”

 

Ronaldo’s heart drops.

 

This is bad.

 

This has gone as badly as it could have short of Handa’s own death.

 

“Handa?” Ronaldo tries. He hovers uncertainly before crouching beside him.

 

Draluc is staring at something in the distance with narrowed eyes.

 

“...not mom, that’s not mom, that’s not mom, that’s not mom…”

 

“Handa…? You’re right, that’s not your mom.”



But Handa doesn’t seem to hear him.



Ronaldo takes a deep breath, braces himself for an attack response, and plants his hand on Handa’s shoulder.

 

“Handa. Your mom is fine. Swear to God.”

 

Handa’s terrified prayer stops. He lifts his head and looks at Ronaldo as though he is a phantom or a stranger.

 

“Akemi’s okay. She’s just fine,” Ronaldo says, and tries not to wince; Handa’s bitten through his own lip.

 

“Ronaldo,” Handa says in a voice devoid of anything.



”It… uh, looks like you’ve taken care of... everything,” Ronaldo says. He mentally berates himself for his own tactlessness, considering.

 

But Handa doesn’t chastise him. He doesn’t say anything, actually.

 

“So,” Ronaldo tries again, “the threat’s gone. Akemi’s safe and she’ll stay safe, thanks to you.”

 

“I want…” Handa’s tongue feels leaden, “…to see her.”



”I know. We’ve just gotta let the VCD know about, y’know, this. They’ll take care of the rest, and you can go see her.”

 

“Mom…”

 

Given that Handa is in no state to do it himself, Ronaldo’s the one that calls and explains what’s happened to his brother.

 

“I need to get him out of here,” Ronaldo says. “It’s fine if Draluc sticks around until someone else shows up to handle the scene, right?”



”That should be fine,” Hiyoshi says. “At least, I’ll allow it.”

 

Ronaldo thanks him profusely and hangs up.

 

“It’s all on you, Lord Dral. Don’t go dying or anything.”

 

“I’m serious-mode Draluc, so I won’t.”

 

“...Tell me later what the hell you’ve been looking at.”

 

Draluc nods, and Ronaldo returns his attention to Handa, transfixed by the ash pile.

 

“Let’s get out of here, alright?”

 

Handa doesn’t protest as Ronaldo slings an arm over his shoulder and hoists him to his feet.



Ronaldo wishes he would.

 

---

 

When Handa makes it home, he embraces his mother and bawls into her shoulder.

She holds him close and strokes his hair.

 

“It’s all right now, honey. I’m here. I’m here, Momo. My darling Momo.”

 

He clutches tighter, shoulders shaking violently with the force of his sobs.

---

Draluc understands the nature of the beast.

 

Down the road, the shadows ebb and flow. Their whispers layer one on top of another, mixing into a wall of noise.

 

They hiss and recoil at Draluc’s approach. They draw back, further and further.

On the vague boundary line between this world and another, Draluc looms tall and imposing.

 

The writhing phantom hands took hold and sunk their claws in deep this time.

 

Draluc politely suggests they re-evaluate their choice of prey.

 

His figure eclipses the shadows below.

 

He bares his fangs.