** Disclaimer: Digimon isn't mine, but one day ... one day ... Jyou will be. Or at least someone who looks like Jyou. Also, this story has nothing to do with the World of Darkness, which in itself was built upon cultural myths of supernatural creatures. And, finally, for those of you that need the warning, there's Yaoi and violence in this tale. Don't like it, don't read it. So neener. My first go at "Yamajyou." I'm not a huge fan of the two of them together, but I think the pairing is rather ... aesthetically pleasing, so to speak. They look beautiful together. Aah, the fantasies of a lovesick fanfic writer... o.o **
sanguine addiction
those silver bullets
a last blood benediction
wolf moon
come cast your spell on me
Odaiba's news has been particularly disturbing lately. All across the city, people are reporting incidents of dog attacks, stray canines on the loose killing family pets and chasing down solitary streetwalkers in the night. There has even been one report of a baby killed in such an attack. Some of the more far-fetched news stories mention monsters, creatures of half-wolf, half-man, roaming the city. But of course, we all know that monsters don't exist, right? It's mostly the tabloids making such a big deal about monsters.
Out of the eight of us, Jyou and I are the most concerned. We think -- perhaps -- it's a return of an evil from the Digital World that wants to cause trouble on earth. The others don't seem to care -- they've gotten on with their lives in the six years since we've been to the Digital World.
"Loup-Garou," is what Koushiro tells us, his dark eyes poring over the screen to his laptop. His fingers fly at an impossible rate of speed over the keys.
"Hunh?" I murmur as I peer over the smaller guy's shoulder. My brows knit together tightly when I see the reproduction of an English woodcarving -- portraying a large wolf-like creature, a baby in its mouth -- on the computer's screen.
"Werewolf," Koushiro explains immediately. "Nearly every culture throughout the world has some sort of shapeshifter mythos. The French called it Loup-Garou. The Native Americans had their Wendigo. Even we Japanese have the myth of the enigmatic kitsune."
Jyou clears his throat softly from where he sits on the other side of Koushiro's room. "So, you're saying the attacks in Odaiba are the result of a werewolf?" His voice is dubious, yet also filled with caution.
Koushiro shrugs and types a few more commands into his computer, pulling up a fuller search on the topic. As he types, he speaks, "Of course I'm not suggesting anything of the sort. I'm just saying, I can see why some people might overreact and panic. Imaginary monsters are always convenient tools for people who don't want to face the truth of reality."
I roll my eyes, and allow Koushiro to continue his search on werewolves. Jyou, as well, holds his tongue. Oddly enough, Koushiro is the one who shut out his memories of the Digital World first. Both Jyou and I know full well the extent of the younger boy's own coping mechanisms -- to him, everything has become the latest conspiracy theory.
"So why even bring it up?" I ask, finding myself too annoyed too quickly. I've never had an easy time controlling my temper, as much as I like to consider myself the "cool one" of the group.
Koushiro turns in his chair and regards me with infuriatingly lidded eyes. "You're the one that mentioned the idea of monsters. I'm just offering a more logical theory. These attacks mirror the legends of shapeshifter myths, which I'm certain have an explanation of their own." He spins his seat around so he can face the computer again, his shoulders shaking with derisive laughter. "Digital Monsters. From the Internet. That'll be the day."
Again, Jyou and I exchange glances, and he only shakes his head and sighs. How soon the younger, red-headed boy has forgotten his past.
**
It's late when we finally take our leave of Koushiro's flat, neither of us any wiser for the visit. The moon shines down upon us like a silvery disk, and Jyou walks with his hands in his pants pockets. I long to reach out and touch those soft, nimble fingers, but I restrain myself while we're out in public. There will be time enough later on for affection.
"What do you think?" he asks.
I offer a light, casual shrug of my shoulders. "Perhaps Koushiro is right. Maybe they are just random animal attacks. Nothing to get excited over."
Jyou nods and straightens his glasses as we turn down the street corner leading to our flat. The neighborhood isn't the best, but it's all the two of us -- one starving college student and one starving musician -- can afford. For the most part, we ignore the loud music and the angry tenants around us constantly fighting. It's all we can do.
A soft gasp rises in his throat, and he throws out an arm to stop me in my tracks. I look at him questioningly, and he points to a spot several feet in front of us.
Standing in the center of the sidewalk is a large, grey-furred canine. The creature has to be about twice as large as any dog I've ever seen. The dark, matted fur on its back stands on end, and it bares its long yellowed teeth in a snarl.
"Back away slowly, Jyou," I whisper, squaring my body protectively before his. He's never had much experience with canines, like I have.
I intend to stare the creature down.
Jyou concedes to my request, and he takes several steps away before whispering in return, "Come on, Yamato."
The large dog lets out a low, moaning growl from deep within its barrel-shaped chest. Before I know it, the creature lunges at me, barking in sharp tones that sting my ears. Vaguely, I hear Jyou calling my name behind me as the canine knocks me over with all its weight and it sinks its teeth into my arm.
It takes all my strength to keep the thing's jaws from my throat, but even with the injured arm, I manage to keep it at bay. I can smell its stinking breath, like rotted meat, as its face looms within inches of mine. I take a gamble and wrap my arms around its chest, throwing the two of us into a roll.
I pin the animal on its back, knowing full well that canines respect a hierarchy of dominance. Looking straight into its ice blue eyes, I snarl, "Who's the alpha-dog now?"
The large dog's eyes dilate in a way that's almost akin to human recognition. With a faint whimper, it wriggles out from beneath my arms, tucks its tail between its legs, and it takes off into the night.
Behind me, the loud clang of metal against the pavement startles me from my thoughts. Jyou has dropped the bent piece of metal, likely the remnants of an old street sign, he's picked up during the attack. His eyes are wide with fear, but he's relieved that the dog is gone.
I brush a few stray bits of hair from my eyes with my good hand and laugh. "That showed him," I say.
Jyou gives me a shaky smile, and the two of us walk the remaining half a block to our flat, fourteen stories above the night-darkened streets of Odaiba.
**
Jyou babies me that evening, and I'm too tired to fight it. It sometimes annoys me how much he worries, but deep down I'm flattered. I think it's sweet. It's the first time in my life anyone's ever fretted over me.
He gently takes my shirt off, leaving me bare-chested, and washes the array of gash-marks in my arm left behind by the dog's teeth. "Well, I don't think it's going to require stitches," he murmurs, paling at the dried blood sticking to my skin. "You might want to get a tetanus shot at some point tomorrow, though."
I laugh off his words, shaking my head. "It's no big deal. I've been hurt worse. When dealing with angry dogs, Jyou, you've got to teach them who's boss. You've got to be the alpha wolf."
He ignores my comments, instead replying, "Still, just to be on the safe side..." He trails off, producing the bottle of antiseptic from the medicine cabinet and kneeling before me once again.
I roll my eyes, but chuckle once again. "Okay, okay. If it'll keep you from worrying, I'll see the doctor after band practice tomorrow." I wince as he applies the antiseptic with a cotton ball. "Ow! That stings!"
Jyou offers me a smirk. He's gotten impish in recent years, more mischievous than he used to be. That look alone is enough to turn me on. "I'll have to make it up to you later on, then."
He wraps my arm in some gauze once the stinging dies down, and he brings his soft lips to the surrounding skin on my arm. Slowly, he works his way up, his lips caressing my arm, my chest, my neck, before finally meeting my lips in a breathless kiss.
It's the beginning of a long, exhilarating night for the two of us...
**
Jyou wakes up coughing violently. He's since outgrown his childhood allergies which plagued him for so long, but he hasn't completely outgrown the asthma, and once every so often it acts up. Righting himself in a swift motion, he jostles me from my blissful haze of dreams, fighting to catch his breath again. As usual, all I can do for him is sit up and gently rub his back until the spasms pass. And as always, the seconds that tick by seem like an eternity to me. Finally, he manages to calm himself, although he looks confused -- if apologetic -- about what might have brought on the fit of coughing.
We decide it's probably the stress of tonight's attack. Jyou seems unconvinced, but he accepts the theory nonetheless. I give him a soft kiss on the cheek to reassure him, and he smiles at me and shifts his weight to lie down once more.
When he slides his bare back out from under my hand, I see several stray hairs left behind, like that of a dog. I frown in contemplation as I realize those hairs come from the palm of my own hand.
**
I walk to band practice the next day, despite the throbbing in my left arm. I've lived through worse than a few scratches given to me by a mongrel, and I'm not about to let it stop me from creating the music I so love. Although he's joined me at practice several times before, today Jyou stays at home in order to get some work done on a thesis he's writing for his political science class at Tokyo University.
Masayuki, our band's bassist, smirks at me as I sling my guitar strap over my shoulder and strum a few chords absently with my fingers.
"So, does Jyou like the talons, or are you going soft on us, Yamato?" he asks with a knowing wink.
"What do you mean?" I ask, immediately putting a halt to the chords and frowning at my friend defensively.
"The nails, Yamato," Masayuki explains, with emphasis. "Looks like you haven't cut them in weeks."
I look down at my fingernails. They've somehow grown half an inch past the tips of my fingers. It's only then that I realize I've been strumming my guitar with my nails, rather than using the usual plastic pick.
"Well, as long as it doesn't get in the way of the music, dude," says Masayuki idly as he strums out a complicated bassline, losing himself in the sound and leaving me absolutely bewildered.
**
Three or four weeks later, the world has forgotten about the Killer Odaiba Mongrel. Although we'd heard about the "aftermath" of it all, no further attacks or killings were reported after I'd encountered the animal. It was as if the thing just disappeared into the night after I'd proven myself the dominant.
That day at band practice, the top string to my guitar breaks, and it just sets me off. The thickest and most expensive string of all, I know I won't be able to buy a replacement for it any time soon. Not on a musician's salary. Adding to my ire is the announcement of a canceled gig of ours at the local coffeehouse. That, and Masayuki's new girlfriend, some annoying girl with a high-pitched voice and powder-blue hair, decides she wants us to play some of the songs she's written.
I skim over the page of lyrics, grumbling softly to myself. "Niki," I murmur, darting my eyes to the girl, whose hands are clasped over her heart in anticipation, "I don't think 'Fuzzy Bunnies of Love' is really our style." I try to put it diplomatically, but the girl just doesn't take the hint.
"What's the matter?" she moans, looking as if her world was about to crash down around her at any moment now. "How can you not like bunnies?"
"Because they're stupid," I spit out, suddenly angry. "It's not the direction the band is going in. We don't play ... crap like this!"
Masayuki frowns and strides forward to defend his wailing girlfriend. "You're being too harsh, I think, Yamato. Apologize to Niki."
I throw the strap of of my guitar from my shoulders. "Why should I? Masa, you know this isn't our style!"
"I don't see why it can't be," he retorts. "Why not try something new?"
I shake my head and gather up my belongings. The urge to strike Masayuki is overwhelming, and I know I have to leave before things get ugly. "If that's the way you feel, maybe you should find yourself a guitarist who will cater to your airheaded girlfriend's every whim!"
"Maybe I will, Yamato," Masayuki cries out as I stalk from the garage, leaving him, Niki, and the rest of my dumbstruck bandmates far behind. "Maybe I will!"
**
"You did what?" Jyou blurts out as we eat supper. He's not helping my foul mood, either, with his big-eyed surprise and his suffocating concern.
I keep the urge to growl out at him under control. "I told Masa where he could shove it if he wanted that dumb chick to take over our band."
"I think you overreacted," says Jyou, lowering his chopsticks as he finishes his rice. "I wouldn't want her taking over the band either, but I'm sure you and Masa could have worked something out."
"No, I don't think I could have," I return with a light sneer. "He's all over her. He'd never listen to his real friend."
Jyou simply nods and proceeds to clear the table. He's never seen me this angry before, not even when I used to fight with Taichi in the Digital World, and he doesn't want to provoke me further. He turns his back to me quietly as he wipes down the dishes with a rag.
Sickening.
As he sets one plate aside and picks up another, I stalk up behind him and grab him from behind, spinning him towards me. The plate slips from his hand and shatters into a million pieces on the floor. When he looks back to me, his cobalt blue eyes are filled with surprise.
"Yamato?" he asks, staring up into my angry face.
I lean down and catch his lips in a kiss that's altogether too rough. His teeth press hard against my lips, and although he's shaking, he returns the kiss, parting his lips to my probing tongue. I'm aroused, far too aroused by the fear that I can literally smell from him.
Jyou is the first to break the kiss, and he shoves me away with his hands. He can be stronger than he looks, sometimes, and as my body shifts back, he slides from my grasp. "What are you doing?" he gasps, running his arm across his lips to wipe away the excess saliva.
"I want you, Jyou," I whisper in return, staring at him with ravenous eyes.
He shakes his head and kneels down to pick up the pieces of the broken plate. "Oh, Yamato. Not like this."
Just then, the sudden anger, the unexplainable fierceness, runs from me like water. I lean heavily against the countertop for a few moments, dizzy and gathering my thoughts once again. "Jyou," I murmur. "I didn't mean it."
"You didn't," he says in return, barely audible above the light clinking of porcelain as he picks up the larger pieces of the shattered plate.
I lift my head once the vertigo has passed, and I kneel down beside him. He refuses to turn his eyes up to meet my gaze, so I gently touch his chin, tilting it up. "I'm sorry."
He meets my eyes, and I can see the remorse within them. "You just had a bad day, that's all," he says. "It's okay."
As I smile faintly to him, I begin to gather up some broken pieces of the plate from the floor. All the while, the only thing occupying my mind is the fear that's still present in Jyou's eyes. Fear of me, his own mate.
I don't know whether it disgusts me or turns me on that much more.
**
The nasty mood of mine only worsens by the next night. My little brother Takeru comes for a visit, and he hadn't told me earlier he'd be bringing a date. Hikari Yagami, Taichi's younger sister stops by as well, hanging on his arm.
I grumble at Jyou privately in the kitchen as the two of us prepare supper, "You know we're not going to have enough to eat," I say to him as I stir-fry the last of the vegetables in the pantry.
He shrugs once, still too cautious to keep on my good side. "Then I suppose the two of us will just have to eat a bit less."
"Takeru and Hikari aren't scrounging their pennies for food. They have parents who are more than willing to feed their round faces."
Jyou shakes his head. "Don't be like this, Yamato. Just have a good time while your brother is here. How often do you get to see him?"
"Once in a fucking blue moon," I mutter. "It was supposed to be just us tonight. Not us and his little sister."
Jyou turns and goes back to preparing supper, keeping silent over my sharp words against Taichi. Things haven't been the same between us since I admitted several years ago that I liked him, and he cringed away from me. That memory of the distate on the other boy's face causes the hair to stand up on the back of my neck, like fingers of an old ghost.
We serve what little extra food we can scrounge up at the last moment, and Takeru and Hikari dig in, oblivious to our arguing. We'd been bickering all day -- well, I'd been arguing with him, provoked to ire at the slightest infraction. Jyou avoids my gaze and tries to make small-talk with the two younger kids. I keep silent throughout the entire ordeal this night has become.
Finally, I've had enough. Without a word, I sneak out onto the balcony and withdraw a hidden pack of cigarettes from my pocket. I've given up smoking because of Jyou, but today I'm too peturbed to care. Sucks to your asthma, I think, reminded of a phrase from a British middle school novel as I light up.
Takeru sneaks away from the strained conversation with Jyou, and I immediately hear the whisper of the sliding glass door as it opens.
"Yamato?" he asks, shutting the door behind him. "You've been so quiet all evening. What's on your mind?" He leans against the railing next to me, positioning himself downwind of the smoke.
I shake my head. "Nothing. Everything." I let out a quiet sigh. "I've just been so ... angry lately. With everything. Even Jyou."
"Has everything been okay?" he asks. "No trouble in paradise, I hope?"
I take a long drag from the cig and exhale a cloud of grey-white smoke into the night's sky. "I can't explain why I've been so angry. There's no reason for it. I'm just being stubborn, that's all. Everything has to be my way."
Takeru laughs lightly and shakes his head. "You know, the last time I saw you this mad was when you and Taichi used to fight. Whatever it was you fought about, anyway."
Even Takeru has blocked out the memories of the Digital World and all we'd been through, including my many fights with Taichi for dominance over the pack Digidestined children. I look up for the first time that evening to the round, shining moon. Takeru's memories -- or lack thereof -- cause the anger within me to fester and to rise, like bile in one's stomach just before one vomits.
He has to bring up Taichi, doesn't he?
Clinging tightly to the railing, a sharp spasm of pain forces me to double over, and the meager supper I'd eaten comes up in a furious glut. Takeru immediately places a hand on my shoulder and calls for Jyou. Even with the irritating food purged from my system, the pain still lingers -- if anything it gets worse. Seeing red, I fall to my knees as my stomach and heart throb as if they're going to burst right from my chest.
"Oh, shit," my fourteen-year-old brother moans. "Yamato?"
I can feel the bones within me breaking, my skin stretching. My body feels like it will turn itself completely inside out. I scream, but the sounds coming from my chest aren't in my voice -- they are deep, canine barks. I'm afraid of what's happening to me, but I also feel stronger than I ever had in my life. As soon as the pain subsides, I rise to my feet, uncurl my once-huddled body to its full height, and lift a low howl to join with the fat moon of the night.
Takeru falls backward over a balcony chair, his eyes alight with fear. An acrid scent reaches my nostrils, and I immediately scent that he's wet himself. Within the apartment, I hear Hikari's shrill shriek, and it slices through me like a knife. They're terrified of me, even Jyou, and the thought of that sends thrilling shivers down my spine.
I turn towards the inside of the apartment, and I spot a glimpse of myself in the glass door's reflection. No longer can I see the sullen blond-haired boy I'd once been -- instead, I see a dim outline of a large, hulking, creature, a perfect meld of wolf and man.
Loup-Garou.
I know I should be horrified, myself, at what I have become, but the anger within me has grown so terrible, that even Takeru's beating heart -- I can hear its incessant thrum in my perked ears -- infuriates me.
I have to make the beating stop.
With one swipe, I knock the balcony chairs clear over the railing, where they shatter to the street below amidst a flurry of startled pedestrians. Takeru scrambles as far back as he can to the railing, his back pressing hard against it. My teeth bare in a snarl, and I know that with one bite, I can end the boy's life and send it flooding onto the street below in a rain of crimson.
As Takeru cringes away from me, fearful tears streaking his cheeks, I hear a voice behind me, calling out, "Yamato, don't hurt him!"
Jyou. My one and only. And also the one thing standing between my teeth and Takeru's throat. I spin around as Jyou tackles my massive form. His slender shoulders are no match for my sharp claws, and they immediately sink within the soft hollows. Nonetheless, the force of his weight causes me to stumble.
He holds on despite the pain and the immediate flush of blood around my claws. The coppery scent entices me, and I have an undeniable urge to lick it from the wounds in his shoulders. Struggling to free myself from his weak grasp, I lean forward and sink my teeth into his shoulder. He shrieks in pain, but doesn't let go.
I roll my body over, forcing my massive weight onto him. However, his fingers grab onto my throat and press hard against my windpipe. His glasses, one lens shattered in a design of spiderweb, dangle precariously from his chalk-grey face and he wheezes with fright. I don't even notice when Takeru rushes inside and into Hikari's arms.
Squirming, I try to force my head away from his grip, but he holds on with a surprising ferocity, despite the blood, despite his injuries, despite the fact that he can't breathe...
I can't breathe either, although I can't tell if it's because of Jyou's hands cutting off the flow of air through my windpipe, or his scared yet determined eyes, pleading with me to release my anger and return to normal once again.
As the world spins around me, the pain overtakes me again. Once more, the bones inside my body break and dislocate with sickening pops, and my body shrinks back inside itself. It's a disgusting sensation. Jyou's fingers eventually let up from my throat, and I draw a breath and cry out in a voice that's all too human in tone.
I nearly killed my brother, I suddenly think.
I stare down at Jyou, my fury now turned to sadness, absolute remorse. He lets out a shaky, breathless laugh and mouths the words, I love you.
I collapse into the arms of my dominant lover and allow myself to be overtaken by the dreamless sleep of oblivion.
**
It is four weeks later, and in another day, the moon will once more shine full in the sky. Already, I can feel the ire within me growing steadily. Koushiro jokes around that it's "Yamato's time of the month," and it pisses me off.
But it's not just the fury that festers within me this month. There's also a good deal of fear. Will I lose control again? Maybe lash out at my brother a second time? Or an innocent on the street? What will I do if the beast returns to the surface?
I sigh and light up a cigarette, standing out on the very balcony where I'd nearly taken Takeru's life. Behind me, I hear Jyou's voice, uncharacteristically angry, "What the hell do you think you're doing? I thought you gave up smoking."
When I turn, I see the blaze within his cobalt eyes, the fire of the beast inches from the surface.