𝓕ᵃᵗʰᵉʳ'ˢ 𝓟ᵉʳᶠᵉᶜᵗ 𝓛ⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ 𝓖ⁱʳˡ

II | III

★・・・★

CHAPTER — III
part two

YOUR STEPS are quick and hurried. You know you're not acting rationally, and it surprises you coming from yourself but you've got not other choices. You're desperate.

It's still early in the morning, and you left your house without notice. You don't exactly feel bad about it—as of now, you're acting impulsively, mostly fueled by your anger and frustration. You clutch tightly on the bag on your shoulder, briefly mentally checking if you've taken everything you need. You let out an unsteady breath as you pick up your pace, the sooner you get there, the better, you think.

The conversation with your dad—didn't exactly go as you thought it would. It left you even more confused and with a newfound feeling of betrayal nestled in your chest. Tears are still prickling your eyes.

You force yourself to think about something else and instead focus on what's around you. The village is still silent and calm this early in the day, all you can hear are your quick breaths, ushered steps and the soft rustling of the trees in the light morning breeze.

You feel your phone buzzing in your bag but you don't bother to look at who's calling you—it is obviously your father, but you're too upset and you feel too disappointed to pick up. You grip on the rosary on your chest to pry the tears threatening to spill from your eyes away.

You're already out of breath and all you've done is speed-walking. You finally find the place you were searching for. A few days ago, while you were exploring Ushinawareta you passed by the police station. You didn't think you'd need to ever purposely go there.

Right in front of the building, you see a man in a blue uniform. He's leaning on the wall, cigarette in hand. He is tall. You can't see him well from where you are but you clearly see that he's got long black hair attached in a low ponytail at the back of his head. His uniform molds his shoulders as well as his arms a little too well and although his pants aren't as tight-fitting, they still give you a nice idea of how sculpted his thighs must be. He looks strong, ridged with muscle, as much as Satoru. You had not expected you would find a young and healthy-looking man like him, you thought there would only be a middle-aged men—with rather big bellies—that would probably snicker at the sight of a little girl complaining about vampires out of everything. However with him, you feel like you've got a chance. Maybe

You hesitate to bother him, he looks like he is on his break. However, the situation is too critical for you to be wasting any time. You can do it, you tell yourself, you've got everything you need.

His dark eyes are already on you. You tense up, but he gives you a delicate smile that has your shoulders slumping back.

You notice the gun on his black belt before your eyes slide on his face. Oh—what a handsome face. A sharp nose, a sculpted jawline. His eyes are captivating and sharp. You immediately look down—you're not good with dealing with attractive people.

The stranger places a polite grin on his lips, his eyes crinkling, "Miss," naturally, his voice has to be ridiculously low as well, "Is there anything I can help you with ?"

You suddenly remember why exactly you're here.

He takes a tentative step towards you. The gun lodged on the belt on his hips, swinging as he walks. He's massive, not as massive as Father Fushiguro, but big enough so that you feel small and insignificant when he finally stops in front of you.

This is your last chance.

You need help because you're too weak on your own.

"I-I need help." You stutter out, glancing around to check if you see any familiar faces. You grip your bag tighter.