There are certain known facts about vampires. They revile change. They are obsessive-compulsive. They are illogical. They are cursed. They will burst into flames in sunlight.
They are dying.
With less than a hundred vampires left in the world, Yas...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
For the first time in close to three centuries, Yasuko felt herself. Not Yasuko the Vampire, or Yasuko the Glutton, or even Yasuko the Oiran. She felt like the person she'd been before the vampires, before the worst of the Yoshiwara's drama, before she'd discovered just how deep her feelings for Sakura—the kamuro, not the sister—ran. That version of herself had been much, much different than the present. Angry, jealous, vicious.
Lonely.
Her mother had been a prostitute herself. Not so lofty as an oiran, not even a courtesan. She'd made her trade on the sides of roads, appealing to wandering men and their scraps of coin. Though it was well-known that a girl would have a much better life as a kamuro than starving on the streets, Yasuko suspected that her mother had sold her for solely for the money, not for thought of kindness. She still remembered her mother's back, bowed by exhaustion and shame, retreating into the crowd, purse in hand.
Calling it a betrayal afforded her mother too much credit, but listening to Breeze...Yasuko had felt like she was Akii again, a thing to be traded.
She hadn't cried after her first client, but she had felt a part of herself—the little girl—shrivel and die. Her mother had known, and yet she'd traded her. Not for her daughter's sake, but for her own.
Yasuko scrubbed at her mouth, trying to eliminate the bitter taste. It wasn't betrayal. Breeze was not her Circle and had no obligations to her. Except...it was. Even if she couldn't diffuse with him, a part of her had been carving out a spot for him. Or rather, the space that had been Sakura's was gaping and aching, and she was unconsciously trying to shove his person into that hole.
