𝗦𝗘𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗗 𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 - 𝗛𝗔𝗞𝗨𝗔-𝗡𝗢-𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢
𝗟𝗔𝗗𝗬 𝗛𝗢𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗜'𝗦 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘 ─ 𝗠𝗥 𝗛𝗢𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗨'𝗦 𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗦𝗘
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She stood there with an effortless kind of presence — the sort that didn't demand attention but received it anyway.
Her long, straight black hair was swept into two side buns, pinned with dark floral accessories that caught the morning light in quiet, deliberate ways. Her expression was cool and unreadable, the kind of neutral that felt more like a choice than an absence. She wore a form-fitting black cheongsam — intricate dark embroidery of dragons and flowers winding across the fabric, a high collar, short sleeves, and a slit along the side that rose to her thigh. Black ruffled gloves covered her hands. In her right, she held a transparent circular fan decorated with white flowers, lifted just enough to obscure the lower half of her face.
"How do you feel...?"
He shrugged.
"Have you been here...or did you visit early this morning?"
"I've been around." She tilted the fan slightly. "I possessed the body of a ghost, so Mr. Hotaru couldn't see me. In summary — I've been in your room since you fell asleep last night."
She stepped closer.
"Last night... a faint glow appeared on your arms. First golden — then something dark swallowed it whole. That black light was what drew the portrait." She watched him carefully. "You were clutching the sheets so tightly. At some point, you were even crying. But your tears, no matter how heavy..." She paused. "They never touched the sheets. It was as though someone was wiping them away — but I couldn't see anyone there."
She lowered the fan just slightly.
"Mr. Hotaru probably believes you're the devil's child. You know those rumors that float around." A beat.
"I never thought they were actually true. But seriously — you're the one with wish manifestation power?" Her eyes narrowed, not unkindly, but sharp.
"Does our principal know this? Is that why she let you join the student council back when you were still considered powerless?"
Yurina talked and talked.
Shiharu simply stared at her.
Beneath the surface of his silence, thousands of unspoken thoughts moved like deep water — too much to sort through all at once. The fact that this was his third life. That Hoshiyuki had been sent to the human world specifically to guard him. That the truth surrounding his birth had only just cracked open. And underneath all of it, quiet and cold like something he didn't want to look at directly — the fear. Not of what he was becoming. Not of what it meant.
But of the people he loved flinching when they looked at him.
Mr. Hotaru. Reika. Yuki.
Not them. Anyone but them. And Hoshiyuki...
"....Were you thinking of me? Lirion?"
The voice came out of nowhere.
Shiharu's eyes snapped up.
Hoshiyuki's face appeared — inches from his, close enough that Shiharu nearly stepped back. He was perched on the low fence railing of the traditional rooftop where they stood, legs hanging over the edge with careless ease, body falling back with his arms folded loosely behind his head. His long golden hair spilled downward in loose strands, catching the morning light like threads of actual sunlight had gotten tangled in it.
He was smiling. Wide and unguarded and completely unbothered by the world.
A white turtleneck sweater. White fitted pants. Even white socks. Everything about him looked comfortable — soft in a way that felt almost startling. And there was something else different about him. Something harder to name. His form had more weight to it. More presence. The ghostly translucence that had clung to him before was receding — fading, brick by brick, like something being slowly rebuilt from the inside out. His sleep had done something. His human body was returning to him, quietly, piece by piece.
"Li... Liriel...?" Shiharu's voice came out barely above a breath. "Hoshiyuki...?"
He stared.
"You're... you're really here."
Before the words had even fully left his mouth — Hoshiyuki dropped from the railing with practiced, weightless ease, crossed the distance between them, and pulled him into a hug. Both arms. All the way. The kind of hug that didn't leave room for anything else.
"I missed you so much..."
He murmured it against Shiharu's hair, his hands moving through the dark strands with quiet tenderness. His voice was warm — filled to the edges with something that didn't need to be explained.
A strangled noise came from somewhere to their left.
Yurina had raised her fan to cover her face. Her eyes, visible above the rim, were wide and glassy and trembling with the specific kind of emotion only a truly devoted fan could understand.
*Wait — is this a BL drama?* Her thoughts moved at full speed behind her composed exterior. *A BL drama. In real life. In front of me. This is amazing — BL, BL — guys it's BL!!! Rahhh —* She gripped the fan tighter. *I'm so glad I came this morning. I should have brought my phone. Ahh — is it just me or — hehh — who IS he? I haven't seen his face. Golden hair. A blonde and a black-haired boy's love story? I am completely, entirely, unconditionally in.*
She sucked in a slow breath through her nose.
*No. No. Keep your expression calm and composed. You must not be noticed. They will think you have gone crazy.*
She exhaled. Opened her fan wider. Schooled her face into something approaching serenity.
It was a close call.
"Shouldn't you be apologizing to me instead?"
Shiharu's voice cut through the moment, quiet but pointed.
Hoshiyuki's smile softened at the edges — not disappearing, but shifting into something more honest. More careful.
"You're right." His tone was gentle, carrying the kind of sadness that didn't perform itself.
"I feel like I've been apologizing a lot lately. But — any punishment you think is fair..." He loosened his hold and began to step back. "I'll do it"
He was already lowering himself toward the ground — about to kneel.
"...Who said you could pull away?"
Shiharu's voice. Flat. One raised eyebrow.
He reached out and pulled him back.
Both arms this time, anchoring Hoshiyuki in place before tucking his face into the crook of his neck. He stayed there. Still. Quiet. Just breathing.
Finally. I missed this warmth so much.
Something in his chest unraveled — slow and involuntary, the kind of release that comes only after you've been holding on too long without realizing it.
Finally. He's back.
It was almost embarrassing, how quickly it happened. One look at his face and every weight he'd been carrying had simply... eased. He hadn't expected that. He hadn't expected it to be that simple.
And he smelled good. Unreasonably, distractingly good. The kind of good that made the space behind Shiharu's thoughts go quiet in a way nothing else managed to.
He's mine. The thought arrived plainly, without ceremony. He's been mine from the very beginning.
Something shifted in his jaw.
His mouth opened — slowly — fangs extending along his teeth as his hand curved around the side of Hoshiyuki's neck, drawing him just close enough. Close enough that the distance between his fangs and skin became almost nothing.
He bit down.
Nghh—
Hoshiyuki's hand rose instinctively, threading into Shiharu's jet-black hair. His fingers curled there — not pulling away. Just holding.
"Is this my punishment?" His voice came out quiet, a little breathless. Then, after a beat — "You've forgotten. I'm not human anymore. I don't have... blood."
Shiharu pulled back.
Crimson eyes. Fangs lightly stained.
Hoshiyuki blinked — then looked down.
Wait...
His stunned expression shifted into something close to disbelief as he slowly grazed his fingers across his own arm, checking. Confirming.
Blood. His blood.
Actually there.
"How..." Hoshiyuki shook his head slowly, turning his arm over like the answer might be written somewhere on the other side. "How is that possible...?"
Neither of them had an answer.
Shiharu reached out without a word. He pressed the tip of his finger to the place where the blood ran, lifted it to his lips, and tasted it. A pause. Then he brought Hoshiyuki's arm to his mouth properly, drinking slowly from the wound that should not have existed.
A sob broke the silence.
Both of them looked up.
Yurina had the fan pressed flush against her face. Her shoulders were shaking. Behind the decorated paper, silent tears streamed — the private grief of a passionate BL fan who had witnessed something extraordinary and had absolutely nothing to document it with.
How... she thought, devastated. How could I miss capturing this with my phone??
"Who's... that?"
Hoshiyuki asked, genuinely uncertain, peering around Shiharu's shoulder.
Yurina lowered the fan.
Her eyes landed on him fully for the first time — took in his face, his golden hair, the soft glow of something that wasn't quite human anymore clinging to the edges of him — and whatever composure she had rebuilt in the last two minutes disintegrated instantly.
Dear Goodness Gracious ─ WHO IS HE??
Her expression screamed it even as her mouth stayed shut.
Who in the world is this person? Did he fall out of the sun? The two of them could walk into any modelling agency and be famous within months. Is he a ghost? That energy around him — right, he said he wasn't human anymore. How could this world allow someone this beautiful to die?
"Call her Yuri," Shiharu said, already turning his attention back. "Yurina. She lives here too."
He said it the way one might point out a piece of furniture — present, noted, not requiring further commentary.
Hoshiyuki's gaze lingered on her for a moment.
"She can... see me?"
"She can see ghosts," Shiharu said. "Practically anything related to the dead."
"That's one attractive ghost," Yurina said.
Her voice came out very calm. Impressively so.
Shiharu and Hoshiyuki both turned to look at each other at the same time — a brief, unspoken exchange.
Then, without coordination, without planning, both of them opened their mouths.
"I'm taken —"
"— he belongs to me."
The words landed in perfect unison.
Silence followed. The kind that rings.
The breeze moved through the space between all three of them.
Yurina blinked once. Twice. Brought the fan up to her lips.
"I — um." She laughed. Bright, slightly unhinged around the edges. "I fully support whatever is happening here. Don't misunderstand me. Haha."