Chapter Text

⋆༺𓃦༻⋆

Punch. Stretch. Roll. Flip. Repeat.

Kou was trained on the dough before him, grinding his hands into its pillowy flesh and pulling at the edges to thoroughly incorporate the dry mixture. The motion is almost comforting in a mindless sense as he allows the repetition to possess him. A sliver of weariness began to prick at his joints after working with the fickle substance for so long but he found no reason to complain; after all, he knew the result would be well worth the trouble.

His assistant stood by the table, watching idly. “Why are you doing all this again?”

Kou turns to Mitsuba, hands slowing but not stopping his kneading. “Doing all of what?”

Mitsuba blankly gestures to the mess of a baking station. “This.”

Kou rolls his eyes, flipping the dough once more. “I told you already, the manager hasn't been feeling well and I think it’d be…nice to give him something.” He rounds the dough into a ball and slaps it for good measure.

“Since when do you care about being nice? You barely like him either.” Mitsuba scoffs, reluctantly moving aside as Kou passes through to grab a bowl. He watches as Kou continues his work, unbothered. “And you know he’s a vampire, right? Unless there’s blood in there, all you’re doing is just wasting your time.”

Kou sets down the bowl with a metallic clang. “It’s the thought that counts!” He grabs the dough and plops it into the bowl. “Besides, if he gets better then maybe, he’ll get off our backs. Haven't you ever thought of that?”

“Yeah, right. He’ll be crazy anyways.”

Kou sighs, placing a small cloth over the top. “Can’t hurt to try.”

“Speaking of the manager,” Mitsuba hops onto the kitchen island, “Did you hear the rumors?”

“Which ones?” Kou asks absentmindedly as he puts the bowl aside. It’s not unusual to hear all kinds of rumors floating around the hotel. Many of the guests and staff members seem to thrive on it, always gossiping about the latest exaggerated affairs or superficial tragedies. He reaches for the bench knife in the drawer.

“Well, I couldn't get much out of the mokke but he sounds pretty busy lately; I’ve heard it's because he’s with a girl.”

Kou raises a brow but doesn’t bother to look up. It's honestly one of the tamer things he’s heard about the guy and in a way, it’s almost disappointing. Using his bench knife, he scrapes away the flour dusted on the counter. “So what? He can have relationships too, you know.”

“Uhm, a relationship between a hotel guest and manager? I think not.” Mitsuba retorts.

Ah. He thinks, There it is. Finally, Kou looks up. “Who is it?”

“No clue. The mokke were vague and the others have been tight lipped so it honestly could be anyone.” Mitsuba shrugs. Aaanddd with that, Kou goes back to his work. The mummy continues anyways, “She’s gotta be insane though, going out with someone like him.”

“I don’t know, he can be pretty seductive when he wants to be.” Kou says absentmindedly as he sweeps the flour into a small pile. When Mitsuba fails to give him a prompt rebuttal, Kou glances up to find a judgemental grimace waiting for him instead. Instantly, he flushes. “Don’t look at me like that—You’ve seen the way he acts; he flirts with everyone!”

“Uh huh.” Mitsuba nods slowly the way a nurse would to entertain a delirious patient.

”C’mon, he’s always hanging off some guests, trying to woo them to stay longer or messing with us to get whatever he wants.” Kou explains, thinking back to the times where Hanako hung around the kitchen begging them to make him something special after hours. More often than not, Kou would cave—not because he wanted to please him or anything! But because Hanako wouldn't leave them alone till he did.

Mitsuba scoffs, “Sounds like someone’s fallen under the manager’s spell one too many times, huh, lameass dog boy?”

“Shut up! You know what I mean—” Kou will go red in the face defending himself if he has to. He’s not crazy—he swears it! Hanako has been a cheeky, teasing prick since forever. Anyone can see through the way his touch lingers on guests or the flit of his voice when he talks. Anyone!

Kou’s ready to argue his case again when Mitsuba finally breaks character, laughing at his misery. “You’re seriously way too easy!”

All at once, Kou realizes with his cheeks hot and mind spiraling that Mitsuba was, of course, only playing dumb. “Bastard,” He spits as he promptly attempts shoving Mitsuba off the counter.

It’s ineffective obviously, only getting Mitsuba to protest “Don’t touch me, pervert,” through his mirth as he continues evading Kou’s wrath.

Before their little fight could escalate any further, the intercom system buzzes in with a call for Kou upfront. They exchange glances: amused pink on exasperated cerulean. By the gleam of Mitsuba’s eyes, it was clear that this wasn't a truce, it was a plain ol 'forfeit. With a sigh, Kou dusts his hands off and heads for the door as the mummy grins victoriously. “Clean up the flour and watch the dough for me.” He orders, “Make sure the mokke don’t try eating it again.”

“No promises, dog boy.”

Kou only rolls his eyes as he makes his swift exit.

⋆༺𓃦༻⋆

Working at the esteemed Ghost Hotel is somehow both underwhelming and overwhelming all at once. Since the hotel only deals with a handful of guests on a daily basis, it was easy for the staff to keep up with the workload. Everyone has their designated roles and tasks to ensure a smooth stay for the guests that come in and out. However, that’s not to say everyone’s responsibilities are equal.

Kou, for example, has volunteered to take on extra duties ever since he was hired. Officially, he’s merely the hotel’s chef but in practice, he’s a chef, housekeeper and gardener. While some days it can be quite stressful to manage, Kou’s full schedule is what keeps him fulfilled: the gratification he brings with his food, the excitement he grows with his plants and the satisfaction he offers with his cleaning. Besides, having his hands full and mind busy makes it easy for his dreary thoughts to fall between the cracks.

As Kou predicted, when he reaches the front desk, Akane informs him about the cleaning to be done in room 81. He pushes the service cart towards him and it rattles with a metallic clang as it rolls into his side.

“Make sure not to leave any fur behind this time,” Akane warns as he scribbles something down. “I don’t need to listen to any more complaints about your housekeeping.”

“Yeaahhh sorry about that, man. I guess it’s shedding season,” Kou explains, offering an apologetic smile. Akane doesn’t seem to care.

“It’s fine, just try to keep it to a minimum, alright?”

“You got it.” Kou nods. Again, Akane doesn’t break away from his notes. He glances at them from over the desk, “What are you doing?”

“I’m working out next month’s supplies and preparations.”

Kou’s brows scrunch together. “Isn’t that the manager’s job?”

At the mention of the manager, Akane snaps up and Kou almost flinches at his chipper tone. “I’m so glad you asked!” He smiles, “Yes. Yes it is.” He bangs a fist against the desk as frustration pours out his mouth. “That slimy asshole has been going off the rails and leaving me to finish all his work. Again!”

“Why?”

Akane laughs bitterly, “Why? Because before every busy season, he always stresses himself out and disappears to who knows where for days on end which leaves people like me to pick up the slack.”

The demon mumbles a string of curses under his breath as if he were chanting a spell. Regret begins to set in as Akane starts a long-winded rant about the manager; from his strict leadership to his sleazy hospitality, nothing went unscathed.

And Kou will admit that there's certainly merit to his complaints. For one, Hanako is an assertive manager who always ensures the hotel is operating smoothly through rigorous inspections and constant supervision. It’s only natural that he would be at odds with the staff who have to deal with his heavy expectations and well…him in general. His insistent meddling and peculiar demands paired with his rather annoying ‘can do’ attitude makes working a lot more tiring. Kou tries his best to stay atop it all but even he feels the pressure sometimes. Then on the topic of Hanako’s hospitality…the rumors of him seeing guests aren’t entirely unfounded that’s for sure.

But despite all of Hanako’s faults, some part of Kou—some distinctly human part of Kou continues to care. He remembers what it was like to be sick and working. Remembers what it was like to push through the brink of exhaustion as his body fought him every step of the way. It’s an awful, agonizing feeling that takes root inside your tissue and festers and festers and festers until you’re rendered temperamentally incoherent and Kou doesn't want that. No matter how much Hanako pisses him off, he doesn't want him—or anybody for that matter—to suffer through that.

[Not alone, at least.]

“And—what’s with that face?” Akane suddenly imposes as he notices Kou’s contemplative expression.

The pointed stare Akane gives Kou is enough to snap him out of his reverie. He looks right back at him with an awkward smile, hoping to soften the blow of his next statement. “Nothing! Just,“ his fingers tangle in his hair nervously, “don’t you think that maybe there's a way to help hi—”

“Chef,” Akane cuts, voice grave, “whatever you’re planning, stop right there.”

All Kou can muster is a hollow “what?” as Akane’s stern glare takes hold of him. For a second, he doesn't move, doesn't blink. He expected the apprehension but the speed at which he was shut down was uncalled for. Seriously, why is it that Kou’s plans are always rejected the same way a child’s ideas are dismissed? Quick and instant like the mere thought of it was too much to even suggest. Not only was this disheartening on Hanako’s behalf but on Kou's too. Doesn't anybody have faith in them anymore? “Look, I know no one likes the guy, but no one ever seems to give him a chance—”

Like clockwork, Akane shuts him down once more, tone potent with irritation, “Listen to me when I say it’s not about chances.” His eyes narrow as he looms over the desk and closes in on Kou. “It’s about sanity.” He enunciates, almost hissing with the word. “He hasn’t been well.”

The ridiculousness of his last statement isn't lost on Kou who scoffs. Of course he hasn't been well, it's plain as day when they could barely catch glimpses of the guy during work hours and in the rare instances they did, he was five shades paler than usual, snappy whenever he spoke and skittish if he was approached. Sure, it’s a risk to deal with Hanako in this state but if they treat him like some annoyance to be ignored, his condition will only get worse. “You act like he’s gonna kill me.”

Kou expects Akane to fire back another argument, another lecture on how idiotic his plans were or how inexperienced he was with the manager but after a lengthy stare down, the demon only resigns, gaze shifting from stern to indignant. “Do what you want, chef. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” With seemingly more force than necessary, Akane’s tail pushes the cart into Kou’s side, reminding him to get to work.

Kou snatches the handle, uttering a petty “fine by me” as he walks off. He’s not pressed about Akane’s words. He’s not. Despite what his wilted ears say, he will go through with his plan because Hanako deserves a chance like the rest of them. Though the hotel staff may be employed by monsters, he just knows there’s a lingering sense of humanity within them all. He’ll prove it.

He has to.

⋆༺𓃦༻⋆

The hotel’s hallways being long and cavernous only meant that any trips down them were full of rumination. The high, echoey ceilings lined with intricate trims make you feel small and feeble in comparison; the large, pellucid windows pouring moonlight from the blood red sky make you feel dizzy and troubled; the paintings of mysterious figures with roaming eyes on the wall make you feel insecure and watched. No matter where you are, the hotel always has a way of drawing the dread out of you.

Unease brews beneath Kou’s chest, mingling with his repressed frustration as he pushes the cart over the too smooth carpet in the too big hall. His ears pick up the stupidest sounds like the periodic squeaks of the cart’s wheels as it rolls or the periodic steps of his leather shoes as he walks or the periodic clang of the cart’s contents as it bumps together. It’s times like these when Kou dislikes his heightened sense of hearing the most. It’s easy to drone out noise when there’s an abundance of it because everything blends into one unified sound. But in an absence of it, Kou can either hone in on every little thing until it drives him mad or retreat into his mind where all his memories, thoughts and emotions mix into one big tangled mess.

He, inevitably, falls victim to the latter.

Kou’s thoughts marinate in the silence. Most of them fixate on Mitsuba and Akane’s comments; Maybe it's the disparaging look Mitsuba gave him or perhaps it’s the judgemental tone Akane adopted after he told them about the plan that sticks to Kou’s sensibility like tar, staining his good intentions with an unreasonable amount of anger and frustration. It shouldn't affect him this much. It really shouldn't! He’s done this dance a million times before, this tune of disbelief battling against a sliver of hope striking a familiar chord he would rather ignore. But no matter how much he tries, he can't hide how much their words weigh down his conscience.

“Unless there’s blood in there, all you’re doing is just wasting your time.”

“It’s not about chances; it’s about sanity.”

Kou’s grip on the cart handle tightens. The way they describe Hanako as a burden rather than a person in need has him boiling. So what if he’s a little high maintenance? That doesn’t mean he’s not worth helping.

Too many times Kou was told to stay out of others’ affairs but he never could stomach the sight of suffering as well as his superiors could. The homeless’ sunken flesh and ivory pallors. The elderly's weakening bones and permeating loneliness. None of it was ever turned a blind eye if Kou could help it.

His persistence often disappointed—or rather, worried?—someone dear to him. Who it was, Kou couldn’t say. Maybe a priest tied to his family? Or a fatherly figure to replace his absent one? It’s all a blur of blank faces and stern tones that Kou doesn’t dare to dissect. It would be like digging up his own grave and piecing his life story through bones.

A moment passes and Kou lets out a pained groan as he realizes the irony of his statement. Being a werewolf does him no favors when he leans so much into doglike behavior—ie. digging for bones. Maybe Mitsuba was right. Maybe he is a lameass dog boy.

With a deep breath in through his nostrils and a deep breath out his mouth, Kou recomposes himself. Hanako will be receiving his support in one way or another regardless of what the others think. After all, it’s only right after what Hanako has done for him.

The question had been proposed a few days after Kou had woken up at the Ghost hotel. It was a peculiar place, staffed and housed entirely by monsters: mummies, ghouls, cyclops—all sorts of creatures Kou never would have even imagined had suddenly come alive and congregated inside the hotel’s dining area, devouring a supper of choice as they gossiped the night away. Amongst those monsters were Kou and the manager, a vampire by the name of Hanako.

The first time Kou had met Hanako, he attempted to kill him. It was instinctual and frenzied, spurred on by the glimpse of ultra sharp fangs and a bedroom he didn’t recognize along with the feeling of a foggy brain and ache in his leg that wouldn't go away. Back then, Kou expected Hanako’s voice to be raspy and dark, something fitting for a vicious creature like him. But when Hanako speaks now, voice curious and inviting, Kou realizes he was nothing like those age-old tales of vampires who snatch women and children in the night.

“Say, how long will you be staying with us, esteemed guest?”

Kou opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. His mind is hazy with memories of the lives he’s lived and lost, of the people he’s loved and left. He knows so much, yet he’s sure of so little and it hurts. “I don’t know.” is what Kou ends up admitting more out of unconscious thought than genuine respondance. Hanako says nothing at all but Kou catches a glint of recognition in those eyes.

“Well, if you're in no rush to leave,” Hanako extends a hand to Kou as his other one rests over his chest, “how would you like to work for us?” He smiles. “Something tells me you’ll be a good addition to the kitchen.”

Kou flickers between Hanako’s patient amber eyes to his exposed fangs. They’re sharp and protrudent, shining in the dining room lighting. A faint sense of disgust wells up in his chest the longer he stares. It’s unnatural, disturbing, dangerous. But somehow, someway Kou feels at ease tracing the shape of them.

The past is gone. He can’t undo what he did: can’t undo the wolf ears and tail that sprout from his body, can’t undo the heightened senses that intertwine with his system, can’t undo the matching set of canines protruding from his gums the same way Hanako’s does. The mirror standing across from him with his open palm and reassuring smile is a firm reminder: there’s no return from this.

Kou hesitates for a moment, his hand fanning out against the table as he scans Hanako’s expression. It seems real, full of that human altruism despite the monsterly features. A pensive anchor hits the bottom of Kou’ stomach as he realizes he isn't much different from Hanako in that sense. In a human world, Kou would not be afforded the same credence—why, how could he with those beastly ears, teeth and tail of his?—but here in the Ghost hotel? He was made to feel right at home with the rest of the outcasts of society.

Slowly, he meets Hanako’s gaze and takes his hand. It takes a second for Kou to find his words but a simple and finite “Sure,” is what he settles on. Though Hanako’s palm may be cold to the touch, Kou feels warmer when he sees that fangy smile bloom impossibly wider.

“Welcome to the team then,” Hanako gleamed, “chef.”

From healing his broken leg to giving him a place to call home, Kou has reason to be grateful towards Hanako! Especially after that memorable first impression. Kou grimaces when he thinks about it now, embarrassed by his lack of tact and overt hostility. It made sense at the time but when he remembers his view of Hanako, of humanoid monsters that he was raised to hate, he can only see how wrong he was. Of course, the manager was a lot of things—sleezy, mischievous, strict—but underneath it all, he was a good person.

[or so Kou wants to believe at least.]

Constantly checking on employees to make sure things were okay, always involved in customer affairs even if it had nothing to do with him—his hands were always extended to something and that’s what counts in Kou’s eyes. Yeah, it got annoying sometimes but it’s Hanako’s job! He’s supposed to be a nuisance.

…Well, maybe not too much.

It happened sometime ago during lunch hours. Kou was in the kitchen, preparing a steak while Mitsuba fetched some supplies from their pantry. He was lost in the smell of savory meat, tantalizing spices and salty butter when a thief came barging into the room, shifting through cabinets, iceboxes and rouge containers.

“What?” Kou glances at Hanako incredulously while he spoons melted butter over the steak.

Hanako leans on the island counter with his arms crossed and brows furrowed after his whole frantic stunt, venom never leaving his voice as he repeats, “Are you deaf? I’m asking you if there’s any more pig's blood.”

Right away, Kou can already tell something was wrong. If his irritated stature wasn't enough, then his tired glare combined with his unnatural pallor was a dead giveaway. He tries not to think much of it at first, instead prioritizing the task at hand. “No, manager. We ran out a few days ago.”

Hanako sucks in a strained breath through his nose. “And you didn't think to tell me this until now because…?”

“Because,” Kou shimmies his spoon under the steak and flips it over, “because you said you were busy whenever we—”

A slap echoes throughout the kitchen and Kou snaps to the sound, scrunching his brows when he sees Hanako dragging a hand down his face. “If you would have said it was about supplies then I would’ve listened—”

“Well, how were we supposed to know that?” Kou retorts, more bite in his voice than he means to bare.

Hanako clicks his tongue. “Don’t give me an attitude.”

“I’m not—I just,” Kou pauses before a plethora of words could cascade off his tongue like a carriage rolling on a cliff. He takes a breath, setting down his spoon to look at Hanako properly. “Manager, is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything is fine,” Hanako says with his amber eyes trailing away from Kou’s cerulean ones, “just fine.”

There’s something to Hanako’s absent tone that Kou can't ignore. “You sure?” Kou presses, a reassuring hand reaching for Hanako’s shoulder, “You don't sound fine...”

It was as if Kou’s hand was made of silver the way Hanako violently flinches away from it, retreating a few steps back on the hard tile. Kou’s eyes go wide as his hand instantly kicks back at the sudden motion. His concern doubles tenfold as he watches Hanako’s grip on his arms constrict, expression morphing from startled to afflicted. Kou was about to press him further when the sound of footsteps broke whatever spell they were under.

“Just,” Hanako starts, fatigue coarse against his throat as he shoots Kou one last tired look before he disappears, “do your job, okay?”

Hanako wasn't himself these days, least to say. Within the span of a week or so, Kou witnessed his spirit deteriorate into something scornful and skittish: his sunken eyes always narrowed with a seething ire, his cracked lips always posed in a firm frown. While Hanako always had that foreboding side to him, lingering in his lighthearted threats and stern demands, it was only ever an undertone to his usual upbeat character; Nowadays it took complete precedence in his tone, cadence and demeanor. With that rotten attitude, it’s difficult to imagine any guests wanting to stay at the hotel for long.

“He sounds pretty busy lately; I’ve heard it's because he’s with a girl.”

At the mention of guests, Kou is suddenly reminded of the rumors. Seeing as how Hanako’s been acting lately, he highly doubts it's true. If he could hardly hold a civil conversation with his employees, he probably couldn't court a girl either.

Wait…

Is that why he’s been acting out? One girl rejects his advances and suddenly he’s mopey all week? God, it all makes sense now!

Kou smiles to himself, filled with a new sense of determination.
He’ll make quick work of cleaning room 81 and then he’ll bake those pastries right away. It’s a long shot but if Hanako gives them to the girl, maybe, just maybe he could win her back and stop being so damn grouchy all the time!

Yeah, that’s it! This cleaning will be a quick in and out. After all, when there’s love on the line, he can't waste any time.

⋆༺𓃦༻⋆

A quick in and out.

A quick in and out, Kou reminds himself when he’s suddenly struck by the unmistakable scent of iron: metallic and potent. It weaves into his nostrils and lingers like a fog he can’t ignore. It’s not uncommon to smell blood somewhere in the hotel, not when their guests are often blood-thirsty monsters, but this smells…different.

Room 81, Akane said.

He repeats the number over and over in his head as he passes by each room. He flouts the ever growing sense of dread coiling in his stomach as the scent gets stronger with every step.

[It's not the pigs’ blood they serve at the hotel but…it can’t be what he thinks it is, right?]

Room 58. His grip on the handle tightens. It’s fine, it’s okay. Kou will be done in a flash and it will be like he was never there. It will be like the smell never caught in his lungs, never raked at his stomach lining.

[There’s only one type of blood that gets him to react this way.]

Room 64. His nose twitches. Instinct tells him to ditch the cart and rush after the trail.

[He can’t tell which set of instincts they were.]

Room 77. He bites the inside of his lip. He doesn't ditch the cart, of course. He has too much stake in his job to do so.

[But he would be lying if he said he wasn’t going as fast as he could.]

Room 80. It’s undeniable now. The scent—no, the stench of something awfully fresh, something awfully human is near.

Kou slows as he draws closer to the fated room, heart thrumming with anticipation. The cart halts at the edge of the door and he’s almost afraid to cross the threshold of whatever horror surely lies ahead of him.

But he must.

With limber hands, he lets go of the cart’s handle and grabs the ring of spare keys to the second floor. As he sifts through them, the dread coiled in his stomach festers, kneading at his insides like dough.

Punch. He swallows.

Stretch. He breathes.

Roll. He grits.

Flip. He sweats.

Repeat.

When he finally finds the key and goes to unlock the door, he’s shocked to discover that it was already cracked. Steadying his drumming heart, he puts his fingertips to the cold door and pushes with baited breath caught between his teeth and the ring of keys still warm in his other hand. Slowly, carefully, he peers his head inside the sliver he’s made. At first, he doesn't see anything, too occupied on his churning stomach to focus, but then…

His keys fall to the floor with one metallic clang.

Instantly, the figure snaps to the sound and Kou gasps. Their eyes lock in dimly lit space, frozen cerulean against glowing ruby, like predator and prey. The stench of blood is stronger than it’s ever been before, infiltrating his senses in the same way a curse would. The nauseating dread turned primal fear in his stomach travels up his esophagus and threatens to spill as he takes in the deep crimson staining the figure’s mouth, neck, clothes and…victim.

She’s a woman—that much Kou can tell from her dress. She lays across the figure’s lap with one of her arms limp on the floor and the other folded over her stomach. Though her head hangs back against the figure’s arm and obscures her face from view, he can only imagine what sick expression it's contorted into.

Kou’s eyes trails back up to meet the assailant’s. He sits on the floor hunched over her body, unmoving. In one ugly, almost inaudible breath, Kou utters, “Manager…?”

The manager does nothing to quell the flurry of emotions welling in Kou’s body; Instead, he fuels it as he continues to stare unblinkingly. Tonight, his usual amber irises are replaced with ruby ones, his pupils thin and sharp as a knife. The longer Kou stares back, the more he feels its cutting edge.

“It’s rude to interrupt a personal dinner.” Hanako edicts.

The callous tone slaps Kou out of his stationary trance. He slams the door open, anger taking precedence when he catches Hanako attempting to resume his feast with his fangs hanging over the victim’s neck like nothing happened. “What the hell are you doing?!”

Hanako stops just short of another bite to shoot him a glare. “Is that how you speak to your superior?”

“I’m not in the mood for kissing ass right now.” Kou grits as he blocks the exit.

Another staring contest. The ire in Hanako’s eyes slowly wanes, melting into a dark morass as something inside Kou sinks. “Hm. Isn’t it obvious?” A sinister smile blooms across his bloodsoaked face as he tilts his head and shifts his arms, revealing the carnage he made of the victim’s neck. “I’m enjoying a meal, can’t you see?”

A harsh gasp sucks past Kou’s lips. The side of her neck is littered with puncture wounds, some still gaping a bright red. It stains her clothes and skin like tar. Kou’s brows scrunch together as his lips begin to quiver at the sight. She’s knocked out cold: eyes shut, mouth parted and complexion pale. Everything about her screams death and the addition of her stench wafting throughout the small room doesn't help either.

Was this the girl Hanako was busy with?

“You—you killed her!”

A harsh laugh forces itself past Hanako’s lips. It’s hollow and cold, a stark contrast to what Kou remembers. “Killed her? Please, she’s just unconscious.” He grabs her wrist and pauses for a moment as he reads her pulse, smug smile never leaving his face. “See? She’s still got a pulse.”

A range of uncertainty, fear and anger flashed across Kou’s face. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t tear himself away from watching this entire train wreck unfold before his very eyes. His vision darts from their hands to her face then finally the up and down of her chest. She’s still alive—still alive and trapped in Hanako’s clutches and Kou hates the twinge of familiarity that snags at his conscience at the sight.

He’s not going to make the same mistake twice.

Kou’s fingers ball into a tight fist at his sides. With narrowed eyes and bared teeth, he orders, “Get away from her.”

“You’re in no position to make dema—”

“I said,” Kou stalks ever so closer towards Hanako, growling like some territorial animal as he repeats, “get away from her.” He’s nearly snarling at this point with his gums exposed and claws extruded.

They stare at each other in silence. The adrenaline rushing through Kou’s veins feels agonizing in the stationary trance. He wants to lunge, wants to pounce but his consciousness holds him back, saying that maybe, just maybe he finally got through to Hanako.

Of course it’s never that easy. Before long, Hanako is laughing again—somehow even colder than before. “My, what an attitude you have. Don’t you know this is the price of a stay at our hotel?”

The scowl on Kou’s face all but falls at his words. His brows knit together as he lets out an incredulous “What?”

Hanako doesn’t falter. “Mhm. We never charge our guests a thing for their stay here. Not money, not possessions, nothing.” He explains, eying the girl’s neck as if to drive a point home. “It’s only right they pay us back this way.”

This way…? Kou’s mind echoes his explanation word by word. He knew the hotel didn’t charge guests in the typical fashion but he never would have guessed—

“No,” Kou says in disbelief, almost to himself. Then quickly, suddenly, he finds the anger resurging in his throat as it all sets in, “No, this isn’t right! What kinda evil hotel would make guests pay with their own life?!”

“Is it really all that evil to want to survive?” Hanako sighs, “and I told you already, we don’t kill them. It’s simply the price of our hospitality.”

“Hospitality, my ass! Look at how much blood is on you! No hospitable vampire should feed on their own guests—let alone that much.”

Hanako looks like he’s about to spit another managerial rebuttal when his eyes widen for a second and his mouth slowly falls shut. He glances at himself, bloodied and sticky, then at the girl, weak and feeble, and a smidgeon of his certainty fades. “Hmph. Alright, I admit I might have gotten a little carried away,” He says and Kou grinds his teeth, “but I’d like to remind you, wolf, that we’re all monsters here. None of us are immune to our true nature.”

The way Hanako says wolf digs into Kou as if it were a slur. While there’s no disdain in his voice, there's certainly admonishment that burns just as much. The name is a reminder of everything Kou is and everything he isn’t. It’s a reminder of his heightened senses, enhanced energy and accelerated abilities; it’s a reminder of his overwhelming instinct, lack of civilization and inhuman strength.

Hanako points a finger at Kou. “Not even you. You hold yourself to such a righteous standard but I know on full moons you are just as bad as the rest of us.” He says, voice laced with patronization like he was reprimanding a puppy. “Always hungering for more than you want to chew.”

Kou’s gaze falls to the floor. He hates to say it, he really does but there's truth in Hanako’s words. Nearly every full moon, Kou locked himself in his room in a shoddy attempt to spare the others from his reckoning. He’d tear curtains, writhe against walls, chew the furniture. Every hour of the night he felt it. The urge to run. To howl. To hunt.

Hanako lets out an amused huff as he watches Kou’s expression decay into a husk of his earlier passion. With the way Kou’s breath growing more ragged by the minute, it wouldn't be long until he would cave. “Even now, I can tell you're holding yourself back. Come on, play nice and maybe I’ll let you have your share.”

Kou’s claws dig into his palm. “No.”

“No? Well then—”

Kou suddenly lunges at Hanako, shoving his shoulders into the hardwood floor. The table crashes with a loud clang as they knock back into it hard. Somewhere in his mind, Kou registers the splash of liquid across his clothes but he couldn't care less, too enthralled with the writhing vampire pinned below him. “No, I’m not my instincts!” He snarls, eyes wide and fangs beared. “I don’t need human blood to survive, I don’t need to feed on the innocent! I don’t need anything from you!”

Hanako hisses from the pain, eyes shut tight and brows knit together. His signature cap is knocked off his head, making him look much more human than Kou would've expected; Though once he opens his eyes to reveal that devilish ruby, the idea is discarded immediately. The vampire hacks, “There you are. I was wondering when you would pounce on me.” He coughs a bit, voice hoarse with blood, “Don't need anything, huh?”

“Nothing.” Kou repeats, pressing his palms against the blades of Hanako’s shoulders and tightening his legs either side of his body.

“Really? Not a job, not a home? Nothing?” Hanako rasps, eyes narrowing. “Don't forget who rehabilitated you.”

An ache creeps into Kou’s once broken leg. It’s a phantom sensation, the kind that comes from wounds healing wrong or too quickly for the body to keep up. It serves as another painful reminder of how tied he was to the hotel, to Hanako—that awful vampire who plays saint rehabilitating injured mutts like Kou.

When Kou fails to respond, Hanako continues, “You keep neglecting yourself and some day your hunger will catch up to you: Your muscles will atrophy, your mind will deteriorate and each period between full moons will feel longer than the last.” He warns, “It’s just a part of being one of us and the faster you accept it, the easier this will be on you.”

“How long did it take you to accept it,” Kou’s voice is stern and unwavering as he glares dead on, “manager.”

For once, Hanako doesn't try to answer. He seems to take it as is, an uncomfortable reflection between him and himself. There’s something shameful in his eyes as he presses his lips into a firm line and breaks away from Kou’s gaze.

“Thought so. You’re a sick, sick person.” Kou notes, watching as Hanako gazes over him like he already knew. Just repeating the same old information he’s burned into his skull many, many times over. In that sense, Kou and Hanako were the same: two souls burdened with the knowledge that they will never hunger the same way they did before. It’s all instinct: cold, sickening, ruthless instinct. While Kou has enough resolve to fight it, he understands it’s an inescapable part of nature; vampires need to eat as much as any other creature, supernatural or otherwise, after all. So, he decides that if he can’t stop Hanako’s bloodlust…

“But if you really can’t help it,” Kou glowers as Hanako’s eyes follow back up to him, “take my blood instead.”

he might as well feed into it.

The world around them pauses. For moments uncounted and moments unknown, they stare at each other as two creatures transfixed. Silence stretches between the space of their heaving chests, rising and falling like fermenting dough. Kou studies Hanako’s expression: the crimson staining his parted lips and chin glistening in the light, the sliver of black drowning within the ruby of his wide eyes, the thin frame of his brows lifted into his messy black hair ironically splayed like a halo.

Their stalemate is broken when Hanako laughs. It sounds real this time—something in between that earlier husk of a laugh and the cacophony Kou’s used to hearing. “You’re so naive.” He says, shaking his head with furrowed brows and a smile. “Don’t you know better than to offer blood to a vampire?”

Hanako’s voice is equal parts amused and incredulous as if Kou’s proposition was nothing more than a twisted joke. Kou grinds his hands into the blades of Hanako’s shoulders until it bites. The ebb and flow of his anger churns in his diaphragm and permeates through his bared fangs and ugly tone as he enunciates, “I don’t care, just as long as you stay off the damn guests.”

Baited breath settles between the two as Hanako’s eyes run over Kou. The traces of amusement never leaves, still visible in the inquisitive gleam of his eyes, but whatever else lies in his contemplation remains a mystery to Kou. Adrenaline braces his muscles as he readies for a punch or a claw or a bite—something, anything. Then suddenly with his heart still beating strong and anxious, Hanako instantly disappears.

“Fine, have it your way.” His voice echoes behind Kou and he snaps to the sound only to be faced with Hanako’s caped back. Quickly, Kou rushes to intercede himself between the vampire and the unconscious girl. Hanako seems too busy readjusting his cap to notice. “Two nights from now I expect to see you in my chamber to prove your worth.” The vampire looks back for a second, a bite in his voice when he warns, “Don’t keep me waiting.”

A myriad of words surge Kou’s throat but none of them make it past his lips before Hanako finally vanishes with a grand sweep of his cape. For god knows how long, the werewolf stares at the spot, dilapidation replacing his adrenaline as the emptiness of the room sinks in. The silence would be deafening if it weren't for the sound of his own uneven breath mixing with the unconscious girl’s shallow ones.

It’s times like these when Kou hates his heightened sense of hearing the most.