Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Crimson Curse ❯ Chapter 3 ( Chapter 3 )

 

Chapter 3

 

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Karin slowly blinks open her honey-colored brown eyes; electrified with confusion, to find herself laying on her side on a somebody's couch and she didn't recognize the surroundings.

 

“What the…?”, she mutters, as she sits up, looking around the living-room.

 

The room was average-size, the couch was up against a wall with a recliner to the right of it, a coffee-table that had seen better days sat in front of the couch; in between the couch and the T.V. against the opposite-wall, two end-tables with lamps on them sat on either side of the couch, the carpet looked like it used to be a forest-green but after years of dirt and wearing it looked almost black. She could see a refrigerator in the kitchen to the left of the T.V. , what else she could see of the kitchen was the stove and the sink, the floor was tiled in sky-blue tiles.

 

After looking at her surroundings, she quickly checks her neck for any bite-marks, not finding any she relaxes a little bit.

 

“Good you're awake…”, she heard a male's voice say from the kitchen doorway.

 

She jumps and looks at the man, he had pale lightly sun-kissed light peach skin, mid-night onyx black hair that framed his face; reaching somewhere between the middle of his back to his waist, and memorizing blood-red eyes. She guessed his height was about 6'1”-6'2”, he had a towel draped over his shoulders, a black v-collar t-shirt and faded blue jeans with a black double-strapped leather collar around his neck.

 

“Who are you?”, she asks, not letting her voice give away her fear.

 

“You collapsed, and I brought you home with me for your safety…”, he replies, not answering her question.

 

“Where the hell am I?”, she presses for answers.

 

“I told you, my apartment…”, Vincent says, taking a seat in the recliner and putting an empty wine-glass onto the coffee-table, opening a bag full of thick red fluid and pouring it into the wine-glass.

 

He deposits the half-empty bag onto the table and picks up the glass, grimacing as he brings it the glass to his lips; like he didn't want to drink it, drinking the thick liquid. When he pulls the glass away to pause in his drinking, sweeping his tongue over his lips to clean the fluid from them, Karin saw elongated-canines among his teeth and when she looked over at the bag on the table, it read: `Tokyo Hospital; Blood-type: O'.

 

“You're a vampire, aren't you?”, she questions, slowly inching away from him.

 

“I assure you, I'm not…”, he sighs, knowing it will be difficult to convince her as he puts his glass down onto the table.

 

“You can't trick me! Only vampires drink blood!”, she shouts, standing up and begins to get ready to bolt.

 

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, Karin finds him within inches from her and holding her by the shoulders; keeping her in place, pinning her onto the couch.

 

“Let go!”, she yells.

 

“No, not until you agree to hear me out”, he states.

 

“NO…!”, she screams, closing her eyes as she charged her energy into her raised right-hand and brings it into contact with his cheek, causing a loud slap to ring out through the living-room.

 

Karin peeks open one of her eyes, to look at the man she just slapped, confused as to why he hadn't fallen over as a lifeless corpse; like all the other vampires she had struck with her power had.

 

“What the…?”, she gasps, panicking as she continued to stare into the blood-red eyes of the handsome man she just slapped.

 

The way the light reflected off his blood-red eyes, made them appear to be crimson flames intermingled with orange and yellow flames, and the face they belonged to looked a little annoyed, but indifferent all the same.

 

“Your power; the Banpaia Ten-Ki, is a power that will destroy any vampire it touches…”, Vincent says, “You used it on me, because you believe I'm a vampire, but I wasn't killed. Does that prove to you that I am not one of those vile creatures?”

 

“But… the fangs… and the drinking of blood…”, she stutters.

 

“I'll explain it to you, if you would listen…”, he states.

 

“Uh sure…”, she hesitantly agrees, beginning to blush, “But first, could you…”

 

“Could I what?”

 

“Could you get off of me…This is a little embarrassing…”, she replies, her cheeks darkening to a scarlet-red.

 

“Huh…?”, he gasps, looking down at their position.

 

A blush enflames his cheeks when he realizes that with him on top of her, it looked like they were having sexual-intercourse.

 

“Sorry…”, he says, pushing himself off of her, his face almost as red as his eyes.

 

Karin pushes herself up into a sitting-position, clamping her knees shut and pressing her fists onto her knees as if to keep them close, her whole face being beet-red.

 

“Uh… where to start…”, Vincent asks himself, as he sits back down in the recliner, “My name is Vincent Valentine, I was born October 13, 1680, and 300 years ago I fought against a vampire and lost; the woman I love died and I was cursed…”, he begins.

 

He looks over at Karin to find her listening intently, not wanting to interrupt him any-time soon.

 

“The curse put on me is called; the Curse of Eternal-Bloodlust, which made me immortal…”, he continues, picking up the glass of blood and gulps the rest; a stream of it missing his mouth and trails down his chin, “But it has a second feature, it requires me to drink blood every-night…”, he bitterly says, wiping the blood off his chin with the back of his hand and licks it from his hand, he shudders at what he had just done, “I hate it…”, he quietly whispers, his voice breaking as tears brim his eyes.

 

Karin watches him in silence, seeing crystal-clear tears stream down the cheeks of the now emotional and tormented man in front of her; knowing he had to be human for vampires could only shed tears of blood.

 

“Why not try to not drink blood?”, she asks, deeming this the right moment to speak.

 

“I've tried…”, came his quiet response, “The hunger just grows until it takes over you and you can; or more like, will slaughter a whole small village, just to satisfy the thirst…”, he trails off.

 

“I'm so sorry I asked…”, she gasps, instantly regretting asking the question.

 

“I've even tried to take my own life…”, he says, draping the towel on his lap and lays his left arm on top of it, then takes Karin's dagger out and runs the blade across his flesh; slicing his arm open.

 

“Holy crap! What are you doing?”, Karin screams, rushing over to try to stop the bleeding.

 

“It's fine…”, he flatly replies, pushing her hands away, “See?”

 

She watches as his dark-red blood quickly oozes from the wound on his arm, gasping in shock as it heals and closes on its own within a matter of seconds; leaving no mark what so ever in his skin.

 

“The closest I've ever come to tasting death, was…”, he began, removing the collar from around his neck; revealing the thin-scar, “…Was when I sliced my own head off; I was dead for only an hour or two, before my head reattached and I was pulled from the icy-grip of death…”, he explains.

 

Karin stares at him in horror at what has happened to him, “What did you do after that?”, she asks, her voice betraying her and making her horror auditable.

 

“I eventually gave up on trying to kill myself, and decided to hunt down the bastard who did this to me. I've followed rumors of where he could be hidden, and the latest one has led me back to this city…”, he says, “When I first arrived a year ago, I was homeless until I rescued the landlord's wife; when she was returning home from working late at the hospital, from a gang of vampires; pretty-much like the ones you were fighting, and as thanks her husband; Cid, gave me this apartment to rent, and Sherra is a nurse; she's been providing me the blood I'm drinking to save my sanity…”

 

“I see…”, Karin replies, watching him stand up and take the half-full bag of blood with him.

 

“Do you want a soda?”, he asks, trying to be hospitable.

 

“Uh…”, she utters, trying to make a decision, watching him go into the kitchen and go right past the fridge to the sink, and opens the cabinet underneath to reveal a mini-fridge; opening it and she could see bags of blood inside as he puts the bag he was carrying into the fridge among the other bags, `Good… He doesn't keep the blood in the same fridge as his food…', she sighs inside her head, “Sure, I'd like a soda…”, she answers.

 

Vincent walks over to his main-fridge, opening the door, “Is `Mountain Dew' alright?”, he questions, and Karin nods in reply.

 

He returns with two 20oz bottles in one hand and a large-plate of pot-sticklers in the other, “I'm sure you're hunger too…”, he says, putting the items he was carrying onto the coffee-table, “Sherra made them…”

 

“I'm famished…”, she states, holding her growling stomach with one hand and picks up a set of deposable-chopsticks in her other.

 

She lets him take the first piece, not because she still didn't trusting him but because he was her host.

 

“So who is the guy who cursed you?”, she asks, still chewing on the pot-stickler in her mouth.

 

“He's a 500 year old vampire named; Sephiroth…”, Vincent replies, trying to get used to talking about the thing he has been seeking to destroy, in fact talking about anything to another person; he hadn't even gone into as much detail with Cid and Sherra as he just did with Karin.

 

“500 years, huh? Mythril and silver are off the list of things to kill him with…”, Karin states, snagging another pot-stickler off the plate, “As they can only kill vampires 300 years old and under…”

 

“Only if I was stronger back then… I could have killed him, before he killed Lucrecia and did this to me…”, he loudly curses to himself.

 

“Who's Lucrecia?”

 

“She was the one before you to be the bearer of the Banpaia Ten-Ki, and my fiancée…”, he says, biting his bottom-lip; piercing it with his fang.

 

“I can see why you want to kill him, to avenge your fiancée and yourself”, she reasons, fighting the urge to hold and comfort him, “So what is there that can kill; or at least, irritate a vampire, besides mythril, silver, and decapitating them?”, she asks, changing the subject.

 

“Sunlight causes extremely painful burning; a major irritant, aloe vera; plant or essence smeared on the skin, can ward them off, they have no refection; making identifying one easier, and the only thing that can kill a vampire over 300 years old is…”, he begins.

 

“What…?”

 

“Your power of Banpaia Ten-Ki is the only thing that can kill a vampire over 300 years old…”, he says, looking right at her.

 

“You mean me?”, she asks, pointing to herself.

 

Vincent simply nods.

 

“You need my help in killing that fuck-tard?”

 

(A/N: Shorten-version of: Fucking bastard!)

 

“Yes, and the vampires will be seeking you out to kill you as well…”, he says.

 

“Well duh! That's why I hunt down the vampires on weekends, the less there are the less I have to worry about coming after me!”

 

“You're one strange woman, actually going out and looking for trouble…”, he sighs.

 

“When you've grown up with friends like mine, you tend to get gutsy!”, she replies, taking a swig of soda, “Besides, they're putting a strain on the population… They need to be stopped…”

 

`Her attitude is invigorating… Not a lot of people would volunteer to hunt down vampires on their free-time…', he thinks, watching Karin eat another two pot-sticklers at the same-time.

 

A knock on the door interrupts the meal between the two vampire-hunters.

 

“Who is it?”, Vincent asks, walking over to the door.

 

“It's Sherra, Vincent… Is your guest awake?”, came a woman's voice from the other-side of the door.

 

Vincent simply opens the door up for his landlady, “She's awake, Sherra…”, he answers, letting the woman walk in.

 

She had long light brown hair pulled up in a ponytail, warm brown eyes behind a pair of thin wire-framed glasses, and appeared to be in her mid-thirties.

 

“It's good to see you awake, dear. When Vincent came home carrying you in his arms, I thought he found a drunk College-student to take advantage of…”, Sherra says.

 

Vincent's cheeks instantly flare up in a dark blush at his landlady's comment, only to be followed by Karin's own blush.

 

“I wasn't drunk, I assure you… I had collapsed after being attacked by a gang of vampires…”, Karin states.

 

“I know, Vincent told me…”, Sherra cheerfully replies.

 

“Oh crap, I could I have forgotten my manners!”, the younger woman exclaims, standing up, “My name is Karin Hitodama”, she introduces, bowing.

 

“Sherra Highwind…”, Sherra greets, “My husband is Cid Highwind”.

 

Sherra glances over at Vincent, expecting him to introduce himself.

 

“Vincent has already introduced himself to me”, Karin explains, noticing the look Sherra was giving Vincent.

 

“Oh good, I'm glad he wasn't being rude…”, Sherra sighs, “Your uniform is a mess! I could wash it for you, if you want”

 

“That would be nice…”, Karin says, knowing it had to be too late at night to head home now, “But I have to go home to print off my report…”

 

“You mean the report you lost this morning?”, Vincent says, dropping the small pile of stapled papers into her lap, “You dropped these when you ran into me…”

 

She looks down at the papers, seeing that it was indeed her report, “Thank you…”, she mutters.

 

“You can stay here tonight, it's not safe for you to be alone at your house…”, he states.

 

“Thank you again…”, she says, stunned.

 

“I'll let you borrow a pair of my pajamas, while your uniform washes”, Sherra offers, leading the girl downstairs to her apartment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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