For as long as Tomoya can remember, he has lived in a cage.

It was a cruel fate to be born into the Eclipse Order, a vampiric criminal syndicate that ruled Japan's underworld with an iron fist—and even sharper fangs. Tomoya was born a bastard; his mother was a werewolf, marked by thick swathes of unruly black hair, dark piercing eyes, and jagged fingernails. Masanori, the leader of the Eclipse Order and Tomoya's father, had little regard for conventional beauty. He was bewitched by her savage nature and thus stole her away in the dead of night to make her his concubine.

Tomoya was born half werewolf, half vampire. The first in the family of eleven sons and daughters. They hated Tomoya with a burning and vehement passion.

"Bastard."

"Trash."

"Mutt."

Tomoya was too young to understand what any of those words meant, he swallowed their hatred the way he swallowed raw meat and deer blood. And up until he was thirteen, he lived relatively well. The estate of the Eclipse Order lay tucked deep into the mountains in Hakone. It drowned the blue sky, perpetually existing in a smog of black mist. Two ornate shachihoko sculptures grinned at Tomoya whenever he traipsed into the mansion. Sometimes he stared down at their glassy hollow eyes, and they stared back at him.

If his siblings were not tormenting him they ignored him, all except the oldest, Akihiro, who said not a word to him, but watched him carefully, always placed beside his Father's side like an extra limb. Tomoya vaguely knew his family were involved in shady dealings, he wasn't allowed to go to school or consort with the wary villagers. But he didn't mind. They had a large sprawling library, where Tomoya would grab books about dark and twisted fairytales, race into the forest backing the estate and read on top of trees, under bushes, beneath rippling streams and at night when the moon was full and gorgeous.

Strangely enough he thought that he liked his life at times. He could wake up whenever he wanted. The family's hunters always bought back buckets of raw fleshy meat so he could feast to his heart's content. Because his siblings did not care for him, he could race into the forest and lay underneath the earth and stars until the sun began to rise. Tomoya lived in a dream.

One day, when he was thirteen, he woke up early for once. His room was small and dark, but his futon was thick and fluffy and very comfortable. A white sheen rose through the windows and illuminated his young frame. Tomoya stood up, rubbing his eyes. At times he missed his mother, Masanori's other wives and concubines were like revolving doors, appearing and disappearing like the wind, they had dark sultry makeup and long fangs, brightly coloured expensive kimonos and elaborate hairstyles. His mother dressed plainly in a simple navy kimono, she wore no makeup, she did not cut her fingernails. Tomoya loved her like he loved books, the moon and the endless forest. He did not know whether she loved him back, he did not care.

That day he was filled with the relentless urge to find her. Posted outside of his door was his guard draped in armour, Kurogane. Tomoya's father was adamant that each of his children were to be given protection. "Kurogane!" Tomoya bowed. "I want to see Mama."

Kurogane was a man of few words, Tomoya suspected he shared the same disgust at Tomoya being a mixed species. The other day when Tomoya was almost attacked by a bear, Kurogane was slow to pull out his sword, Tomoya spied the hesitation in his brow, the trembling of his calloused fingers.

Still he nodded and followed behind Tomoya. They weaved their way up the wooden steps, down the hallways until Tomoya reached his mother's room. He knocked on the door three times and heard no answer.

"Mama?" Tomoya pushed open the door.

His mother was draped across the bed, her dark dusty hair fanned across the pillow in clumps. On top of her was a large hulk of a man, his head was shaved, his body dusted in coiled hair. He kissed his mother on the lips, suckling and biting at her, his mother sighed.

"Mama? What is going on?"

Kurogane drew his sword. "Ayako. How could you?"

His mother shrieked. She flung herself from the bed, pulling her robes around her. "Please Kurogane." She dropped to her knees, clasped her fingers together and begged. "I beg you please don't say anything."

"It's too late." Kurogane dragged Tomoya's mother and her scorned lover to the central courtyard. The rest of his siblings stood accompanied by the maids, hunters and guards. Tomoya's Father stood at the center, a large ornate sword clutched in his heavy hands. His face was lined and crinkled. It was highly uncommon for vampires to have wizened appearances, but Tomoya thought this was another of those situations were secrets were kept from him.

His mother was crying, shaking, on her knees. Her lover said nothing, he stared at the ground in resolution, resigned to his fate. Tomoya watched in horrified confusion. Suddenly he felt a heavy hand press into his shoulder. He turned to find Akihiro staring him down with a grim look.

"Watch closely." He whispered into Tomoya's ear.

Akihiro was tall, even taller than their Father, his hair was cropped close and short, the colour of moonflower, his eyes glassy and colourless. Tomoya did not know his age. He crept closer to him seeking his warmth, but found Akihiro was as cold as a tundra night. Akihiro stepped closer anyway, drawing Tomoya into him. "Are you watching?"

Tomoya nodded. He found he was shaking.

"AYAKO!" Tomoya's father boomed. He wielded the blade into the misty sky. His eyes scanned the sprawling surroundings. "I will forgive you. If you kill that wretch with this sword." He pointed the sword at Ayako's face.

She shook her head, tears streaming and cascading down her cheeks. "NEVER!"

"You slight me?" A hard rumble of laughter tumbled out of his Father's lips. Tomoya trembled, Akihiro held him tighter.

His mother tilted her face up. The wind whipped around them, unrelentless, chilling, brutal. "You stole me Masanori. I was never, ever yours. That wretch is my husband!" She stood then, drawing herself close to Tomoya's father, her feet crunching on the gravel. "It wasn't enough for you to take me, but you took my twin daughters and you killed them. I will never belong to you. I hate you."

"Surely you must know what this means?" Masanori had a disgusted look on his face. "What of your son?"

"He is not my son."

Tomoya felt something in his heart break. His life was held together with a steadfast delusion. Something bubbled within him, something vicious and unruly. All the times his mother refused to look at him, to hug him, to talk with him burned through his mind like a highlight reel. He had always brushed away every encounter, Tomoya's love was enough for them both.

Masanori raised the blade once more and drove it through the heart of Ayako's lover. Blood dripped out of his lips, it stained his robes like a rose. Masanori dug the blade out and pointed it's hilt to Ayako's throat. Hot heavy tears shot out like pellets. She wailed.

"Last chance." Sharp fangs emerged from Masanori's teeth. He dropped the sword.

"Ayako," Masanori's voice was low, heavy with an unrelenting yearning, as though the words were clawing their way out of him. His gaze was fixed on her, burning with desire and obsession. "I love you. It's the reason I brought you here—to the Eclipse Order. I pulled you from the shadows of your life, gave you a place in this world. And what has he given you? That wretch, that fool—he can never offer you what I can. He cannot give you the life you were meant to have."

He stepped forward, his words thick with possessive heat, his presence looming like a storm. "With me, you will never know hunger. You will never know want. Every gold coin, every jewel, every fortune this earth has to offer will be yours, Ayako. I will give it all to you, because you are mine."

His voice softened, the passion of his declaration turning into something darker. "I will cast aside every wife, every concubine for you. They are nothing to me. Only you. If your son does not fill your heart with love, then let me fill it—irrevocably. I will give you daughters, ones who will never question their place in this world, ones who will be mine, just as you are."

He took another step forward, his eyes gleaming with both hunger and promise. "Come back to me, Ayako. I will make you a queen in this world. I will make you mine."

"Fuck you." Tomoya's mother spat in his face.

Masanori's body filled with a dangerous rage. Tomoya watched as his pale skin turned crimson, his fangs grew sharper and he bit into her neck. His mother writhed in his embrace. He bit harder, thick streams of blood dripping down his mother's neck until her eyes bulged, her skin grew grey and her body became limp in his arms.

Tomoya dropped to his knees and screamed. He screamed until his throat was raw and aching, until his siblings, whose faces were indifferent waltzed out of the courtyard with leers on their faces and grins on their lips. Until his Father mounted his bold, black horse and told the maids, and butlers and hunters that he was going on a trip and would not be back "for a while". Akihiro stayed by his side, holding onto Tomoya's lithe frame. Finally, the screaming subsided from his throat. He hadn't noticed when his mother's body was removed, or her lover. He curled into Akihiro's chest shuddering.

"Did you watch?" His voice was cruel and quiet, it peppered over Tomoya's dark straight hair like a thorny caress. "Did you see Father take her life? As if it meant nothing to him." His voice grew darker. "He did the same to my mother. His very first wife. Said he loved her, even though she had a strange albino vampire child. He took us both in. When he grew bored of her he killed her, just like how he killed your mother." Akihiro's fangs shot out of his mouth, gleaming white. He ghosted them on Tomoya's neck. "Just like this-" He pressed lightly into his pale, sweaty skin. Tomoya felt a bead of blood trickle down his neck. "And he keeps on pushing until his venom enters your bloodstream, until all you can feel is poison corroding your heart." Akihiro's fangs sunk in deeper. "Do you want me to?" His voice was cracked, sallowed with grief. "Do you want me to kill you?"

"No." Tomoya breathed, but he did not move. He felt strangely safe in Akihiro's arms.

Akihiro's fangs slowly dug out of Tomoya's skin. Tomoya watched as they shot back up into his teeth. His white eyelashes gleamed down at him. He looked ethereal. "Do you hate him?"

"Y-y-yes." Tomoya stuttered.

"Good."

Tomoya didn't understand it at the time, but Akihiro would become more than just the obedient shadow at their father's side, a silent, unwavering fixture that clung to his father like a parasite. He would be his older brother — not by blood, but by a bond forged in anguish and twisted affection. His tormentor. His protector. His angel.

*****

A week later, Tomoya transformed.

The forest stretched wide and ancient around them, its mist curling like ghostly tendrils around the trunks of towering cedar trees. Akihiro had become accustomed to taking Tomoya on silent walks through the forest, the only sound the crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional snap of a twig. These moments were the closest thing to peace Tomoya had found since his mother's death.

He trailed behind Akihiro, watching ants navigate over uneven patches of moss, feeling the crisp breeze nip at his cheeks. Then, without warning, a grotesque sensation surged through his body.

It began as a prickling heat in his chest, spreading quickly to his limbs. His muscles convulsed as if rebelling against his very existence. A deep, guttural growl tore from his throat, and he collapsed to his knees.

"Akihiro!" Tomoya gasped, clutching at the earth. His fingers dug into the dirt, his nails splitting and growing into claws. His bones crackled and twisted, reshaping themselves with horrifying precision. His spine arched violently, vertebrae snapping into a new, elongated form. A hot, piercing pain spread across his face as his jaw pushed forward, his teeth sharpening into cruel fangs.

Akihiro turned, his pale eyes gleaming with intrigue. He did not move to help.

Tomoya's vision blurred as his body burned, his human form giving way to something monstrous. His once-slender frame grew bulky, rippling with lean muscle. Fur as dark as the void erupted from his skin, coating his body. His hands and feet were no longer his own—they were massive paws tipped with razor-sharp claws.

When the pain subsided, Tomoya stood on all fours, panting heavily. He felt the damp earth under his paws, the scent of pine and rain filling his keen nostrils. The forest was alive in a way he had never experienced before—he could hear every rustle, smell every leaf, sense every quivering heartbeat.

Akihiro approached him, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he reached out and stroked Tomoya's gleaming black fur.

"Magnificent," Akihiro murmured, his voice low, almost reverent. His fingers moved deliberately, tracing the powerful muscles beneath Tomoya's coat. "Do you feel it? The freedom?"

Tomoya did not respond with words—he could not. He let out a low growl, but it was not one of anger. It was raw, primal contentment.

With a sharp command from Akihiro, Tomoya bolted into the woods. The wind whipped past him as he ran, his powerful legs propelling him faster than he'd ever moved before. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the crushing weight of grief lifted from his chest. He felt alive, untethered, and free.

They spent hours in the forest. Tomoya, reduced to his barest instincts, hunted small creatures at Akihiro's bidding. Akihiro, with a twisted sort of affection, rewarded him, feeding him the raw meat he caught. As night fell, the two of them sat beneath a towering cedar tree. Tomoya curled into Akihiro's lap, his massive body surprisingly gentle as Akihiro absently stroked his fur.

"You are mine now," Akihiro whispered, his voice soft yet possessive.

When they returned to the estate, chaos erupted.

Tomoya padded through the front gates, his gleaming black coat still streaked with the blood of his hunt. The other siblings screamed, their once-indifferent faces twisting with terror. The maids fled, clutching their aprons to their mouths as though suppressing cries.

Masanori stood at the top of the grand staircase, his figure framed by the flickering glow of lanterns. His expression was one of utter revulsion.

"What is this abomination?" he snarled, pointing a trembling finger at Tomoya. "What kind of cursed creature have you become?"

Tomoya froze, his golden eyes wide with confusion.

"You dare bring this shame to my house?" Masanori spat, his voice cold and sharp as the blade he often wielded. "You are no son of mine. You're filth—a beast. A mongrel born of sin."

Tomoya whimpered, the words cutting deeper than any wound. He looked to Akihiro, who stood silently behind him, his face impassive.

"LOCK HIM UP!" Masanori roared. "THROW HIM IN A CAGE WHERE HE BELONGS!"

The guards hesitated for a moment, their eyes flickering to Akihiro, who gave a slight nod. They approached Tomoya cautiously, chains in hand.

The basement was a cold, dark labyrinth of stone. They dragged Tomoya down steep steps slick with moisture, his claws scraping against the ground. In the deepest corner of the basement was his cage—a monstrous contraption of rusted iron bars, its edges jagged and cruel. The floor was nothing more than hard-packed dirt, damp and unyielding. A single, flickering lantern cast long shadows that danced like specters across the walls.

The guards shoved Tomoya inside, slamming the heavy door shut. The clang of the lock echoed through the chamber, final and unforgiving.

Tomoya slumped to the ground, his body trembling as the enormity of what had happened crashed over him. The freedom he had felt in the forest was a distant memory, replaced by the cold, suffocating weight of his cage.

Above him, Akihiro stood just beyond the bars, his pale eyes gleaming.

"I'll get you out of here. Just be patient." Akihiro's voice was a quiet knife, cutting through the silence.

Tomoya didn't answer. He curled into himself, his massive frame shuddering in the dim light.

He wasn't sure how to return to his human form, he didn't know if he wanted to.

A few weeks had passed in suffocating darkness. The basement air was thick with dampness, the kind that clung to the skin and seeped into his bones. Tomoya had grown accustomed to the cold iron bars, the dirt floor, and the flickering light of the single lantern that barely cut through the gloom. The loneliness gnawed at him, but he endured it in silence, his massive wolf form curled in the far corner of the cage.

The sound of approaching footsteps jarred him from his half-sleep. The cadence was familiar—graceful, deliberate, and unhurried. Akihiro.

Tomoya's ears perked up, his golden eyes glowing faintly in the dim light as Akihiro appeared before the cage. He looked different. His pale hair, usually cropped close, had grown out and now curled slightly at the edges, brushing against his light eyebrows. His long, elegant limbs moved with an almost ethereal fluidity as he unlatched the cage door.

Akihiro knelt just inside, his expression calm but intent. "I have a job for you," he said softly, his voice like silk slipping over steel. He extended a hand toward Tomoya, brushing his fingers lightly against his snout. The touch was unexpectedly tender. "We're going to Tokyo."

Tomoya let out a low, questioning growl, his head tilting slightly.

"But," Akihiro continued, his tone softening, "you have to transform back into a human. Can you do that for me?"

Tomoya's body tensed, his tail curling slightly beneath him. He looked down at his large, clawed paws and back to Akihiro, who had climbed fully into the cage. Akihiro's long coat billowed slightly as he crouched low, his arms outstretched. His pale face was framed by his curling hair, and his cold, sharp gaze was tempered with something almost gentle.

Akihiro leaned closer, wrapping his arms around Tomoya's massive frame. "Come back to me," he whispered against Tomoya's fur. "I'll help you. I'll hold you."

Tomoya shuddered, a low whimper escaping him as he leaned into Akihiro's touch. The command was simple, but the task was monumental. He hadn't shifted back since that night in the forest, and his wolf form had become both a comfort and a prison.

He closed his eyes and reached deep within himself, searching for the remnants of his human body. The process began slowly, an agonizing reversal of the transformation that had once felt so freeing.

The first crack of shifting bones echoed through the cage. Pain radiated through his limbs as they shortened and twisted, his claws retracting into blunt human nails. His fur retracted in patches, leaving his raw, pink skin exposed to the biting cold.

A strangled growl tore from his throat, morphing into a human cry. His elongated snout pulled back into his face, his sharp fangs receding into dull human teeth. He felt every joint, every muscle, fighting against the change, as if his body were at war with itself.

Akihiro tightened his hold, his arms steadying Tomoya as his body trembled uncontrollably.

"Good," Akihiro murmured, his lips close to Tomoya's ear. "You're almost there."

Finally, with one last agonizing crack, Tomoya collapsed against Akihiro's chest, his human form fully restored. His pale, trembling body was slick with sweat, his ribs jutting out with each labored breath. His black hair clung to his damp forehead, and his eyes—now their soft brown—were wide with exhaustion and pain.

Akihiro held him tightly, his cool hands brushing against Tomoya's clammy skin. He wrapped his coat around him, his movements deliberate and unhurried. Tomoya could feel Akihiro's breath against his temple, steady and calm, a stark contrast to his own ragged gasps.

"You did well," Akihiro whispered, his voice low and soothing. "I'm proud of you."

Tomoya leaned into the embrace, his body still trembling. The cage that had once felt so small now seemed enormous and empty around them. For a moment, neither of them moved, the only sound the faint dripping of water from the stone ceiling.

Akihiro's pale fingers combed gently through Tomoya's damp hair. "You're cold," he murmured. He pulled Tomoya closer, his hands resting on his back, pressing his trembling body against his own steady warmth.

Tomoya buried his face in Akihiro's shoulder, his voice barely a whisper. "What's in Tokyo?"

Akihiro didn't answer immediately. He tilted Tomoya's face upward, his pale eyes searching his younger brother's. "A task," he said finally. His tone was quiet but resolute, carrying a weight that Tomoya couldn't yet understand.

"We'll find you clothes," Akihiro continued, his hands moving to cradle Tomoya's face. "And then we leave tonight. Together."

Tomoya nodded weakly, too drained to argue, too grateful to care. For the first time in weeks, he felt the faint stirrings of hope—fragile, fleeting, but undeniable.

As Akihiro helped him to his feet, guiding him carefully out of the cage, Tomoya glanced back at the iron bars that had confined him. A chill ran through him, but he didn't look back again.

They left at night in a horse drawn carriage. The moon hung high above, casting its pale glow over the Japanese countryside. Shadows stretched long and thin over the rice paddies, and the occasional flicker of a lantern from a distant home painted an almost ethereal scene. The air was cool, carrying with it the scent of dew-laden grass and the faintest hint of smoke from village fires.

Inside the carriage, Tomoya sat awkwardly, draped in Akihiro's clothes. The thick dark blue robes were slightly oversized, their folds heavy against his slight frame. Around his neck, Akihiro had tied a gleaming blue pendant, the gemstone catching the dim light whenever it swayed against his chest.

Akihiro sat across from him, his arms folded, his pale eyes unblinking as they stared out the small window. The flickering lantern inside the carriage danced across his sharp features, lending him an otherworldly appearance.

It was four hours before the carriage finally slowed. Tomoya peered out, his eyes widening as the bustling outskirts of Tokyo unfolded before him. Lanterns lined the narrow streets, their golden glow illuminating vendors calling out wares, their stalls laden with vibrant fabrics, ripe fruits, and delicate ceramics. The clack of geta sandals on stone mingled with the occasional clatter of a wooden cart. Men and women dressed in glorious silks and cotton, their kimonos adorned with intricate patterns, moved in small groups, their chatter muffled by the night. Children darted between the adults, chasing each other in games of laughter and shrieks.

The city felt alive, vibrant, yet underneath the beauty, there was an undercurrent of tension that Tomoya couldn't quite place.

Akihiro stepped out of the carriage first, extending a hand to help Tomoya down. Without a word, he led him through the crowded streets, his hand gripping Tomoya's firmly as they weaved between people and stalls. The air grew thicker as they moved deeper into the city, the once-open streets narrowing into dimly lit alleyways. The sound of rats scurrying over cobblestones replaced the earlier bustle, and the air carried the acrid smell of rotting food and stagnant water.

Finally, they turned a corner into a particularly dark alley. Tomoya's heart thudded in his chest as Akihiro slowed to a stop. A figure was slumped against the damp wall, his hands tied in front of him with thick, frayed ropes.

The man's hair was messy, his dark locks tangled and windswept. His clothes were tattered, and his face was drawn with exhaustion. He looked up at their approach, his eyes wide with fear as he took in Akihiro's imposing figure and Tomoya's hesitant form.

"What's happening?" Tomoya's voice trembled as he instinctively grabbed a handful of Akihiro's robe.

Akihiro glanced down at him, his expression unreadable. "It's your task," he said calmly. "This is why we came here."

Tomoya shook his head, taking a step back. "I don't understand."

"You completely understand," Akihiro said, his voice soft but unrelenting. His hand reached out, brushing Tomoya's black hair away from his face. "Tomoya, I care for you very much. Everything I'm doing is for you—and to take down our father." His pale fingers traced the edge of Tomoya's pendant before his hand dropped to his side. "But I need to know you're with me. If you're too scared, you can go back to the carriage. Back to the cage in Hakone."

Akihiro's hand hung in the air between them, a bridge waiting to be crossed. "Or you can do this with me."

Tomoya's throat tightened as he looked from Akihiro to the man slumped against the wall. The man's lips trembled as he began to beg.

"Mio," Akihiro said suddenly, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. A cruel grin curled his lips. "It's time."

The man—Mio—shook his head violently, his voice cracking as he pleaded. "I have daughters, a wife. Please don't do this. Please."

Akihiro tilted his head, his grin fading into something almost melancholic. "I'm sorry it had to come to this."

The words hung in the air, and Tomoya felt a dark certainty settle in his chest. He knew what Akihiro wanted. Deep down, he had known the moment he saw the man bound and helpless.

The pendant around his neck grew heavier, a suffocating weight. Akihiro's voice was suddenly at his ear, low and coaxing. "Transform," he whispered.

Tomoya's body trembled as he closed his eyes, letting the wolf rise within him. His skin burned as fur sprouted over his arms and legs, his muscles twisting and elongating. Pain crackled through his bones, but the agony was fleeting. In moments, the wolf had overtaken him, its primal instincts dulling the human grief that had clung to him for weeks.

Akihiro's hand slid down Tomoya's furred back, his touch almost reverent. "Good," he murmured. "Very good."

Tomoya's golden eyes gleamed in the dim light as he turned to Akihiro, his breathing deep and animalistic.

"Kill him," Akihiro whispered, his lips brushing against Tomoya's ear.

Tomoya hesitated for only a moment before lunging. His claws tore through Mio's clothing, his teeth sinking into the man's flesh. Mio screamed, the sound echoing briefly before being choked off. Blood splattered against the stone walls, dark and viscous, as Tomoya ripped and tore with abandon.

When it was done, Tomoya stood over the lifeless body, his sides heaving. The coppery taste of blood coated his tongue, and his golden eyes flicked to Akihiro.

Akihiro stepped forward, placing a hand on Tomoya's furred head. "You've done well," he said softly, his smile both proud and cruel.

Tomoya licked the blood from his muzzle, his wolfish form trembling as Akihiro's touch lingered. The alleyway was silent except for the soft rustle of rats weaving through the carnage.

"We're one step closer," Akihiro said, his voice calm. "Let's go home."

Home was an apartment tucked away in a quieter corner of bustling Tokyo, atop a narrow building with an apothecary on the ground floor. The shop below exuded an air of mystery, its shelves lined with glass jars holding dried herbs, mysterious powders, and potions in shades of emerald and crimson. The faint, earthy scent of medicinal roots and incense drifted upward, mingling with the cooler night breeze.

Their home at the very top of the building was a startling contrast to the humble apothecary below. The apartment was lavishly adorned with luxurious furnishings and carefully curated decor. Silk wall hangings in vibrant hues of gold and deep red framed the space, while intricate calligraphy scrolls detailed poems and proverbs that seemed to hum with power. Large, ornately painted portraits of women with ethereal beauty—pale skin, dark eyes, and intricate hairstyles—hung on the walls, their painted gazes following anyone who entered. The polished wooden floors were softened by handwoven rugs, their patterns intricate and mesmerizing.

They sat together in the small but finely crafted kitchen, where lacquered cabinets gleamed under the soft glow of a single lantern. A maid, dressed in a crisp white apron over her pale blue kimono, entered with graceful steps, carrying two steaming bowls of yakisoba and a teapot of sweet ginger tea. She placed the food before them with a slight bow before retreating silently.

Tomoya relished the first bite of noodles, savoring the mix of savory soy sauce and sweet vegetables. The tea's warmth spread through him, soothing the edges of his nerves. It was a rare moment of peace.

Akihiro broke the silence, his tone measured yet heavy with meaning. "Tomoya," he said, setting his chopsticks down with care, "I need you to take down Father."

Tomoya froze, mid-sip of tea, as Akihiro continued, his pale eyes locking onto him. "I want to take control of the Eclipse Order. I'm gathering the manpower I need to succeed. I don't just want to kill Father; I want to take his empire from him." His voice sharpened, the weight of his ambition palpable. "Are you with me?"

Tomoya hesitated for a moment, his fingers tightening around the teacup. He wasn't sure how to respond. What else could he do? The cage in Hakone was a vivid memory, a nightmare he couldn't forget. Anything was better than that.

"I'm with you," he said softly, his voice lacking the conviction he thought Akihiro wanted. Then, with a glimmer of hope, he added, "Is there a forest I can run in?"

Akihiro's expression softened into a rare smile. "Plenty," he said. "I'll take you to them, whenever you want."

For Tomoya, those first few months in Tokyo were like a dream. He ate more than he had ever imagined possible, indulging in bowls of hot ramen, grilled skewers of yakitori dripping with sauce, savory okonomiyaki stuffed with seafood, and endless plates of sushi that practically melted on his tongue. Sweet treats like mochi and taiyaki filled his evenings, and rich cups of matcha grounded his mornings.

Beyond the food, there were the people. Beautiful fairies with sparkling kimonos and long, fluttering lashes charmed him in tea houses and moonlit festivals. They flirted with their soft, musical voices, brushing against him as they laughed. For the first time in a long time, he felt alive.

But that joy was fleeting. The killing loomed over him like a shadow. Without warning, Akihiro would call his name, his voice carrying an unspoken command. In those moments, Tomoya's humanity dissolved. The wolf would rise, and he would tear through human flesh and bone as though they were made of paper. The blood always haunted him—metallic on his tongue, seeping into his dreams. He would wake in a sweat, the phantom screams of his victims ringing in his ears.

Years passed in a haze of conflicting emotions. At sixteen, at eighteen, at twenty-two, the taste of blood lingered even when he bit into harmless noodles. The guilt etched itself deeper into his soul with each kill, each life snuffed out by his claws. Yet Akihiro was always there, his touch tender, his presence commanding. Tomoya loved him deeply, irrevocably. But Akihiro scared him, too.

Akihiro's possessiveness was like a cage of its own. He watched over Tomoya with hawk-like intensity, always knowing where he went, who he spoke to, and how long he was gone. When Tomoya stayed out too late one night—his head spinning with alcohol, his laughter echoing in a gambling den filled with courtesans and gamblers—Akihiro came for him.

The doors to the den burst open, and the revelry screeched to a halt. Akihiro stood in the doorway, his eyes blazing with fury, his fangs gleaming in the dim light. Without hesitation, he descended on the room, draining the life from every courtesan and gambler in his path. Blood painted the walls, the air thick with the metallic scent of death.

Tomoya watched, frozen in terror and guilt, as Akihiro wiped the blood from his mouth with a chilling calm. "You belong to me," Akihiro said, his voice soft but unyielding. "You come home when I tell you to. Don't ever forget that."

Tomoya was trapped in a vicious cycle—one of love, fear, and bloodshed. No matter how far he tried to run, he always found himself back in Akihiro's grasp. And though he longed for freedom, there was a part of him that couldn't imagine a life without his brother's shadow looming over him.

******

The air in the apartment was thick with the cloying scent of herbs and bitter medicines. Tomoya lay sprawled on the futon, the thin mat beneath him barely cushioning his aching frame. The apothecary below had been generous with their tinctures and powders—Akihiro always made sure his money flowed like water—but they dulled little more than the sharpest edge of his restlessness. His body was here, but his mind roamed like a shadow slipping through cracks.

Akihiro had been gone for weeks. Retreating to Hakone, Tomoya imagined, to sit at their father's feet, to whisper conspiracies with a face as serene as carved stone. Tomoya had once asked him what Masanori thought of his absence.

"I told him you were dead," Akihiro had said without a trace of emotion, as though recounting the weather.

Now, Tomoya shook off the memory and reached for the piece of parchment lying on the low wooden table. It bore a single word, written in bold, unfamiliar strokes: Asakusa.

The name stirred something in him—memories of crowded marketplaces, the scent of incense curling in the air, and the constant buzz of human life. He folded the paper carefully, tucked it into his robes, and set out into the night.

The streets of Tokyo were alive in their own quiet way. Lanterns swayed in the breeze, their orange glow spilling over tiled roofs and casting long, trembling shadows on the ground. Tomoya trudged along, his eyes heavy with the weight of sleepless nights. His robes, borrowed from Akihiro's ample collection, hung loosely on his lithe frame. He felt like a ghost haunting the edges of a city he no longer belonged to.

When he reached Asakusa, the streets were eerily empty. The air was thick, the mist clinging to his skin like a damp veil. For a long moment, nothing stirred.

Then, a shadow descended.

The man landed with the grace of a bird, his long coat billowing like wings. But it was his actual wings that made Tomoya freeze. They were wide and dark, sweeping arcs that seemed to drink in the light. The man straightened, revealing Western features—pale skin, sharp cheekbones, and eyes the color of cold steel. British, perhaps, or American. His hair, black and unruly, framed his mocking smile as he gave Tomoya a theatrical bow.

"You came!" he said, his voice rich with amusement.

Tomoya instinctively stepped back. "What do you want?" His voice was hoarse, the remnants of restless nights and reluctant screams. "Am I to kill you?"

The man raised a hand, his smile widening. "Oh, please don't do that. I think you're rather remarkable, Tomoya."

Tomoya stiffened at the casual familiarity. "Who are you?"

The man spread his arms, wings unfurling slightly as he spoke. "Rupert Lowe, at your service. And I come with a proposition—a rather exciting one, if I may say so." He stepped closer, his boots clicking softly on the stone. "What do you think about joining the Aetherwing Brigade?"

The name was like a jolt through Tomoya's fogged mind. The Aetherwing Brigade. The elite military organisation that flew steampowered airships, their influence spreading across continents like wildfire. He'd heard of them in whispers and tavern tales—daring missions, unthinkable technology, a life that promised escape from anything and everything.

But not this. Not him.

"I can't," Tomoya stuttered, his voice faltering. "Akihiro would come for me."

Rupert tilted his head, his sharp grin curling further at the edges. "Akihiro, yes. The doting, obsessive brother. Always watching, always pulling the strings." His voice dripped with mockery. "But here's the thing, Tomoya. Do you know what happens to a puppet when the strings are cut?"

Tomoya stared at him, his heart thundering in his chest.

Rupert stepped closer, his steel-gray eyes locking with Tomoya's. "It doesn't collapse. It learns how to stand."

With a flourish of his wings, Rupert leapt into the air, the sound of his laughter trailing behind him as he disappeared into the night.

Tomoya stood there, the empty street suddenly feeling impossibly vast. His hands trembled as he clenched them into fists. For the first time in a long while, the cage Akihiro had built around him felt unbearably small. Could he ever dare to break free?