Nino flips another page, then exhales a frustrated sigh. He can’t hold it in any longer. “Haruka… can I ask you a question?”
Haruka pauses, guarded in his expression as he returns Nino’s gaze. “Yes?”
“Wouldn’t it have been more convenient to arrange this information by chronological order, and then by each couple’s bloodline rank?”
Haruka blinks. “What?”
Standing, Nino walks to meet him at his desk, book in hand. He lowers the manuscript to Haruka’s field of vision. “If I wanted to know data for all purebred couples—meaning a purebred mating with a purebred, versus a first-gen coupling or a third-gen coupling—it’d be impossible to tell with the way you have this set up. How can I know for certain if the success rate among first-gen couples is any better than between a first-gen and purebred couple? What if someone asked a question about a particular mated couple in a time span? It’d take forever to find them this way.”
In Nino’s analytical mind, it makes the most sense: organize the information in one overarching way, then another within it to create even more specific, streamlined results.
Haruka’s confused expression slowly morphs into one of indignation. When his eyebrow dramatically arches up his forehead, Nino instinctively takes a step back.
“Are you criticizing forty years’ worth of detailed work, organization and translation?” Haruka asks, his gaze steady and his deep voice eerily calm.
Nino opens his mouth, then shuts it. He moves toward the couch and tries again. “No, I was just… It was an observation.”
“Both my grandfather’s and father’s research were in Japanese, so I had the added task of translating it into English so that it could be understood by a larger audience if necessary. Ultimately, I decided not to have it reprinted due to the sensitive nature of the information. I apologize that it does not meet your organizational and analytical standards.”
Nino runs his palm down his face. Why am I so stupid? Hesitant, he looks up from beneath his lashes, wondering if Haruka might show him grace yet again. “Do you want me flogged and thrown in the dungeon?”
Haruka unexpectedly breathes a laugh as he shakes his head. “No. This offense would have you thrown in the stocks.”
Nino grins. “With raggedy peasants hurling tomatoes at my head?”
“Potatoes.”
“Ouch.”
“Your suggestion is valid.” Haruka draws his long body up from the desk, stretching his arms. “Albeit dilatory. Shall we break for lunch?”
“Sure. As long as there are no potatoes involved.”
Seven
Article II. Intimacy
In conjunction with consensual, mutual blood exchange through feeding, an act of sexual intimacy* is necessary to activate a vampiric bond. As noted in Article I, sexual intimacy cannot be violently forced in forming a bond, nor can it be achieved through non-consensual means.
*Section note: sexual intimacy is defined as intentional actions resulting in the release and exchange of bodily fluids, or the act of penetration in some unspecified form.
“You were right. This is starting to feel like voyeurism.” Nino rolls his shoulders. Day two at Haruka’s estate. Nino is sitting on the floor of the library, his legs comfortably folded against the carpet as he reads.
Haruka is standing at a nearby bookshelf, his back facing Nino as he searches for something. “Agreed. But keep in mind these individuals requested to have their bonds confirmed by purebreds. And the information is paramount. Bonding is a cardinal aspect of our culture, but it is typically steeped in ambiguity and conjecture. This book helps to cleanly decipher the process.”
“Absolutely, the research is impressive,” Nino agrees, but discreetly, he flips through as many pages as possible and toward the next section, only skimming as he turns. A minute later he stops and turns back. He reads through a couple’s entry.
“Holy shit—this couple bonded after feeding from each other for only two weeks?” Nino blinks up at Haruka, who is casually resting with his back against the bookcase, an open manuscript in his hands.
“Mm,” Haruka says. “As you read, you will find that those cases are rare. Bonding in general is a challenging task and choosing a mate is not absolute. There can be more than one vampire that is suitable for your individual nature. But there are undoubtedly some vampires whose inherent vitalities might prove more compatible than others.”
Nino turns the information over in his mind. “So intrinsically, this two-week couple was uniquely compatible? Their natures immediately clicked, like soulmates?”
Haruka scoffs, the sound abrupt in the quiet calm of the library. “That assessment is highly unlikely.”
“You don’t believe in soulmates?”
“I believe in making a thoughtful, intentional choice,” Haruka says. “Not being forced into something significant as a result of mystical, unseen ideals beyond my control.”
“So that’s a ‘no,’ I take it?” Nino wiggles his eyebrows. Haruka smirks as he swaggers toward his desk with his newly acquired book, his posture perfectly straight and tall. When they walk side by side, Nino notices they’re the same height—but Haruka’s body is leaner, as if he prefers swimming to Nino’s running (Haruka doesn’t exercise at all though. He hates it. Especially running. He told Nino that running should be strictly reserved for emergencies.).
Up close, Haruka has a tiny mole just off the bridge of his nose, underneath his eye. It stood out to Nino the first night they had dinner because it’s unusual for vampires to have any blemishes on their skin.
They’ve spent almost two full days together, talking and sharing opinions about every subject under the sun. Considering their objective though, Nino is beginning to feel like they’re ignoring the elephant in the room. It isn’t his business, but his curiosity is getting the better of him.
“Haruka, why aren’t you bonded? You’re especially high-bred and knowledgeable. You seem like the type to be properly mated with someone.”
“Do I?” he asks, taking his place behind the desk once more. Silence hangs in the air between them.
“Yeah, absolutely,” Nino finally says. “And you literally wrote the book on it.”
“The irony.” Haruka’s deep voice is flat. He resumes writing. When he says nothing more, Nino shrugs and looks back down at the manuscript. He knows when to quit—lest he be threatened with imaginary stocks, potatoes and dungeons.
A moment later, Haruka speaks. “Why are you unbonded, Nino?”
He meets his gaze. Nino thinks for a moment, because in truth, he never really has. Not in any sincere depth, anyway. In his mind, bonding feels like something far away… like squinting across the turquoise expanse of the ocean to catch the spout of a whale or the tail of a dolphin. He recognizes it as something incredibly special, but well beyond his scope.
“I’m not ready,” he says honestly. Nino doesn’t know why he always makes these naked, awkward confessions to this vampire he hardly knows. It’s probably a sign that he’s lacking in something: friends, proper social skills. A hobby. “And I haven’t met anyone that I would want to be with like that, and that would want to be with me.”
