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Colour Me Blood Red	By : DragonBlade Category: Prince of Tennis/Tennis no Ohjisama > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 2324 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own prince of tennis, characters or ideas, and I am making no money from this

Chapter List
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(Oh my god wall of text! Curse you formatting!)

Oh my God I suck at Summaries, I'm so sorry. This is what happens when I read Laurell K. Hamilton while on a Prince of Tennis kick. I always said I'd never write fanfiction outside of the show (like, I'd never write Prince of Tennis without the tennis) ...but, fucking Anite Blake reminded me so much of Akaya that I couldn't help it! I started getting all these ideas and I told YuukiSan about it and so SHE wanted to write a Vampire fic ...so I HAD to write mine ...vicious cycle. Since this is a fanfic, I decided to just use all the vampire fiction I've heard, not necessarily the stuff I believe (don't worry, no one goes out into the sunlight and sparkles, I don't bastardize good lore THAT badly.) So this has elements of Laurell K. Hamilton, Hellsing (the anime), actual "fact", and a bunch of random stuff I made up for the story. I can't say which pairings are in the story, cause honestly, there are too many. I started a list years ago of all the crack pairings in Prince of Tennis, so I'm using this story as a chance to write about as many as possible. I'd have to create a chart to cover all the pairings I plan on writing. I also might need to add more warnings, cause the story isn't even CLOSE to being finished so I don't know everything I'm putting in it yet. The more Anita Blake I read the more ideas I get. Sigh

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CHAPTER 1

Vampires.

To the average person it is a myth, a legend, something Hollywood took and ran with.

Kirihara Akaya knew differently. He was one of many people who knew that the dark was actually something to be afraid of. Monsters walked amongst people - some knew, some refused to acknowledge. Unsolved murders, strange accidents; passed off as insane people on a rampage, or simply chalked up to a chaos theory. They say ignorance is bliss.

Reality was much harder to cope with.

Kirihara flipped up the collar of his jacket, blocking him a little better from the cold wind.

Sometimes reality had a funny way of slapping you in the face. He still remembered that night, it was a night similar to this one – cold, a slight drizzle in the air, the moon shrouded by grey clouds. They had come in through the back door, kicking it in. They hunted down his father first, being the biggest of the family. They knocked him to the ground laughing, his screams echoing through the hall to his small bedroom. His mother had rushed in, pulling him from his bed. He was six at the time. His mother’s eyes were wide in terror - they were trapped. They came up the stairs next, looking for them. His mother stood before him as they threw open his door, still laughing. They raped her, and then tore her limb from limb. He watched.

His mother had begged them to spare his life, and they did.

The police had said it was a home invasion gone wrong. He knew different.

They stole nothing, they didn’t even try. They went straight for his family - murdered them one after the other.

Vampires.

He remembered their fangs, watching them drink the blood from his mothers dismembered body.

He learned that day that the stories he heard in movies were true, they were all true.

He never forgot, and for seventeen years the images burned in his mind. Revenge, revenge on the creatures that took his family. But that was too cliché.

He was going to wipe out the entire fucking breed.

Unfortunately, reality had a funny way of slapping you in the face.

Kirihara checked his phone, the text had said 1349 Way street …and here he was. It didn’t look like much of a nest; maybe the zombies were getting smarter?

Zombie - the derogatory term for a re-animated vampire. When a Fledgling vampire attempted to make another it created, instead, something far worse. It created a being bent solely on feeding; it was more like an animal than a vampire. It was a re-animated corpse that neither rotted nor aged. Instead of retaining a life-like appearance like a normal vampire, its skin turned grey and sunken, hair became like straw and nails rotted off. Re-animated carried the stench of decomposition and death, even if their bodies never showed either. It still retained the need to shelter itself, to hide from the sun, and to feed. The creatures felt fear, much the same way a household pet would. They would group together in mornings, huddled together in a sort of perverse kitten pile. And then at night, they would wander out, sometimes simply wandering the outskirts of town, sometimes wandering directly into the civilized areas. Luckily, people just thought they were crazed homeless people, avoiding them. If the re-animated weren’t provoked, they usually didn’t attack; most saw humans and fled in fear. When hunger overcame them though, not even a roaring fire could stop them.

The re-animated were rare, Fledglings rarely attempted to create their own flock under the noses of their masters. Recently, for some reason, they were appearing faster than the Hunters could take them out.

Instead of going after vampires, Kirihara found himself on the clean-up crew - vampires usually being the ones that employed him. No one wanted a rogue re-animated wandering around, least of all the vampires – their precious secrets threatened every time a re-animated attacked.

Checking his gun, Kirihara clicked off the safety and cocked it; he was here to do a job. Shouldering open the rusted front door he peered inside. The streetlights flooding in through the cracked windows lit up the room, making it easier for him to see. Flashlights tended to attract a lot of attention.

Gun first he crept into the empty house, making sure to keep his back to a solid wall. A creak to his left made him freeze, gun trailing in that direction. As he had expected, a hunched re-animated staggered out of the kitchen, sniffing the air.

Shit.

Fogged eyes landed on him, and immediately the mouth opened wide, jaws unhinging like a snake. The creature ran forward, its voice echoing off the walls. Losing its humanity made it lose all sense of mind, leaving it a growling mumbling shell. Even though it was in the class of vampires, it had no intelligence like that of the vampire. It simply reacted on base instinct.

Kirihara fired twice, but the creature continued coming. Well, fuck. He didn’t think he was going to run into a brand-spanking-new monster. The re-animated, freshly turned, didn’t feel pain as quickly, their nerve endings still trying to catch up to the demon blood now pumping through their veins.

The zombie crashed into him, sending both falling to the ground. Kirihara blocked his face with his forearm, the creature’s teeth tearing at his leather bracer. He fired two more into the creature’s stomach. It jumped back, howling, the silver finally taking effect.

Kirihara climbed to his feet, keeping the thrashing creature in his sights. Without warning he found himself slammed back to the ground, the full weight of a body on his back. His gun clattered across the floor away from him.

“Fuck!” He cursed.

Sharp nails dug at his back, teeth tearing at his jacket. The other zombie had crawled to its feet, staggering towards him. He had completely forgotten there was supposed to be another! A male and a female, he had only cornered the male.

The female on his back reached her hand under his jaw, trying to pull his head back. Knowing where it was now, Kirihara reached to his back and pulled out his custom made silver plated hunting knife, swinging it upward and catching the female in the arm. She screamed and jumped off his back. Kirihara jumped to his feet in time to take a wide swipe at the male. His knife hit bone, stopping. He pulled the knife with a quick yank, planting his boot firmly in its stomach.

The female behind him screamed in rage. Not wanting to end up on the ground again, he spun. Ducking down he managed to catch the female as she lunged at him, flipping her over his back. The silver glint of his gun caught his eye. He dove for it, kicking up a cloud of dust. The moment his hand landed on the gun he spun onto his back, firing three more into the female. She staggered, blood soaking her tattered white dress.

“Die, fucking zombie,” he aimed higher, intending to take off her head.

Her head flew across the room, body dropping to the floor in a heap. On his feet again he picked up the knife he had dropped. Standing on the chest of the squirming male he hacked off the remainder of its head.

Kirihara looked down at himself – ripped shirt, covered in blood (some of it his own), and bruised. It was a quiet night.

“Hunter-san!” Two voices sang from atop the stairs.

Shielding his eyes from the pool of light from the lamps outside the window, Kirihara aimed his gun up the stairs. In a flash he was thrown backwards, back hitting the wall. Both of his weapons clattered away again. A firm hand clamped on his throat, slamming his head back against the wall. He was picked up and thrown the other way, shattering a window with his impact.

He lay on the ground coughing. The only thing strong enough to do that was a real vampire, but what the hell were they doing attacking him?

“Hunter-san, don’t worry I’m not going to kill you,” an individual voice this time, feminine and childish.

Kirihara rose up on his elbows, spitting out blood. A pair of twins stood before him, one with long blue hair, and the other with short red.

“’The fuck are you?” He coughed again, knowing full well he wasn’t going to be able to move in the morning.

“Yohei, Kohei,” the two chimed, “we just wanted to know if you enjoyed our game?”

Kirihara leaned back against the wall. He slowly moved his hand along the floor, trying to reach his ankle without alerting the two in front of him, “game?”

The one with blue hair nodded, “with all the zombies!”

Kirihara snorted. To regular vampires these powerless creations were no better than animals, held no higher than the humans they fed on, “what?”

The red head giggled, cocking his head to the side, “we made them! Our master died shortly after he made us, leaving us with nothing to do! “

“So you made these two to play with?” Kirihara frowned.

“Not just these two! As many as we can! It’s fun to watch all you hunters scrambling around the city trying to catch them all before they kill too many people!”

“What!?” Kirihara grabbed the butterfly knife out of his boot and threw it. The twins laughed as the knife sailed harmlessly between them. For Fledglings they were damn fast.

“Catch us if you can!”

Kirihara jumped to his feet, spinning around, but they were gone. He slowly slid back to his knees, feeling all his injuries all at once.

Torching a place never brought him so much joy, hoping those twins were stupid enough to still be inside. He doubted it, he was never that lucky. The flames reached up to the sky, the smoke blocking out the moon.

Fuck it all, Kirihara ruffled his hair, sighing. He was going to have to report this to the higher-ups. Even though he was technically mercenary, there was still a high power for all of them. He really didn’t want to see Tezuka Kunimitsu-san, but these two Fledglings were too dangerous to be left unhandled.

The three block hike to his car dragged on. His right leg had gone numb, blood from the glass soaking through his jeans. He really hoped there were no more around him, with that much blood on him he was basically a walking target. The only thing he was missing was a giant flashing sign that said ‘Open Bar’. His car stood silently in the empty lot. Fishing the automatic starter out of his jacket pocket he flashed the headlights. He leaned against the door for a moment, trying to pry a small piece of glass out of his hand. After popping open the front door to turn on the interior light, he made his customary circle of his vehicle. Checking the opposite side, under, back seat, just to make sure no one was trying to follow him home.

Clear.

He slid awkwardly into the front seat. Cleaning the blood off of the upholstery was going to be a bitch, but right now, he really didn’t give a fuck. He engine turned over on the first try. Kirihara signed in relief; last hunt he had been to his battery had died, leaving him stranded. Throwing the car into reverse he spun out the wheels and peeled out of the parking lot.

His apartment loomed on the horizon, one of the tallest buildings along the strip. He heard they were planning on building more, making it a regular high-rise suburbia. So far, no one had tried. Something about building permits and not enough money.

The lobby was brightly lit, but thankfully empty. Stale air rushed out at him when he pushed open the front doors - too many people and not enough cleaning crew. Not wishing to aggravate his injuries, he opted for the elevator. The doors slid open, the cart was empty. For that, Kirihara was glad. He really didn’t want to explain his appearance tonight. Blood, glass, ripped clothing, really not something you want to explain to the nice old lady down the hall. 5, 6, 7, 8, the doors binged open on his floor. The hallway was dimly lit, as usual. A light bulb had burnt out months ago, but no one bothered to change it. The further down the hallway he went, the more the hair stood up on the back of his neck. Pulling the gun slowly out of his back holster, Kirihara slowed his pace. His feet no longer made the familiar tapping of rubber on linoleum. Turning a corner his front door came into view. Next to it was dark silhouette leaning casually against the door frame. Creeping further down the hall the person came into the light.

Kirihara sighed and stopped, slipping his gun back into its holster.

“Yo, Akaya.”

Kirihara rubbed his forehead, “what do you want Kamio, I could have shot you!”

The red-head grinned, “yeah right. You know I move faster than you can draw.”

Kirihara frowned; he hated it when Kamio was right. “What do you want? I’m not really in the mood for bullshit tonight.”

Kamio’s eyes scanned over him, “I can tell, what the hell happened?”

“I got thrown into a window.”

Kamio winced, “ouch.”

Kirihara fished his other keys out of his pocket by tugging on the chain. Kamio raised his eyebrow and smirked.

“Hey, last time I lost the damn things! If keeping them chained to my pants means I can get into my apartment at night, so be it.” Kirihara frowned and unlocked his door, swinging it open, “ladies first.”

Kamio frowned but stepped into the apartment anyway. Flipping on the light the two waited in the entry way for their eyes to adjust. The only noise in the apartment was the slide of metal on material as both drew their guns. Kamio’s from a shoulder holster, Kirihara’s from his back.

One could never be too safe in this business.

“Clear!” Kamio called from one end of the apartment, “clear!” Kirihara answered from the other. Both were all too familiar with having their apartments broken into by random things hell bent on killing them.

Kamio slid his gun back into the holster and threw his jacket over the back of the couch, “so just what happened tonight?”

Kirihara sighed, throwing himself down on the couch, “you have no fucking idea. I thought it was just a regular clean-up job. But as it turns out, the reason why we’ve been chasing around so many frigging zombies is because two Fledglings think it’s funny!”

Kamio sat across from him on the couch, “Fledglings?”

Kirihara twirled his finger in the air, trying to kick start his memory, “Yohei and Kohei or some shit?” He shrugged.

Kamio frowned, “well, fuck.”

It was Kirihara’s turn to frown, “what?”

“I heard about them. Tachibana-san mentioned something about them tonight.”

Kirihara hissed, Tachibana, it just HAD to be Tachibana!

Kamio shrugged, “Listen, I know you two don’t get along, but he’s a good source! He’s close to Tezuka-san.”

“Sucking ones left nob will do that,” Kirihara shrugged nonchalantly.

“You’re an ass Akaya,” Kamio crawled across the couch to Kirihara, sliding his hands up the others thighs.

Kirihara raised an eyebrow, this again? “And here I thought this was just a social call.”

Kamio chuckled as he straddled Kirihara’s waist, pulling his shirt over his head. Kirihara winced as the material aggravated his wounds. “When is it only ever a social call?” He leaned forward, nipping at Kirihara’s collar.

“So I take it things aren’t going to well with Shinji?”

Kamio froze, “how did you hear about that?”

Kirihara rolled his eyes, “Hunters talk. And it’s not like it’s hard to find out who you’ve been sleeping with. From what I hear you have a hard time keeping it zipped.”

Kamio bolted up off the couch, seething.

Kirihara rolled his eyes again, “oh get off it Akira.” He stood up as well. Dropping his holster on the couch Kirihara waved over his shoulder as he turned towards the bathroom, “lock the door when you leave.”

Knowing Kamio, he’d find him naked in his bed when he got out of the shower. Kirihara closed the door behind him and locked it. Sure, sleeping with Kamio was fun, but he came with more strings than a puppet.

The hot water soon steamed up the entire bathroom. Kirihara tilted his head under the spray, letting the water coast down his back. The water burned as it ran over the cuts. He managed to get out of that one with only a few scratches. But scratches hurt a hell of a lot more than broken bones. Pushing his curly wet hair out of his face he heard the door creak open. Kamio peeled back the shower curtain.

Kirihara frowned; he should have known a locked door wouldn’t stop him.

Kamio’s red hair plastered to his forehead as he stuck his head under the spray. He brushed it back, tilting his head to let the water beat against his throat. Turning, he pinned Kirihara to the side wall. He dipped his head forward to lick the beads of water running down Kirihara’s chest. Kirihara let him have his way, opening his mouth when the other kissed him. Kamio pulled him away from the wall, turning them both so Kirihara’s back was to the spray. Dropping to his knees in the small tub Kamio took Kirihara in his mouth. Kirihara grunted, hand on top of Kamio’s head. The red-head sucked hard, eyes closed against the spray coming off the others narrow shoulders.

Kirihara watched as Kamio’s red head moved back and forth, tendrils of hair weaving down his face with the water. His tongue worked expertly along Kirihara’s length, flicking and massaging. Kirihara’s chest rose and fell rapidly, quiet moans coming from his parted lips.

The water started to cool against his back, and Kirihara cursed.

So much for that nice shower.

He rocked his hips in time with Kamio’s mouth, watching himself slide in and out. His moans started to get higher, the odd ‘ah’ coming from him. Kamio only quickened his pace. Kirihara cried out and tightened his grip in Kamio’s hair as he came.

And there went the shower.
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Colour Me Blood Red