Work Text:
It's the kind of love that says 'Mine'. It's the kind of love that makes him bleed in her place, whenever he can, and she yells and screams at him, because it isn't fair that she's being treated like a delicate flower, a bird in a cage of pretty intentions. She hates that he protects her, if only because his protection is so absolute that she can never show him that she can bleed just as equally for him, make him see that when she bleeds, it's his blood because every time he's cut, it's her blood pouring from his wounds.
It's the kind of love that makes people uncomfortable, because no one wants to imagine losing themselves so completely. But it's the only way they know how to love eachother.
She wishes she could prove that it's his blood flowing through her veins, keeping her moving, forcing her to run, to hide because he won't give her other options. She can't maim, can't kill, and she's never wanted to do either, except now she has something precious, something important to protect, something worth those stains on her soul, and yet she's not allowed to, not when it finally matters.
It drives her a little crazy, even as she tries to understand. But she can't, because it's not a sane kind of love. It's possessive, consuming. It's a love that breeds cruelty, if only because they're in almost constant danger, and there's a voice in her head asking her 'how far will you go' and she knows she should regret 'too far' but can't.
It's not tested. Over and over, and she bleeds through him, every wound a new scar on her body even as his heals, not even a blemish on his too perfect skin. She bleeds and there's no pain for the loss, only the sense of a right withheld. And it aches, to be so close, to be so strong and denied the opportunity to bleed his blood when he's shedding hers.
They're not sane, but then, they're not crazy. The others say 'efficient' in respectful tones. Efficient instead of fucking terrifying. Efficient, as though each enemy was a simple to do list, nothing more. Efficient, the way he kills for her and only her, when she's threatened, all the while spilling her blood in a path across feudal japan like a splatter painting on a map.
She yells and shouts, and he silences her, because he is a silent creature, not given to words. But it's there, when his fangs hold to her lip. Be Silent. It's a command and she gives in, weak every time, and she never gets a chance to tell him that she's afraid her blood is weak inside of him, that she'll slow him down, that she's not as strong as he is. It's what always lurks beneath her shouting and screaming, and she never gets the chance to warn him that maybe he got the lesser end of the bargain. After all, hadn't he been the one espousing the frailty of humans?
When she gets her chance, she's high on the wave of her fury. He's down and out for the count, and the sight of her blood spilling across the ground is enough to push all of the right buttons, to trigger the berserk rage she's never had a chance to express, and his blood is howling inside of her, churning in her ears and deafening her to everything else. Red washes her vision and she's using everything she's got, and she's got so much more because of him. She pushes forward, relentless like the sea because her blood is staining the ground, and his blood demands retribution.
It isn't until the threat has passed that she sees his blood is everywhere, tinting swathes of dirt and grass and the remains of some now unrecognizable beast. His blood is everywhere, and she looks down and puts her hands over the gushing wound, because she has to keep it safe, has to hold him inside of her, but it's rushing out, out, and she's not so strong anymore. All she can think is, 'Kami, I've killed him'.
But he's moving, stumbling over to her, her blood still oozing from him, and she understands that he was protecting her, because she's bleeding out his blood, bleeding his wounds and he's feeling all of it, and she's so sorry, so sorry, she never thought about how much bleeding for him would make him hurt, and she wishes she could take it all back. But blood for blood, it's done, and she's losing all of his, and she can only see how crippling the wound is reflected in his eyes.