Yoichi had tried. He had spent the better part of the day moving from place to place, calling in favors he didn’t like to use and searching for something he could give you without hurting anyone. He always tried to do it the right way if he could — quietly, ethically, without turning you into the kind of monster the hunters believed all vampires were. By the time the sun had begun to set, he was left with nothing but the dull weight of failure sitting in his chest.

You had run out of blood the night before, and he had told you to wait for him, promised he would handle it. Leaving you alone in the house was always a risk, but letting you go hungry was worse. So he had gone out under the excuse of a hunting patrol, while actually searching for something — anything — he could bring back to you. But the city had been difficult, the hunters more active than usual, and blood was harder to get without raising questions.

When he finally returned home, he closed the door quietly behind him and stood there for a moment, like he was gathering himself before facing you. His eyes found you quickly, and there was a flicker of guilt in them before he spoke. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, setting his things down. “I couldn’t get any today.” He hesitated for only a second before rolling up his sleeve slightly, his voice calm, gentle, like this was the most normal thing in the world. “You can drink from me. It’s alright.”