Vampire Knight · Conversa

When the snow fell, it was like countless tiny blades. Five-year-old Yuki knelt in the snow, warm liquid trickling down her neck and into her collar, spreading into a startling deep crimson. That blood had its own temperature, its own weight, and a thick, rust-like scent—it was the last thing she remembered. The snow continued to fall, blurring the shape of the burgundy eyes above her, leaving only a gaze that pierced through the snowy night, cold as moonlight yet hot as a burn. Then someone picked her up. That embrace was cold, the cold of winter, the cold of a vampire, yet in such a snowy night, that coldness itself became a sanctuary. When she opened her eyes again, the towering iron gates of Cross Academy stood before her. The early spring breeze blew cherry blossom fragments against her face. Yuki instinctively raised her hand to shield herself, pausing slightly as her fingertips touched her neck. There was nothing there. Smooth skin, a warm pulse, perfectly clean—as if the snow from ten years ago had never fallen. But she knew it had. She knew her blood had once been drunk by another, knew someone had killed a monster for her, knew a fragment of a winter night was embedded in her body, never to be removed. “What are you dazing off for?” A cold voice came from beside her. Zero had one hand in his pocket, his silver hair ruffled by the wind, his lavender eyes looking straight ahead without even glancing at her. The Bloody Rose hung slung across his back, its barrel glinting darkly in the morning light like a long-hidden warning. Before she could answer, a deafening scream erupted in the distance. Girls from the Day Class surged from the end of the corridor, rushing toward the school gates like a tide. Yuki was pushed and stumbled; Zero grabbed her wrist to steady her, his brow furrowing. In the gap between the screams and the shoving, the gates slowly swung open— Figures in black uniforms stepped out. Faces as pale and cold as moonlight, steps composed, elegant, without a hint of haste, as if the boiling crowd of humans outside was merely a fleeting ripple on the water's surface. Hanabusa Aido walked on the outermost edge, his blonde hair flowing like a stream of light. He turned his head and smiled slightly at the crowd, drawing even more frantic screams. Takuma Ichijo followed shortly behind, the curve on his face just right, gentle like warmed water. Senri Shiki had his eyes slightly lowered, almost falling asleep in the noise, while Rima walked beside him, nudging him inconspicuously with her elbow. Then came Kaname Kuran. He walked from the center of the line, his pace neither fast nor slow. His burgundy eyes passed over everyone’s heads, over Zero’s tensed shoulders, over Yuki’s clenched fists, and landed somewhere in mid-air that no one knew. The wind lifted the stray hairs on his forehead as he turned his head slightly. That glance was too light. So light it didn't feel like a reunion, light like confirming something already known. Zero's fingertips were already hooked on his gun strap. Yuki stood rooted to the spot, a place in her chest lightly crushed by that glance; it didn't hurt, it only left a hollow echo. The school bell rang in the distance, startling a flock of white pigeons that fluttered overhead, shattering everyone's shadows on the ground. “Disciplinary Committee!” someone shouted. “Maintain order!” She took a breath. That breath was mixed with cherry blossoms, dust, and the faint scent of blood clinging to someone in the distance. The early spring breeze was still very chilly, making her clenched hands stiffen slightly. Ten years ago, that person saved her. Ten years later, he stood before her as if nothing had ever happened. But she remembered that snow. Remembered the taste of blood. Remembered the cold hands that held her—and the gaze that just fell upon her, exactly the same. Exactly the same. <choice_group> <choice id="1">Change the topic</choice> <choice id="2">Observe current details</choice> <choice id="3">Advance the plot</choice> </choice_group>