The door closes behind me, and the sight is enough to churn a blood-full stomach.

Flandre lies there on her bed, surrounded by stuffed toys and otherwise, pale as ever, with twinkling wings resting as if a collection of jewels. Her face lies bloodied, her Yakumo outfit torn here and there, caked in mud. Sakuya is behind me, attempting to no avail to conceal how she huffs in overwrought mind and body, trembling from bloodletting and… fear. A fear we share, for it was bestowed upon us by a veritable demon.

Her knives clink to the ground as she sinks to her knees, wheezing reverberating loudly throughout the room; “I-In the stopped world…” She speaks. I listen only halfheartedly, approaching my sleeping little sister. I had started everything with my failures, letting fear control me—look at the consequences, at this Pietà. “… S-She’d moved. I saw her following us with her eyes.” The words are gongs.

The demon said she’d discover, but ‘twas mere toying.

Had Yukari not appeared…

I stand by Flandre, burning my gaze at the creamy uniform bearing symbols—trigrams, Meiling had told me—of the woman who brought Hell to Earth. The woman who untimely saved mine and my sister’s life. It bore no merit as it was part of the cycle she fostered… Yet, as my fingers trail across her face and feel warmth, the escaping oxygen, the truth is impossible to deny. And in its existence I found rage. Budding rage.

A failure for your friends, whose dependability you lost; to yourself and to your sister, relying on a much worse devil to save your skin; to the perfect and elegant maid, a fifth of her flowing life-force thrumming through your veins, nurturing lost strength.

Hand cups Flandre’s face, her eyes fluttering open ever so slowly, groggy and…

… A-And…

Purple.

These are not my sister’s eyes.

They are Yukari’s.

What is… happening here?

My hold of Flandre’s face turned murderous, eyes flung wide, staring straight into the violet pupils. Where’s the scarlet red? Is this an illusion—a trap? I desperately search her expression for any other change the Yakumo woman might’ve imposed; these red eyes of mine sickened at the sight of the deep violet and purple swimming in my sister’s face. A parasite sprung out of nowhere and has taken over, feeding and replacing, destroying anything in its way for no other sake than its indulgence. Yukari Yakumo! That monster!

The rage blossomed impossibly, and in an unrelenting fit borne from the blood feeding my every vein and artery, I ripped the uniform off Flandre’s body as if I could rid her of the scourge. Those purple eyes bulge in confusion—those aren’t my sister’s! Away! “R-Remi, what…?” She tries to cover herself, yet I scour her body for any other maim, any other sign of the Yakumo’s parasite taking over my sister’s body. I can only find dried blood, no source of the putrid ocean of hundreds of purples that’d gouged and replaced my sister’s eyes.

It must be something, somewhere. The Yakumo woman wouldn’t settle for so little.

My heart rattles, my mind clenches. It’s my fault.

“Mistress, please, calm down!” Sakuya’s hand on my shoulder stops me, her voice bubbling with concern, pulling me away from my frightened little sister.

“NO! She has corrupted Flandre!” I point at purple eyes, blood simmering. Flan’s eyes go wide as she watches the expansion of my folded wings, the upper bone towering above the tip of my hat and its lowest grating against the ground. “I cannot have that; I MUST not leave that unanswered, Sakuya!” The wrath grew each time I met those cursed purples, a knot overwhelming my stomach at a conclusion that dawned like Uncle Vlad’s last forest of people, thirty thousand long: Flan shall never know the difference, what was taken away from her. Vampires cannot see their reflections.

Failure after failure.

When shall it come to a close?

“R-Remi, what’s happening? Where's Kari? Everyone el—?” Before Flandre could even get a glimpse of what I felt building in my eyes, I craned a hand towards her naked visage, and every blood cell in her vampiric body rattled before, like a stringless doll, she slumped into Sakuya’s arms, who’d popped by her side. Then, and only then, I let the simmering tears rivulet down my face. Sharing them with Patchy as her mind and body unraveled was a privilege, yet to let my sister, now tainted solely by the despicable Yakumo woman, see me cry?

I cannot have that. Not until after this war comes to a close, and…

“Mistress,” Sakuya coos to my side. Flandre rests on her bed, dressed in her pajamas, her mind unconscious due to Archblood magic. What a haunting feeling, to have use of this power so soon after it is returned.

“Do not worry, Sakuya. There will be time for tears.” I weep for my innocent sister and for everything I have caused in my mistakes. Tears I clean off. They can’t shape fate. “… Protect Flandre. I’ll be back soon.” Sakuya nods steadily, ever loyal.

I have friends of mine to help, to save.

And a nasty parasite to squash.