Machio hadn't known exactly when things began to change, but it was impossible to ignore now. The subtle shift in his mother's demeanor, the guarded glances, the whispered phone calls late into the night — all pieces of a puzzle he didn't want to solve but had no choice but to face.
Azumi was his anchor, his constant in a world full of supernatural chaos. She was the one person he trusted beyond anyone else, the steady hand that calmed his restless spirit. But lately, he caught himself watching her, trying to decipher the tightness around her eyes, the way her smiles sometimes felt like practiced performances rather than genuine warmth.
He felt the growing distance between them like a slow ache — as if she was slipping away to a place where he couldn't follow.
He hated feeling powerless.
---
It was a lazy afternoon when Machio's curiosity got the better of him. The fading sunlight cast long shadows over their home, and he found himself near the living room, where voices — low and intimate — drifted through the slightly ajar door.
His heart hammered as he edged closer.
Through the crack, he saw them.
Azumi, his mother — vulnerable and alive in a way Machio rarely saw — sat on the sofa, close enough to touch. Kira's fingers twined with hers, brushing away a stray strand of hair. The playboy vampire, with his cocky smirk and sharp eyes, looked softer now, more genuine.
And then, as if drawn by a force neither could resist, their lips met.
The world tilted.
Machio's breath caught, his chest tightening painfully. Every unspoken question, every suppressed worry, surged forward at once.
How long have you been hiding this from me?
Is this why you've been so distant?
Who is he to you?
Am I enough?
The betrayal wasn't just in the kiss. It was in the secrecy, the hidden corners of a life Machio thought he knew.
He turned away, fighting the urge to run, to scream, to demand answers.
But deep down, a quieter, colder thought took root.
Maybe this is who she really is.
---
The next morning, the air between Machio and Azumi was thick with unspoken words. Machio couldn't keep the weight in his chest any longer.
He found her in the kitchen, her hands moving mechanically as she prepared tea. Her usual calm presence was there, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed the storm beneath.
"Mom," he began, voice trembling despite his efforts. "I… I saw you and Kira yesterday."
Azumi froze, the teacup slipping from her fingers, forgotten. Her eyes widened, then softened.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," she said quietly.
Machio struggled to keep the anger from spilling out. "Who is he to you? Why didn't you tell me?"
Azumi took a deep breath, searching for the right words. "Kira and I… we share a complicated past. He's not just some stranger."
Machio's mind reeled. "A complicated past? What does that mean? That you loved him before? Or that you still do?"
Azumi's gaze dropped to her hands, trembling slightly. "Before you were born, before I became the person I am now… Kira was someone important to me. Someone I thought I could never have."
Machio's voice cracked. "Then why now? Why come back into my life like this?"
She looked at him, pain flickering in her eyes. "Because sometimes the past doesn't stay buried. Because some bonds don't break, no matter how hard we try."
---
Machio sank onto a chair, trying to piece together the fragments of truth Azumi had laid bare.
So, he's more than just a dangerous vampire playboy.
He's a part of Mom's history.
And that history feels like it's crashing into my present.
He felt a bitter twist in his gut. Am I just an afterthought? A consolation prize?
Azumi reached out hesitantly, brushing his hair back. "You're my son. My life changed the moment I had you. No matter what, that will never change."
Machio swallowed hard, unsure if the reassurance was enough.
---
Unnoticed by both, Natsume had been lingering near the doorway, drawn by the raised voices and the raw tension in the room. He was perceptive, always alert to the undercurrents between people — especially those he cared about.
Later, at school, Natsume sought out Veronica, sharing his concerns.
"Machio's been acting strange," Natsume said, voice low. "His mom… she's involved with this vampire, Kira. Something about it doesn't sit right with me."
Veronica's eyes sparkled with mischief and something sharper. "Kira? The infamous vampire playboy? Sounds like trouble."
Natsume nodded. "Exactly. And Machio's caught in the middle. I don't want to see him hurt."
Veronica's grin widened. "Trust me, trouble makes stories worth telling. Let's keep an eye on this."
---
That night, Machio lay in bed, the ceiling above blurred through the haze of his restless thoughts.
He turned over the scene from the previous day in his mind — the kiss, Azumi's confession, Natsume's worry — and a flood of emotions crashed through him: confusion, jealousy, betrayal, love.
How do you compete with a vampire playboy?
How do you fight for your mother's heart when the past looms so large?
And what does this mean for us — for me?
His hands clenched into fists at his sides. He felt small, lost in a story much bigger than he wanted to be part of.
But somewhere beneath the pain, a fierce determination sparked.
I won't let this break us.
I will find my place in this tangled web.
Because family is more than blood.
---
The night deepened, but Machio's mind refused to quiet. Outside, the moon hung low and red — a silent witness to the storm of secrets and emotions that would shape their fates.
And as shadows lengthened, one truth remained clear: the path ahead would be anything but simple.