ninety-nine balloons (part 4 x fem!reader)

22- Run Rabbit

With what little energy the rabbit gifted you before it left all the same, you urged your feet to carry on, just a bit more. Another growl shook your body, your stomach increasingly impatient with its lack of attention.

"That rabbit was shit." It said. "Give me something good. Give me whoever is searching for you."

It's so easy. The person calling to you, they're just a little ways away. You would not have the strength to escape from temptation. A wild spur of energy would shoot you at them like you were spring-loaded.

"(Y/n), if you're out here, we'll find you! Just hold on!"

You promised the stars this person would only have a few more seconds before they were snatched like the rabbit, so you begged them, pleaded, for control over yourself, to have the restraint you did with Hazamada.

Crshk, crshk, someone's getting closer, their feet are heard shifting along the layer of leaves decorating the grass. Crshk, crshk, crshk.

Your body could no longer move. As if someone had put it on a pause and kept it there, deliberately, because you could just smell the blood of whoever neared your position. Nit even ten meters away now, they came closer, and their flashlight breached the thick night you'd grown accustomed to.

Light spilled into the dark like creamer into coffee, lighting everything up around it. Closer, getting closer, you could only hope your feet continued to feel heavy, and your body to keep feeling weighed down from fatigue.

But the final reserves of your energy had been breached almost instinctually, and there was a wild circuit of life that shot through you; if you were any less collected, you could've gotten high off it. Suppose that's how it's meant to work, though.

Crshk, crshk, crshk, crshk, crshk.

Finally. They're here. But also, what sorrow, they're finally here.

"You must be (Y/n)-- you look terrible."

Someone elses voice comes from the body that jumps out from behind the nearest tree. This had not been the one calling out to you, you were sure. This was more whiny, and nasal. 

A man, improperly dressed for what was a cold night in Morioh you'd say, flicked off his flashlight and dropped it into one of his pockets. 

The little details, you didn't concern yourself with. You didn't care how he preened his thickly gelled green hair, or how some of that gel gathered in stocky collections along his headband; you smelled blood, it was exposed and polluted the air like oil.

A sort of guttural groan came out of your mouth instead of a warning to get away, and your body responded with a convulse, fear of itself.

"Oh, you must be hungry." The man says as he applies Chapstick for whatever reason. "Here. I was told to bring you this if I found you."

The sound of some bulky bag hitting the ground in a sloshing manner caught your attention. The smell of blood followed the squishy bag, and you allowed no time wasted to relieve yourself and sunk your teeth int-

Is this plastic?

"A blood bag. No need to ask how I got it."

The muscles in your teeth did their thing as you looked up to your, maybe, savior, maybe enemy. You didn't want to think about how you looked, long overgrown nails, wine red eyes, dead cold skin and dirty, ruined clothes. 

A zombie would've been more accurate than a vampire, or at least a very malnourished person. So how was it that this stranger was able to diagnose your curse so easily when any other would've seen you and thought you a walking dead.

"You have something I want, and in return I'm going to do you a favor." The man throws down another blood bag. You didn't even realize yours was already empty. "I need inspiration, and you need a safe place to recuperate. Koichi told me about a missing acquaintance of his, and then, Hazamada came to me about finding said missing person. I almost didn't believe his talk of vampires until now."

You coughed and broke your steady intake of blood, nearly choking, and struggled to meet his gaze again. He picked up on your panic.

"You're a mess. But if you're worried, as far as I'm aware I'm the only other one that knows-- he explicitly told me to keep it to myself no matter what, and I intend to keep that until something goes wrong."

A dry breath manages to finally reach your lungs, and you speak with a raspy tone, weak and weary, on the brink of failure. "I don't-- I can't hurt anybody, mister, I don't want-"

"I get it, but also, I can't trust you. So. here's what's going to happen. I'm going to tell Koichi-"

"No!"

"Let me finish." He snapped. "Or I'll hail the police over here."

You didn't interrupt after that.

"As I was saying, I am going to tell Koichi, and then he's going to know. And then no one else will. Not unless something happens to me." The man explains. "So, do something stupid, and my handy little human bomb will go off, and tell everyone. He's going to automatically pin whatever happens to me, on you."

"And, who are you, mister?"

"I'm surprised you don't know, but again, can't expect a small-town nobody to know someone as great as myself."

"...And that is?"

"Rohan. As it stands, you have no other option than me. Hazamada is being held by Jotaro and Josuke," He cringes as he says the name, "most likely interrogated for what he knows about you. He'll break sooner or later, so you can come with me and avoid confrontation, or you can wait here and chew on some more rabbits."

Rohan briefly looks in the direction of a rather nasty smell, and you already know what is it he's referencing. You can still taste it on your tongue.

"If we're going to leave," he continues, "we need to do that now. I can hear Josuke's big mouth getting closer-- I guess Hazamada ended up breaking sooner. Hm."

You think you can hear him too, yelling for you, and if you strain your ears enough, Hazamada could be heard whispering a faint sorry, sorry, into the air.

Rohan looks at you, however impatient. He seems pleased when you pull yourself to a standing position and follow him.

"Let's get going then."