Author's Note: Welcome to my cross-cultural supernatural AU! I am a mad woman for even thinking of starting up a new series, but I'm going to be a lot busier by mid-summer so I figured: now's really the best time for writing. Without further ado, please enjoy and let me know your thoughts!

thrill seek·er
noun
a person who is eager to take part in dangerous or exciting activities that involve physical risk

"I hardly find this a good idea, Victor."

"It's just for a bit of fun before the photo shoot tomorrow, Chris." Victor looks up at the thick canopy above him, rendering the forest grounds dark even with the moon hanging high in the sky. He shifts the quiver of arrows to a more comfortable spot on his back as he continues deeper into the forest. "We've never exorcised a Japanese demon before."

"And that's precisely what concerns me," Christophe snorts over the phone. "We don't know what you'll face out there, plus Yakov will kill me if there are scars on his precious product."

"We've avoided that so far, haven't we?"

"That's because I've always been there to save your well-sculpted behind."

Something nearby makes a crunching sound, like a heavy weight landing in a pile of dead leaves.

"Incoming," Victor says, dropping his voice to a whisper. Ignoring Christophe's next words, Victor hangs up, tucking his phone into his pants pocket. Carefully, he slides the bow off his shoulder and picks out an arrow, the silver-coated tip gleaming in the darkness.

Born into families that have conducted exorcisms since the old witch hunts, he and Christophe have been hunting demons as a pair since they turned of age. Victor enjoys the chase, the thrill of subduing and killing a foul-faced creature, more so than his day job as an international actor slash model. With his looks, Christophe could very well have been a star too, but the man chose to become Victor's agent instead, so they could travel together and plan locations based solely on exorcism assignments. The upcoming photoshoot in Hasetsu, Japan has nothing to do with demons, however; for this particular location shoot, Victor simply wanted a chance to visit the country.

Or so he thought until this very forest, just a few blocks away from his hotel, called to his need for fresh excitement.

Victor has his arrow trained in the direction of the sound, when he hears that same crunch coming from behind him. Whipping round, he pulls the bowstring taut, only to turn his gaze upwards, gaping in astonishment.

The demon is a giant, faceless humanoid shadow; massive as a house and nothing at all like the demons Victor is familiar with. Victor barely has a second to throw himself to the side, before the shadowy form lifts a foot to stomp the spot he was standing just moments before.

Rolling to his feet, Victor releases the arrow into what seems like the creature's head – only to watch the projectile fly through the creature as though it isn't there at all.

"Silver's out," Victor mutters to himself, dodging a swipe by a shadow hand that moves at a speed that definitely doesn't match its size. "Let's try this – " Quickly, he reaches into the pouch on his belt and flings white grains at the creature, anticipating some sort of monstrous bellow of pain.

The only reaction the demon gives is to pause in slight confusion, before it tries to stomp on Victor with its other foot.

Well. That didn't work.

The Russian hunter stands up, takes a second to straighten his maroon Armani leather jacket, before high-tailing it in the opposite direction.

Not good, not good, not good, thinks Victor as he sprints in a zigzag motion through the forest, listening to the mute creature's heavy crunches behind him. Every once in a while, the ground shakes as the creature's hands miss in their attempts to crush the demon hunter to a pancake. In Victor's experience, all demons are susceptible to silver, salt, or some combination of the two with other elements, but it seems the cultural differences between East and West extend even to the supernatural realm.

Much as the new knowledge only increases his fascination of Japan, Victor hopes he can get out of this little adventure alive and unscathed. He does hate it when Christophe is right.

Suddenly, the demon lets out a deafening howl.

Skidding to a halt, Victor twists round in time to see a large, solid black mass land with a thump in front of him.

The creature's arm, Victor realizes with amazement.

"Your Western methods won't work here, demon hunter."

Someone lands silently next to the dismembered arm. Through the darkness, Victor sees that it's a man dressed in a long trench coat, holding a long spear with blades on both ends. (Extraordinary.) Before Victor can ask about the unique weapon, the man has leapt to the sky to evade the swat of a giant hand. The blades carve silver arcs in the dark, and the demon howls again to the sound of another thump, in pain from losing its remaining arm.

It's when the man is soaring in mid-air under the full moon that Victor gets a good look at him: he's Japanese, with black hair slicked back in a styled look, and a lithe body covered in tight, tight, leather under a navy blue coat. The shirt collar dips low, revealing sharp collarbones that compliment an even sharper jawline above the curve of a slender neck. Wielding the long spear and bathed in moonlight, the man's ethereal beauty makes for such a captivating painting that Victor breath hitches in wonder at the sight.

And when the man lands on the ground again, Victor sees the final piece that captures his heart absolutely and thoroughly – a pair of brilliant, golden eyes.

This beauty is not human.

Victor doesn't even notice the crunching sounds of the creature making its escape.

The man turns towards him, spear twirling idly in his hand. "I think you should leave now, hunter, while you have the – "

Gold eyes meet blue and the man halts mid-sentence.

Then, to Victor's surprise, the unwavering composure shifts, just as the gold color dulls to a plain brown.

"V-V-V-Victor Nikiforov!?" the man shrieks, slapping hands to his cheeks and backing away so fast that Victor feels vaguely offended.

"Yuu~ri," an amused voice singsongs from the treetops, "You can ogle your idol after we've exterminated that youkai."

Idol?

The Japanese man glances at Victor, hesitating, before taking off in the direction of the fading sounds, coat tails flying behind him.

"Wait!" Victor calls, but the man is already gone.

No matter, he'll find the other hunter again. Demon hunting is a small world, smaller still when the local hunter is a beautiful man called Yuuri who speaks fluent English.

The photo shoot takes place in front of Hasetsu Castle, which Victor itches to explore. Old castles are often rife with all kinds of supernatural beings. Unfortunately, he's at his day job, which means he has to follow society's convention of "normality". (In other words, "boring".) Flicking silver bangs out of his eyes, Victor plasters on a smile and joins his fellow models for group selfies on the castle grounds as they wait for their turn before the camera.

"It's very quaint, isn't it, this country," says one of the models.

"Everything is so small," agrees another.

"Wonder if everything is small," says a model, waggling his eyebrows suggestively to the giggles of the female models.

"Oh, I think so," snickers one model at the side, "I can tell you that their largest condom size won't fit any of us."

"Used one already, have you?" says a female model, and the rest of the group dissolves in laughter.

With a sigh, Victor turns his gaze to the white castle behind, standing tall and majestic in the clear, blue sky. None of his colleagues know anything beyond sex, fashion, the latest dieting and workout fads, and finally, more sex. Sex is fantastic, of course, a whole different sort of excitement from demon hunting. Still, a few minutes of pleasure – often more than a few, if Victor were honest about his skills – is nothing compared to the thrill of a chase, of the hunt, as he tracks down his quarry with pure adrenaline coursing through his veins.

There's a flash of sharp lines, soft curves, and bright, bright gold, and Victor smiles to himself at the memory.

And now there's one chase he can't wait to begin as soon as the shoot is over.

"Nikiforov!"

Victor graciously excuses himself from the group and heads to the set. As he stands in front of the cameras and reflectors, he lets his eyes roam absently about the set while a make-up artist scurries over to touch up his foundation. If there's one thing that crosses cultures all over the world, it's the equipment set-up for a photo shoot: predictable and always the same. (Honestly, Victor doesn't know what he would do if it weren't for his family's unusual trade. Probably find a passion in skydiving, volcano boarding, or maybe even ice-skating – the jumps do look quite thrilling on television.) His gaze falls on the Japanese photo shoot director, an anxious, scrawny man, who appears to be deep in conversation with –

Victor's heart thrums with elation.

He looks different, with black hair left messy and blue-framed glasses perched on a small nose. Gone is the trench coat and leather, replaced by a simple blazer over a white dress shirt and grey slacks.

But Victor has the man's gorgeous features etched in his memory, and no amount of ordinary dressing can hide such beauty.

Just like that, "boring" has turned to "best day ever".

"Ah, Victor," his agency's manager beckons for him, "Before you start, I'd like you to meet Yuuri Katsuki, our interpreter for the shoot."

"Yuuri," Victor says, deliberately dragging out the first syllable and relishing the way the Japanese man's face turns a delightful shade of pink, "A pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," Yuuri replies, flashing a nervous smile.

The gap between this personality and last night's is so vast that Victor can't help but grow more intrigued.

Next to Yuuri, the director claps his hands together and says a few rapid words of Japanese.

"The director says he'll begin your shoot, if you're ready," Yuuri translates smoothly.

"Certainly. Oh and Yuuri," Victor crooks a smile over his shoulder, "Do let me know when you get off work today? I'd love to buy you dinner."

The quick exchange that Yuuri has with the director after that probably has to do with Yuuri's efforts at explaining why he started spluttering wildly like a crazed person.

They argue for several minutes, with Yuuri protesting some silly nonsense about work boundaries and having leftovers in the fridge, but Victor wins in the end, with the Japanese man finally giving in to Victor's persistent cajoling. (Thrill of the chase, indeed.) The Russian star takes Yuuri to a French restaurant he found on the first floor of his hotel. The disadvantage of wining and dining as a foreigner is that he doesn't know any good restaurants in the area; on the other hand, one can never go wrong with a restaurant in a five-star hotel. Indeed, with the soft candle lighting, white tablecloths, and elegant chairs, the restaurant has the precise ambience Victor is seeking for a slow seduction over a prolonged eight-course meal.

That, and the fact that Yuuri's features look even more mesmerizing, illuminated in the candlelight.

"Wow, this is fancier than I expected," Yuuri remarks sheepishly as the waiter drapes a napkin over his lap. "I feel so underdressed."

"You look fine," Victor assures. More than fine. "It's a hotel restaurant so people come in whatever they want. There's even a couple in pajamas."

"There is?" Yuuri says, craning his neck to scan the restaurant.

"No, I just said that to help you feel less embarrassed."

There's a beat, before Yuuri laughs, and Victor decides he wants to find more ways to bring that out of the other man. "Thanks."

"Can I start you off with anything, Sirs?" the waiter asks in accented English.

"We'll have two glasses of champagne," Victor replies without hesitation.

"Champagne?" Yuuri says, eyes wide.

"My treat, remember?" Victor winks, marveling the way the blush spreads so quickly across the fair cheeks. "So, Yuuri," he leans on his hands, eyes creasing in his most charming smile, "Let's talk about what we did last night."

The glasses fog up almost comically. "L-Last night?"

Victor's smile broadens. "In the forest, together, under the light of the moon…"

Yuuri's hands fly to his cheeks in a gesture so reminiscent of his panicked reaction the night before that Victor struggles to contain his laughter. "Could you not make it sound like we – " the Japanese man stops, face going aflame as the waiter returns to pour champagne into their glasses.

"Like we…?" Victor prompts teasingly when the waiter leaves.

Yuuri looks as if he's about to finish the sentence, before he shakes his head vigorously, dropping his hands to his lap. "You weren't supposed to see that," he says instead, eyes lowering to the table.

"Why not?" says Victor, tilting his head slightly. "You were magnificent."

Yuuri's gaze snaps up in surprise. "I was?"

"Magnificent," Victor affirms, "And the most beautiful sight I've ever laid eyes on."

There's that blush again; Victor makes a mental note to compliment Yuuri as often as he can. "Not many people would say that," Yuuri says, "Especially the beautiful part."

"How could they not after seeing you in battle, after seeing your eyes in battle?"

Yuuri blinks once, before he straightens in his seat. "You liked my eyes?" he says softly.

"I like your eyes," Victor corrects, "Present shade included."

And then, Yuuri's lips curve into a shy smile, long eyelashes lowering into a half-lidded gaze. "Thank you," he murmurs, and Victor's heart skips a beat. "That means a lot more to me than you know."

"Then on that note," says Victor, picking up his flute of champagne before he blurts out his feelings too fast, too soon, "Cheers to a fortuitous meeting."

"Cheers," Yuuri agrees, clinking his glass against Victor's.

"Tell me, Yuuri," Victor says after a drink, "How are your eyes so gold? I've never seen that color before."

"That's because Western demons generally have black or red eyes," Yuuri points out, "Whereas Japanese youkai have a slightly larger color spectrum."

"You-kai?"

"Our version of demons."

Victor leans forward. "So you are…."

For a moment, Yuuri looks cagey, as though he had said something he shouldn't have. Then, pushing at his glasses in a determined gesture, he nods slowly. "I'm half-youkai. Or to be more accurate, I'm carrying the burden of my family's curse."

"What do you mean?"

"One of my ancestors got so drunk that he ate all the offerings at a local Inari shrine. Tipped over the rice barrels, even. His insolence angered the fox youkai residing inside, so the Katsuki clan was cursed to forever bear sons with youkai blood in them."

"Wow," says Victor, eyes sparkling, mouth shaping into a heart, "That's the least tragic origin story I've ever come across!"

"Depends on your definition of 'tragic'," Yuuri's lips quirk slightly.

"What kind of youkai are you then?"

"Fox. It really only surfaces when I'm pushing my body past its limits, like when I'm in danger or in pain..."

"Or in battle?" Victor adds with great keenness.

"Yes." Yuuri bites on his lower lip, eyebrows furrowing. "So you're not… upset that I'm part youkai?"

"Not at all," Victor beams, "I think it makes you more special."

Yuuri stares at him for a second, before breaking out into a soft laugh. "You're the strangest demon hunter I've ever met."

Victor raises his flute of champagne, winking and treasuring the endearing blush that results. "I take that as a compliment."

Over the course of their meal together, Victor learns a great deal. He learns that, unlike their Western demon counterparts, youkai are spiritual beings and therefore require weapons blessed by a Shinto priest to kill them. Yuuri's own weapon is a blessed sansetsukon, or Japanese three-part spear, with modifications made to its original design. ("Three parts?" Victor gasps in delight while Yuuri smiles enigmatically.) He learns that the equivalent of a demon hunter in Japan is called a youkai exterminator, with the Youkai Exterminator Society functioning as the main organization governing all supernatural related activities in the country. The Saga branch is located in Hasetsu, though Yuuri apparently is not a member. ("I prefer freelance missions," Yuuri says simply before he changes the subject.)

On his part, Victor shares his background with Yuuri: of his family's history in demon hunting, of his own passion for the trade, of the assorted demons he has put away with Christophe. He feels so comfortable that he even opens up about his childhood for the first time, telling Yuuri how tedious he finds it that his peers admired him because of his mysterious nature, idolized him even, without any knowledge of his true self. The entire time, Yuuri listens with rapt attention, nodding and making soft noises of sympathy at all the right points.

Beautiful, warm, and brimming with an almost unearthly compassion: if Victor wasn't sure of his feelings for Yuuri before, he certainly is now.

And then, there's also Yuuri's battle persona – a side of the Japanese man that Victor is more than eager to experience again.

"Do you go on missions on your own?" Victor asks, popping in a small bite of the opera cake they decided to split together.

"I usually go with my partner," Yuuri replies, poking his fork into the cake.

Victor definitely doesn't like the sound of those last two words coming out of Yuuri's mouth, especially when they're not in reference to him. "The voice in the trees last night?" he asks casually.

"Yes, his name is Phichit," Yuuri smiles, and Victor frowns.

"That doesn't sound very Japanese."

"That's because he's from Thailand." Yuuri's nose scrunches in pleasure, fork still in his mouth. "This cake is really good."

"Yes it's not bad," Victor says dismissively. "So tell me more about Phichit. How did you meet?"

"We met in college when I went to America for an exchange program. He decided to come here after he graduated."

"Why's that?"

Yuuri is taking another bite of cake when he pauses for a second, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. In the short time that they have known each other, Victor recognizes the move as a telltale sign of burgeoning anxiety. "Something about Japan's supernatural phenomenon being more interesting, I think," the Japanese man mumbles, slipping the cake piece in his mouth.

"I see," Victor hums. "Are you lovers?"

Yuuri chokes.

Patiently, Victor waits for the coughing to subside.

"No," Yuuri gasps after a while, "We're just friends! Good friends, but friends."

"Ah," says Victor, face splitting into a megawatt smile. "Since we're on the subject, do you have a lover?"

Yuuri looks at Victor as if he has taken his clothes off and started doing the can-can in the middle of the restaurant. "No?" he says finally.

"Does the inflection at the end mean 'it's complicated' or you're unsure as to whether 'no' is the correct answer?"

"It means I was stunned by the question," Yuuri mutters, stuffing in a large mouthful of cake and endearingly smearing chocolate on the corner of his lips.

"So it's a no then," Victor clarifies, heart singing when Yuuri nods in response. (Perfect.) Gently, he reaches across the table to grasp Yuuri's chin and swipe his thumb across the chocolate stain. Yuuri's face blooms a dark shade of red then, and Victor lingers, taking the chance to stroke the flushed skin with his thumb, sliding deliberately across the plush bottom lip, before pulling back.

Yuuri's glasses have slid down his nose, eyelashes fluttering over large brown eyes.

"You had chocolate on the side of your mouth," Victor says belatedly.

"T-Thanks," the Japanese man murmurs, touching his lips with an almost reverent expression.

Victor chuckles, pleased to no end that he can have such an effect on the other man. "I'd love to join you on your missions, Yuuri, if you'll allow me."

"Oh," Yuuri flashes a look of surprise, "Are you sure? It's really quite different here. Too many hunters have lost their lives because of that."

"Then it's a good thing I'll have you by my side."

Yuuri flushes, lowering his head to push abashedly at his glasses. (Mentally, Victor adds another tally to his blush count.) "But doesn't your photo shoot end by lunch tomorrow? You must be leaving after, right?"

"Actually," Victor says, making a decision right then and there, "I'll be in Japan for a quite a while longer than I expected."

"For a new movie?" asks Yuuri, brightening.

That's right, what was it Phichit called him last night? Yuuri's 'idol'?

"Exactly! I can't tell you what it is, or it'd spoil the fun of watching it," Victor lies smoothly.

"All right, but you'll have to let me know when it's in theaters," Yuuri beams, so sweet and trusting, as if Victor hadn't fallen for him hard enough already. "About the missions, let me ask Phichit first. He'll probably be fine with you joining us, but I think it's the considerate thing to do."

"Of course." Smiling winsomely, Victor takes the last bit of cake, savoring the final taste of deliciousness for the night.

"I'm really glad you're staying," Yuuri says shyly then, eyes soft and soulful behind the spectacle lens.

This time, it's Victor's turn to choke.

Yakov is yelling at him, which isn't new, really.

The anger in the coarse voice practically sends vibrations through his phone, surging louder and louder with each shout.

It gets to the point where Victor puts the company president on speakerphone so he can preserve his abused eardrums.

"You're an international model and actor! I run one of the leading global agencies in the whole damn world! Why transfer to some unknown agency at some small country, to an even tinier, godforsaken town!? And to have the audacity to take your agent with you!"

"I've just fallen in love with Japan," Victor says cheerily.

"Japan? Japan? You're more likely to fall for some porn star boy toy called 'Japan'!"

"Just so you know," Christophe drawls, "'I'm in Japan right now' is going to have a whole new meaning for me."

As Yakov launches into several Russian expletives, Victor turns to the Swiss man, who's dressed in nothing but silk robes, lounging on the twin bed next to his. With Christophe's arrival, Victor had requested a change to a hotel room with two queen beds rather than a single king, and Christophe, naturally, had stripped before unpacking any of his suitcases.

"Helpful as always," Victor remarks with a grin.

"I try," Christophe shrugs, before he nods at the phone on the dressing table. "That poor man might just pass out if he doesn't take a breath."

" – I won't let you back again, Vitya; this time, you're out for good, and you can forget about me paying for your ridiculous hotel bills – "

Victor hangs up.

"How does that help?" Christophe chortles.

"It'll give him time to breathe," Victor says, picking up his phone, "Literally and figuratively."

"We're not going to be able to afford hotels for long, you know."

"We could if someone didn't blow our savings on firearms."

"Hey, no dissing my girls. They've helped us out of some tight spots."

Laughing, Victor leans back against the dresser, crossing his arms. He'll never understand Christophe's obsession with guns, much less his partner's insistence on referring to them as his 'girls'. "Anyway, I'll figure something out."

"As you always do." Christophe stretches languidly, the robes slipping off one shoulder in a lascivious manner. "So your boy's eyes were really gold in color?"

"Gold as a summer wheat field," Victor sighs with deep rapture.

"And it only showed in battle? Could be a sign of possession, no?"

"He says he's half so he's half," Victor says firmly. "Besides, he clearly retains memories of the night before, and – oh wait till you see him fight, Chris. Like an angel of death; a divine, bewitching angel of death. And then there's his alter ego: shy and sweet and oh-so-cute."

Christophe throws him a lazy grin. "Whatever you say, my love-struck friend. I'm just here to check out this youkai phenomenon."

Victor's phone chirps and a new message flashes across the screen: [Phichit says OK.]

The Russian hunter lights up.

He's going to be in Japan – the country – for a long, long while.

Notes

In this story, Western demons include vampires, werewolves, succubi, etc, that can only be hurt by silver, salt, or some other element. Youkai include all the assorted animal (kitsune, inugami, bakeneko), insect (tsuchigumo), human-like (yuki onna) spiritual beings with astral forms that only be hurt by blessed objects. I won't be using the exact youkai I've given as examples here, but I might use them as references.

Yes, Victor charged his romantic date with Yuuri on his company's account lol.

I'm trying something new: spelling Victor with a 'c' instead of a 'k', just to keep it consistent with the official name.