i) The Orphanage, and Before.

He hated the rain.

Rain, like the monsoon he'd been drenched in on that day, was too strong, too inconsiderate, never listened to a child's words—so he'd only welcomed it when one of the younger kids had run up to him, showing him the first brown leaf. Thinly veined and fragile, it had all but fallen apart when he'd brought it home to show their caretaker; it hadn't even made it past the front door.

Strangely enough, the brown patches looked like countries on a map, scattered across the sparse floor. There was probably some kind of deep meaning in there, somewhere, but he couldn't see it. To him, the broken leaf was nothing more than another thing to sweep up.

That was a few months ago anyways; he'd no idea why he'd remembered it.

Night time was annoying; without the sounds of his siblings playing, or the TV blaring its commentary on the most recent baseball match, or even the hum of traffic going by—then there was nothing to distract him from his thoughts. And memories of course, much like cigarette smoke, found its way into where it was most decidedly unwelcome.

Damned nostalgia—can't the rain stop already?

"Why are you so nice to them?" The question rang out from behind him, loud in the relative quiet of the children's breath; as far as the blonde could tell, it was Yuuichirou. Well, that was a welcome distraction, nonetheless.

Looking up from where he was fiddling with the strewn toys—his younger siblings hadn't exactly learned the meaning of neat, yet, and the room looked like a hurricane had comet through it, borne by twenty pairs of tiny hands—he tilted his head, considering the other boy. Yuu; more grumpy than most of the other kids, but there was nothing Mika could do about it; jokes had been a no go, and fistfights had only incited some kind of rivalry in the other boy. The dark-haired boy was the only one anywhere close to his age—which was a pity really, because he'd so wished the other boy had been a little bit more—friendly?

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he stood up, smile already ready on his face—and as warm as the autumn air would allow. Well, he could always put it down to sleepiness. Already 9pm, so really, he should be getting to bed soon. Ah, right: he hadn't answered the other boy's question yet.

"Not quite sure what you mean, Yuu." Probably wondering why he wasn't bitter over being in an orphanage of all places—personally, Mika loved the building, loved the people, despite the rather ragged nature of the place. Shrugging, he figured he would tell the truth. "I mean, it's nice here, and they're my family."

He watched the other boy warily; hopefully there wouldn't be any angry outbursts at this time. Mika welcomed a good brawl, but if he woke the others up, the caretaker would have his hide. Fortunately, all the other boy did was lean against the doorframe, brow furrowed in some inscrutable emotion.

Yuu was probably going to get wrinkles before he turned twenty, at this rate.

"That's exactly what I meant. They aren't actually—" Yuu rolled the word around in his mouth, tasting it, before continuing. "They aren't actually your family. Not by a long shot."

"Well, they are." Yuu opened his mouth to protest, an argument building, but Mika hurried on, speaking quickly to cut off the other mom's train of thought. "And anyways, even if you don't think so, the fact is that we're here, right now, so like." Don't be such a surly bastard went unsaid, but it was true enough.

Yuu huffed, annoyed by the blonde's apparent flippancy. "Seriously, I can't stand you," he said, but the words lacked the underlying resentment which tended to hide itself under every other sentence the boy said. Mika couldn't blame him: back then, in his own first week here, all he had done was cry. Kind of pathetic, but he'd been what? Eight?

Lasting into silence, making no move to answer the boy's statement, Michaela made to leave, heading towards his bedroom—and surprisingly, Yuu followed. Evidently he had the same idea: it was getting late, and school was tomorrow.

Fiddling with his school books, he glanced over at the other boy, who was sprawled across the lone spare mattress in the room.

Ah, right.

Another reason for the awkward silence: as usual, there weren't enough mattresses-not a problem in summer, somebody could always sleep on the floor-but in the dry winter weather, with autumn warmth all but faded, this meant that the two boys had to share a single bed.

He'd forgotten about that.

At least sharing a bed meant that there was some body heat, which was a welcome change from before. The children tended to gravitate to people their own age-which meant, despite being the older brother of just about everybody, he ended up sleeping alone. That is, until the grumpy boy beside him showed up.

In an attempt to make things a little less like one of those annoyingly loud sitcoms Akane loved, he tried to make light conversation. "It's getting pretty cold, don't you think?" The weather was always a safe topic, right?

"Well. Duh." Exhaling, Yuu pushed himself up and off the bed. Holding the thin cloth up to the light, he frowned. The light shone right through it, Mika knew; the cloth was just about the same thickness as the dishwasher cloth. If you took the same amount of fabric and made it into a blanket. "We should probably get at least one more blanket," Yuu said, and made to go out of the room.

"There aren't any."

"Oh." Even in the darkened light, the disappointment in Yuu's eyes was all too clear; Mika felt kind of bad for him. The other boy hadn't even been here long, and autumn was already here. For an orphanage funded by the Hyakuya sect—who, if the TV was to be believed, was absolutely swimming in money—the establishment was really, really sparse.

Case in point, they didn't have enough blankets; they were going to have to share one.

Sighing, Yuu sat back down, and resigned himself to fluffing up the pillows. "You've been here for a long time, haven't you?"

"Hm..Yeah, I guess so." Turning over, Michaela tried to fall asleep; difficult, since it was so chilly, but he had to try. Dark circles showed up extremely well on the boy's pale skin, courtesy of his foreign blood. Which sucked, to be fair.

"Do you ever. Like." Yuu paused, hesitated, before continuing. "Do you miss your parents?"

Mika turned the words over in his mind, wondering how much he should actually tell this stranger-yet-not. And how honest he should be; the compulsion to lie, minimise to set others at ease, was back again. But perhaps due to their proximity in age, the truth won out. "Sometimes, yeah." The words escaped soft, no more than a whisper. "But, Yuu, I've got my new family now."

Turning over, he caught the surprise in Yuu's eyes, a moment of understanding, before the dark haired boy shut his eyes, refusing to look at the blonde for a moment longer."That's…ridiculous. I'm going to sleep. Night."

But the murmured comment was slurred by drowsiness. For a moment, the blonde thought his newest sibling was going to struggle against him, that gruff nature of his as abrasive as ever—but for once, Yuu didn't push away. Mika took it as a sign, or a chance; leaning against somebody was at the very least, warmer.

"Hmm." Mika hummed to himself, smile curving its way across his features once again. "I'll get the lights, then."

ii) Sanguinem

It really wasn't meant to end like this. It wasn't.

It had been a perfect plan, wonderful, guaranteed to work-except that was what the vampires had wanted them to think all along. God, how did he fall for it; he should've been more suspicious, he should've been more wary, but but-

He hadn't realised that he'd been gambling with the lives of his siblings: that was it really. Despite being treated as no more than livestock, they'd had it nice down here; or he did, at the very least. God, to think that he'd thought Felid had even regarded him as an existence-!

"I look forward to seeing you cry all the more," rang the noble's voice behind him, but Mika stumbled blindly forward into the darkness, feeling his way along the subterranean passage. He'd tripped over littered cans, cut his bare feet on broken glass, the simple cloth shoes the barest cover doing nothing to stop the sharp edges, but fear kept him going forward.

Fear, and the knowledge that he was a failure.

He, and his family, had been nothing but toys, after all. Caught in a trap of honeyed existence.

He'd tried to sacrifice himself, tried to turn the barrel of the gun on Felid, but despite having half of his face blown off-Mika could still see the blood, the brain, splattening out onto stone floor-the vampire noble had continued laughing. The laughter had turned into a howl of pain instead, when Mika had managed to bite the man's hand, blunt human teeth nevertheless breaking skin. He hoped that gave him an infection, at the very least.

Not that that was likely, but it was the simple victories in life that made it worth living.

And the noble had turned, smirk stretching its was across his face unimpeded by the horrendous gash running down it, turned and went after Yuu instead.

And Mika had run, the coward that he was. Run as Yuu was set upon by the silver-haired man, his beloved brother disappearing behind him as Mika had darted into the tunnel, as fast as his miserable legs could take him. God! Yuu didn't even scream; he'd shouted for Mika to run instead, save himself, give up—and he'd called him brother.

Timing was a bitch.

When you came down to it, Michaela wasn't worthy of the title. Not anymore at least. Even a meagre few hours before, he would be proud of it, gloried in it-and now. Now the word tasted like ashes in his mouth.

The gun burned cold in his hand, whorls of gold and mother-of-pearl reflecting the sparse torches with their own watery light. The tunnel wasn't meant for human use, and it showed; he was stumbling blind, but he paid it no need. No matter how much he tried to ignore it, it had been his fault: too blind, too naive, too proud. The lack of clear vision his escape provided was just about fair enough. It suited his regret.

At some point, he tripped, fell, preparing for the scrape of concrete on bared knees—and fell onto grass. Snow—or sleet, really, long-melted into a blanket of grey—soaked into his clothes as he rolled over. He inhaled greedily, wishing that the grass underneath was exposed; there hadn't been any greenery down in the catacombs. Nothing grew there, fittingly enough.

And evidently the vampires had been lying; the city of Tokyo lay before him. "So, we-no, they. They died for nothing." His knees gave out. God knows how long he'd lain there, but even as dizzy as he was from the sheer euphoria of escape, there was the unmistakable crunch of boots on snow. Mustering his strenght, he looked up, preparing to fight for his life one last time-except no.

The man before him was, from the blunt teeth and ordinary appearance, human.

Which was impossible! The virus had ravaged all of Japan. Hell, he'd held onto his siblings hands as they made their way out of the plagued city, ignoring the pleas of adults for help as blood ran from just about every orifice. Sure, some survived, but they were all livestock, pets-wholly subservient to the vampires.

Yet the man before him, and his companions, all dressed in the same uniform, was proof positive of otherwise.

There were still humans.

Adults.

His siblings hadn't been the last bastion of humanity.

If they'd waited, they might not have died.

"Who the hell are you?" Scrambling away from man and his overly shiny boots, Mika bared his teeth in a snarl. "And more importantly, how are you not dead?" He was all too aware of how laughable he looked, clothes torn and too tired to do anything but scoot away on his rear end. Unmistakably, the man before him was definitely within range for the virus. He was also unmistakably alive.

The dark haired man before him arched a brow, smiling in a way that seemed to lure trust. "I might as well ask the exact same of you." He leaned forward, and Mika leaned away-the man had never heard of personal space, evidently. "You can't be a vampire, so…" The drawl trailed off, and he gazed at the blonde expectantly.

At that, Michaela laughed harshly, voice gone coarse from dehydration. "I'll much rather die, thanks." The man looked familiar, somehow. He'd probably seen him before, but that-that was maybe five years ago. The dark-haired man had been with one of the more kindly, and regular, visitors to the orphanage. Saitou, if he remembered correctly. "You still haven't answered my question," he said, finally. Somehow, he had the conviction that the man knew him, as impossible as it was.

"Guren Ichinose, of the Japanese Imperial Demon Army." He looked like he'd expected more of a reaction; there was no recognition in Mika's eyes. "And you're one of the orphans, aren't you?"

The only one remaining, he wanted to say; how the hell do you know, he wanted to ask, frustration bubbling, but instead he settled for a simple. "Yes."

"Finally showed up. I'd expected you to be sooner," Guren said, and extended a hand to the boy, still sat on the floor.

Mika had no idea what that meant, but raggedly, he took the proffered hand. He found it difficult to believe that there would be, of all people, a patrol right by the entrance-but there wasn't much alternative. Take the hand and be used once again; or refuse it and probably die from exhaustion and hypothermia.

It was an easy choice.

"Fine. I'll join you." After what had seemed like an age of indecision, or weakness, this was like a breath of fresh air. Gritting his teeth, he stood up. "But-and promise me this-the head of Felid Bathory is mine."

Revenge was the least he could do. He'd promised Yuu that much.

(iii) Dissapointment, Really

Take the sword, Shinoa had said, but Michaela was starting to think that his classmate-slash-recruiter was just about the last person on earth to have his best interests at heart.

"So you would kill somebody who looks like your beloved brother?" The demon's voice was an abomination, the drawl unnatural in Yuu's voice. It dodged every blow, and for all the monsters Mika had fought outside, fought using a normal blade much like this one, the blonde's strike simply couldn't find its target.

"Do you..do you think I care?" His voice trembled, shook, and gained strength as he flailed at the figure before him; he'd given up on grace, now. Absently, he wondered if outside, his body was doing the same thing. Still, he gritted his teeth and moved forward; God take him if he lost to some piece of metal lying cold and discarded on the floor.

"Liar, liar." A child's rhyme; and wholly unfitting. "But of course, you're a liar, aren't you, Mika?"

"They're dead, gone, so if you would. Please. Stop. Making. A mockery of my beloved family, we'll see if we can work something out." That stupid way of speaking was back again, and no matter how hard he tried, Mika couldn't help but make everything sound like a question, a plea. Leftover from the days underground, maybe. From days when everything was a plea for life, and the outside.

If he'd known how hollow the outside was, he might as well have remained as livestock.

The blade connected for a moment, and the demon blinked, smiled, and—

The shape before him blurred, shifted, features growing waxy, melting, and—

—And it was terrifying, seeing the faces of his family distorting like a funhouse mirror, or cathedral candles; but his nightmares had worse.

The demon turned into Felid first, the cat-like grin that had jarred like a crime against nature on Yuu's face all too right on the noble's. Inhaling, Michaela punched the figure, laughter bubbling. All the frustration he'd held since that day felt release.

It missed.

Too slow, too slow; but apparently the monstrosity had enough—good. That was good. He didn't want to know what the dark-haired figure that stood before him now, the demon's actual form, slight, near elfin, would do to play with him any further. The seemingly-endless game was growing old, fast, and the sentiment seemed to be shared by the demon.

"It's you?" The demons voice was, despite its cheerful lilt and high pitch, strangely disappointed.

"Who were you expecting?" The blonde laughed, a bark of mirth echoing the fast-fading memories of his father: a rough man, gruff. Michaela needed it now. After all, the memory of stubble scraping across young cheeks could barely compete with the gravel of the tunnel, the peeling blisters from bared feet running desperate from—something. Sometimes he couldn't believe it had been near five years. Felt like sooner, felt like yeasterday. "I'm sorry I'm no knight in shining armour."

It grinned, mouth full of teeth so sharp they seemed to be able to cut the illusory world he was trapped in. "Somebody more impressive," it said, gesturing to the blonde.

"I can say the same for you," he said, sitting down on the floor in a display of mock-arrogance. Resolve returning, he sat down, looking up at the slight figure. "Nobody's chosen you, so really. You should be more thankful. Or do you want to stay here, cold and forgotten?" Grinning, his voice trailed off in a slight drawl.

"Easy for you to say that, little boy dropped out of a car, left to wander in the rain," teased the demon, but an edge had crept into its stance; hands no longer held loosely at the sides, the dark-haired figure was shifting its weight from foot-to-foot, clearly impatient. "Just give in already, will you?"

"Well…" Mika considered the figure before him, before advancing once again. "Don't need to listen to the words of some unwanted dregs." Maybe he was laying it on a little thick, but it was nothing more than the sword-spirit deserved.

Arrogant bastard.

God, he wondered what Yuu would've said to the demon's taunts; maybe he would've fallen for it, that overly passionate boy. Although there no use in thinking about that; he was dead, gone, and Mika was going to see the world burn for it.

"Do we have a deal, then?"

It spat at him, and the white world started breaking down around him, falling apart like some sandcastle in the rain. "My name is Ashuramaru, boy, and it would do you well to remember it."

So, yes, I suppose?

Mika sighed, sat up, all too aware of his protesting muscles and with a clear sense of having stared down a shark's nose-snout?-and somehow won. Blinking, he made out a dark figure leaning nonchalantly against the wall, hand resting on the hilt of his sword as always. Sometimes Mika felt like Guren had an obsession with his blade that bordered on the creepy. He wouldn't be surprised. Every commanding officer needs a few quirks, after all.

Raising his voice ever so slightly-Yoichi was still unconscious, and it showed; Kimihiro seemed lost in his thoughts somewhere in the distance; and Shinoa was lingering near the door, pretending not to see him-Mika called out to the other. "Oi. Guren."

"Mika," he said, nodding in his direction. He made no move to approach the blonde: evidently the colonel wanted Mika to get up instead. Well too bad; the blonde wasn't going anywhere. When it became clear that Mika intended to stay where he was thank you very much the floor is very nice and I don't plan on leaving it, Guren spoke. "Good to see you aren't dead."

"You saved my life; the best I can do is to give you my loyalty." Whatever meagre offer that was, at the very least. Oh, Mika could admit that Guren was better than most of the humans here, who, despite their freedom, never made anything of themselves, didn't feel the need to take back their world-but that didn't mean that the blonde actually enjoyed his company, no. "And not die because of some stupid demon," he finally added, a little more terse than intended.

"Is that all?" Dark eyes boring into his own, Mika found himself averting the colonel's gaze.

Asshole. He could give a little more than that. "Well. There isn't really anybody to watch my back except you," he said. "What, are you holding out on me seeing you as a father figure, or something?"

"What about your team?" he asked, arching a brow. "They're meant to watch your back. They're you family, after all."

That seemed to strike a chord, and Mika gave a humourless chuckle. "You're joking, right?" Perhaps he was close to the others, but it was too much to expect these-children to empathise with him. There was no other word for it, not when they hadn't felt the pain of captivity like he had. "Fine. There's them."

Perhaps he was unnecessarily cold to them, but Mika simply didn't care. Yuu was the only thing worth saving; the rest was a nice bonus.

Honestly: he would damn the world to get his brother back, safe and sound.

He said as much; and Guren left the room, complaining of a headache.

Well, that was mature.

iv) Tokyo

Humid, the sweltering heat of Tokyo in the summer was downright unbearable after what had been an exceedingly fine Spring. Which only goes to show how quickly things change. The sweat was practically rolling off his back, at this point.

They were nice enough, his team, but some seemed to find him—unsettling. Or disappointing, in Shinoa's case; the strange girl seemed to expect more of him than what she'd seen, and it showed. Although that rather...open campfire moment had helped; Kimizuki had his own resilience, he would give that much. And Yoichi's story echoed far too much of his own.

They still shifted awkwardly at his tales of Sanguinem, however.

He didn't blame them. In their place, he would, too.

That, however, was all just a distraction, wandering off from the here and now-and the impossible existence before him. "You're alive, Yuu? You're-" he spluttered, before falling silent from the sheer weight, and sheer riducule of the situation.

A vampire.

It was unbelievable. Maybe something out of a Greek tragedy, or some kind of twisted dystopian novel. On opposing sides, and quite possibly, possible fratricide; the next greatest blockbuster, in some other world. Treated as cheap entertainment-although, given the spectacle a certain vampire was treating it with, it might as well have been. That Yuu, who'd sworn to kill every single last one of them, who'd believed so strongly in his will, and whos resolve had been the one to drive Mika forward, was here.

"Yuu?" Shouted across the expanse of a battlefield, it might as well have been across an abyss; that was just about how far the divide seemed to separate the two brothers. "Yuu, I-" The words caught in his throat, and he leaned forward, reaching an arm out to his brother-who was crouched at the side of his former tormentor, clad in white and stark against the greys and reds of the burning city.

There was symbolism, somewhere, in there but he couldn't see it.

The wound Ashuramaru has left, a gaping hole in reality and reason, oozed blood weakly, the flesh already closing up. Against the white uniform Yuu was clad in, it was an affront.

"Mika, Mika, you're alive, you're fine, you're-"

In his memories, Yuu had always kept that same damned stone-face, always the optimist, always the forward marching soldier. Except he was crying now; hell, his brother probably believed the damned bloodsuckers, with their sweet lies and silver tongue—but god help him, he expected more.

Perhaps it was the shock, but the lightest sheen of betrayal crept into the predominant disbelief, casting a grey tinge over everything he'd done and said up to this point. It was only by sheer luck that he hadn't activated the curse.

Sheer bloody-headed luck.

Yuu had stood up now, but Mika couldn't make out what the other boy was saying-too far, and all too human, the expanse swallowed all the words the'd tried to hurl across.

No help for it. It was his brother.

Mika shook off Shinoa's hand on his arm, eyes set forward-and sword held tightly in his grasp. Yuu might be there, his beloved brother, his deluded yet still beloved and painfully, or fortunately, alive brother; yet so was Felid. And the vampire noble's playful voice was a shiver against skin, a reminder of twelve-year old weakness. And naïveté.

"Yuu, how can you work with them?" The words came out too harsh. "With him?" Of all people, for his brother to deign to work with Felid Bathory of all people-Said vampire was grinning, lips moving in a silent litany—Mika had seen it too often, knew what the noble was saying. Too rich, too rich. As if this was some sick entertainment for the pale haired man. Of course, given the sheer decadence of the vampires, he wouldn't be surprised.

"I'm not." The hatred for vampires, at least was still there. Yuu's eyes were hard, flashing, and he lifted his hand off the wound to show a healed over patch of flesh, flawless. "Don't you dare say that, don't you dare." Hurt was clear in his brother's voice, and possibly, fear as well.

Unfortunately, Mika had long ceased to put faith in words; they were meaningless, after all. "Well it sure looks like it." Emotion had all but fled, the mass of emotions which had boiled, overflowing, gone still as some lake. "Dear brother, you're all but in bed with him." The words were laced with venom far more potent than any engineered monster could inflict.

And for all that Mika had pretended to be aloof from the darkened days in Sanguinem, the vampire's drawl, his casual disregard for anything resembling morals-mimicry of Felid Bathory's manner had become his instinctive defense.

As he watched the colour spring to his brother cheeks, temper rising, dully, Mika wondered if he really should have been the one on the other side instead.

v) and it falls apart

"God, you can't die now, you can't just disappear like that, not when I've just got you back, and-!"