The school's outside door locks weren't much harder to get past than the classroom doors. A careful jiggle in the early morning light, and Akira was in.

Careful. If the goblin catches you, he'll probably throw you in detention again for wanting to be at school.

Not that he wanted to. He'd thought Sunnydale was just shadowed. But Shirogane was shadow, all the mischief and surprise and danger of what you didn't know was hidden in the dark. Sunnydale was something else.

Bones in the night, still wet with blood.

But at least there was someone doing something about it.

"Shin and rei don't usually tamper with Hellmouths," Shirogane had told him. "There are other creatures who try to keep them under control. One of the most effective organizations at limiting the damage is human. They call themselves the Watcher's Council. Their current representative in Sunnydale is an old contact of Shuichi's; though he only knows Master as an adept who studies shadows, not a rei. His name is..."

Akira ghosted inside the library, making his way through the stacks toward the scent of tea growing cold. "Mr. Giles?"

The librarian glanced up from a sheaf of stapled photocopies, glasses glinting in the early light. "Akira Nikaidou?" He even pronounced it correctly. "Wagatsuma-san said you might be stopping by. Something about a bit of local trouble with an unwelcome neighbor?"

"That's one way to put it-" Akira cut himself off mid-gripe, registering the title of the article under Giles' hand. "'The unholy spark; galvanic stimulation of technically deceased motor neurons as potential necromantic component'? Fortean Electromagnetics - there's a journal? We had to look for rumors of ghosts and hope we got lucky..."

Necromancy. That's magic with the dead. Animating skeletons. Zombies. Ghouls.

Akira leaned on one of the sturdier bookshelves, hoping he didn't look as pale as he felt. "Body parts. Necromancy and science. You have a Frankenstein."

Giles almost whistled. "Do you know, I'd begun to despair of hearing anyone use that name accurately. On this continent most people seem to connect the name from Mary Shelley's sensational account with the monster, not the creator." The librarian's gaze sharpened. "How did you know about the body parts?"

This isn't going to be easy. "Master Wagatsuma said it was better if I didn't call the police," Akira said cautiously.

"Unfortunately, I have to agree with him." Giles sipped his tea, only a slight squinch around his eyes registering that it'd gone quite cold. "I doubt many of them are actively corrupt, but - the majority of people will find the most mundane explanations for unusual events. Wild dog attacks in the principal's office. Sudden cataract onset in a healthy teenager." The librarian's eyes narrowed. "Gang members on PCP."

"PCP doesn't make you explode into dust," Akira pointed out.

"So I've heard." Behind glass lenses, blue eyes weighed him. "What do you think you saw?"

"He had fangs," Akira said levelly. There was no point in getting angry over being tested. Not until after he had answers. "He didn't have a reflection. He asked for an invitation to come into our house, before he grew a demon-face and tried to tear my throat out. He was stronger than anything human, and he turned to dust when I put a wooden spoon between his ribs. I'd call that a vampire. What do you call it?"

For a moment, Giles sat very still. One brow went deliberately up. "A spoon."

He's looking at my hands, Akira realized. Why?

"And you say the vampire asked for an invitation into your house," the librarian went on. "I've spoken to a press person about those remains." His voice gained an edge, like Shirogane about to transform his cane into a lethal blade. "They were certainly not discovered near your house."

He's protecting someone. And it's definitely not me.

Which made sense. Unfortunately. Akira sighed. "So Principal Snyder already warned you about me."

Giles sat up in his chair. "I beg your pardon?"

"You don't have to." Akira tried not to be bitter. "The vampire was pretending to be another student. Sunnydale has problems with insane people trying to mess with the supernatural. And I have a record." At least part of which had been honestly earned; he was supernatural trouble. If only because Homurabi's shin had been after Ryuuko. "He may be an evil goblin, but the principal would be failing his students if he didn't protect them from people like me."

The librarian blinked at him, aghast.

Sorry, Master. I don't think I'm going to find help here.

He was surprised how much that hurt. Not because he'd trusted strange teachers; he didn't. But he'd trusted Shuichi. The rei might not tell him all of the truth, but he'd never lied. And he'd never been this wrong.

So, what did you expect? Akira reminded himself. You're the foreigner here. Hellmouth. Sunnydale has enough of its own problems.

Well. At least he could avoid adding to them. "I saw them in a dumpster after detention," Akira stated. "They were already dead, and I wasn't sure who'd left them, or if that person who was responsible for the cutting-" gah, you had to be a lot more circuitous to get that across in English, "-would be back. So I just got out of there." He weighed his options, decided on careless punk. "Should I bother showing up for class, or just head out while you write me up for Snyder?"

"Write you up for-!"

It was more of a choked noise than words. Akira shifted his weight, ready to dodge, toss salt, or throw a punch. The last time he'd heard that much suppressed fury in a voice, he'd had to drag a kokuchi out of yet another possessed victim.

Shin can drag them out. I can't. I'd have to beat it out of him. And hope it let go before I killed him.

"Young man, Principal Snyder is many things, but a responsible guardian of the lives within these walls?" Giles harrumphed. "I assure you, that he is most definitely not."

So... not possessed. Just seriously ticked off. Thank Amida. "So who keeps the Hellmouth from opening and eating the rest of the world?" Akira shot back.

There was a rueful flicker in blue eyes, as if the librarian had realized he'd just walked into that one. "I suppose that responsibility would be mine."

Wagatsuma, what on earth have you dropped in my lap? Giles wondered, as Akira disappeared out the library door. Heading for homeroom, the Watcher hoped. That threat to just leave school had been all too casual, and apparently the young man was in enough trouble with Snyder already.

He needed information, dash it all. Yet much would simply have to wait until the latest crisis was past and he could call at an hour a supposedly innocent Japanese bartender would have free. Wagatsuma's message had been necessarily short and vague; one simply did not leave incriminating details about the supernatural on an answering machine.

"Good evening, Giles. I've just found out that a young friend of mine has moved into your town. He's already had one close encounter with a local in your area of study. There was a spoon."

Which had been an utterly odd detail for his old acquaintance to include, Giles had thought on first listening to it. Why on earth mention a spoon, of all things? Though, given what he knew about vampires and their demons' tendency toward sadistic torture - oh, dear Lord, the possibilities had been chilling.

Well. Indeed there had been a spoon. And not at all in any way he would have expected-

No, that wasn't quite true. Before he'd known Buffy, and her unorthodox use of everything from No. 2 pencils to Exacto knives, he would have been surprised. Even, perhaps, a bit offended; the Council trained Watchers and Slayers to slay, not to improvise.

Now he was only relieved. And perhaps a bit tickled. Oh, to have seen the look on that vampire's face.

"I've advised him to speak with you," the healing adept had gone on. "Please look after him; he is a good friend, and someone to whom I am deeply indebted. He was badly injured by something in my area of study a few months ago, and he is not yet as recovered as I would like. You may have to sit on him."

Given Wagatsuma's area of supernatural expertise were the little-known spirit-monsters of Light and Shadow some Europeans called mares or moroi, that was daunting in itself. They were possessing entities, creatures that could unlock the darkest desires in a human soul and set it loose without any reins of morality. Even a Slayer might not survive an encounter with a moroi in one piece.

Then again, Buffy was no ordinary Slayer. And her friends had certainly proven that a quick and lucky teenager might survive perils a trained Council Watcher would hesitate to face. Giles might not consider Akira lucky, anyone who'd already drawn Herr Fuehrer Snyder's attention had obviously run short on luck of the fortunate kind, but the young man was quick.

Let's hope he's sensible as well.

For that, the Watcher meant to cross his fingers and pray. Their would-be Frankenstein had to be his first priority.

And the fact that Akira had identified their suspect as that, instead of one of the nigh-innumerable man-eating demons out there, was pause for serious thought.

"Frankenstein?" Giles had asked, setting the article aside.

"They were cut up, not consumed," Akira had replied. "Bakeneko eat the whole corpse, and impersonate the body. Kamitachi steal your liver and leave you walking around alive, for a while. Kelpies and other river monsters tend to eat your face or suck out your internal organs. Man-eating warehouses leave hair and bloody clothes behind." The young man had shrugged. "I don't know what else is out there. But everything I do know - there were too many pieces. Or too few."

Concisely reasoned, Giles thought now. A researched answer, from a young man who radiated as much lethality as Buffy surrounded by arrogant jocks. A teenager who paid attention to details, even in the wake of nearly being consumed by a creature of the night modern life swore was a myth. Paid attention, remembered, and reported; even details as unbelievable as a journal article on necromancy, or a spoon turned deadly weapon. Something Wagatsuma had apparently intended him to notice. Very, very interesting-

"Giles!" Buffy, storming through the door with a stake already flipped up against her wrist, as if she expected the Anointed One and his minions to be pouncing in blackout garb. "Are you okay? I saw that new kid sneak out of here, I told you he gave me a wiggins-"

"And you were quite correct," Giles nodded gracefully. Buffy was usually quite busy enough picking out the undead by the fashion disasters; any attention she could give toward sharpening a Slayer's sense of the mystical should be recognized. "Akira has indeed dealt with the supernatural in the past. Fortunately, someone I trust has vouched that he was a victim of certain creatures, not tainted himself."

White knuckles relaxed on her stake. A little. "Creatures?"

"There are many names for them, but the most accurate, I think, are Shadowfolk and Lightfolk," Giles summed up. "I can give you more details tonight; I should refresh my memory on the lore anyway. For now - Akira knows vampires exist, he knows a Watcher is keeping tabs on the Hellmouth, and he's stated that he plans to go home after school and start crafting some preliminary protections to encourage the local nightlife to look elsewhere. He does not know of the Slayer, or your friends."

"Protections?" His Slayer frowned. "You never said anything about protections."

"They're relatively minor charms; more folk blessings than any true magic, meant to misdirect predatory attention from a home rather than provide active defense," Giles sighed. "I'm afraid a Slayer's innate power is far too much to hide in such a manner..."

Buffy had made the stake vanish completely, gaze half-angry, half-pleading.

"But Willow and Xander are not Slayers," the Watcher belatedly realized. "Yes, of course. I'll walk you all through the ritual as soon as the supplies arrive."

"Best Watcher ever," Buffy smiled up at him. Glanced over her shoulder, as if she could see through walls to wherever Akira had gone. "Wait. If it wouldn't help a Slayer anyway, why were you getting the stuff?"

"Exorcising salt has many more uses than simple wards," Giles noted. "Properly applied to that infernal scanner, it might well have nipped that Moloch mess in the bud-"

The warning bell rang.

"Buffy!" He held up two fingers before she could dash out the door. "I don't yet know why, but Akira believes Snyder may have some clue that the supernatural exists."

"The troll? You've got to be kidding." Buffy shook her head in disbelief. "Okay, crazy as it sounds, we should probably poke that once we get assemble-a-girl stopped. What's behind door number two?"

"If Akira is ever turned, break out the crossbow," Giles said grimly. Thinking of a misspent youth on the streets with dark magic, and a young man's all-too-familiar callus and scars. "He's a knife fighter."

Maybe it's not being a foreigner, Akira thought glumly, using the pre-game crush to sneak past the gorilla thugs before he struck out into Sunnydale's streets again. Maybe it's just me.

He'd never been fond of sports back in Japan, though watching Aya take kenjutsu instruction had been oddly interesting. But since the night he'd fought back to back with Shirogane until dawn... sports just didn't seem to matter. He could see the frantic energy of everyone getting ready for the game. He could hear the rush and chatter of gossip that marked who was in and who was out, and in was definitely those rooting for the Razorbacks. He could observe it all, a mass of humanity coming together with one common purpose, just like Japan.

He just couldn't feel it.

Better look average in gym class. Hell, I should look clumsy if I can, Akira thought bitterly. If some idiot coach shoved me onto a field with a swarm of foaming jocks, someone would get hurt.

And he was bound and determined it wouldn't be him.

Akira stopped on a street corner, checking he still had hours of afternoon light before he grimaced and thumped his fist against his forehead. Am I crazy? Do I want a fight?

Impossible. Shirogane might say he did, but he'd been in enough combat to know nobody sane went looking for mortal peril. If running away would solve the problem, you ran. Hopefully dragging along any other idiots who'd gotten themselves mixed up in the shadow-mess with you. If running wouldn't solve the problem...

Well. There was a reason he was avoiding the idiots. At least until the new kid label had some time to wear off. If he could rebuild his reputation as cool and aloof before anyone jumped him, he'd have tilted the social battleground in his favor. Three thugs jumping on the new kid, no matter how well he came out, would solidify the mob decision that he was a target. Three thugs jumping the cold loner and getting their asses handed to them would pretty much ensure the rest of the school year passed with minimal violence.

Somehow, the fact that he knew that was even more depressing than a dumpster full of body parts.

First things first, Akira told himself, unlocking his front door. He stood by the threshold a moment, just listening, in case something other than a vampire had managed to find its way into their house. At least Mom hasn't clued in that Sunnydale High doesn't have afterschool clubs like they do in Tokyo. I should have enough time to ward the house and wrestle with my homework-

There was a quiet sklorch inside.

In the kitchen.

Backpack set silently on the floor, Akira crept inside, saltbox in hand. He didn't see anything, nothing smelled out of place-

Sklorch.

He knew that sound.

Akira dropped into a crouch, edging up to the counter that marked off the kitchen from the dining room. Ducked his head under linoleum, and looked.

A mist-pale creature, no bigger than a squirrel, stood on its haunches as it dipped claws and beak into a spot of darkness hanging in midair.

By the stove. That's where I fought the vampire. The boundary between light and shadow must have weakened overnight. Enough to tear.

With every sklorch, the tear shrank; as if the white beak were patient rain on sand.

"Hakua," Akira breathed, as pupil-less blue eyes turned toward him, then back to its work. Good. Hakua didn't attack humans, not unless they were already possessed. They were creatures of light, like rei, mending this side of the world. It probably wouldn't even notice him again, unless he did something stupid. Give it a few hours to work, and the kitchen would be safe.

But it's so small.

Can I do it? Should I even try? I've read Shuichi's instructions, and I did it with Shirogane... when I was a shin. I can't handle anything serious now. A human can't channel that much energy.

But this one wasn't serious. Just a slice of shadow in the air, thin as a pen and not much longer.

Akira breathed deep, and sighed. Took out a pinch of salt, and rubbed it between his palms. Dropped to one knee, itching hands flat against the floor, on the opposite side of the tear from the hakua.

"Our hands are the healers of zero..."

It was like trying to comb away mist. His head throbbed, caught in the vice of a concentration headache. Where his knee touched the floor ached, as if he were leaning on solid ice.

"Light must stay in light, and dark in dark..."

He gritted out more words, not sure if they were the right ones; he couldn't make them out past the blood drumming in his ears. Maybe this hadn't been a good idea-

His ears popped. Dazed, Akira blinked, and worked his jaw to make sure he could hear again. It's gone.

The hakua was still circling the spot where the world had torn, as if the reptilian creature couldn't believe the tear was closed. Hissed, and shook itself, turning-

Expressionless blue eyes met his.

It won't attack, Akira told himself. There's no tear, hakua won't go wild unless the darkness is already dangerously strong-

It sniffed him, long and deep as a lion drawing in the scent of blood.

"Shin."

Turned, and faded away like mist.

Akira pulled his aching body off the floor, absently gesturing his knives away. He wasn't a shin. How had the hakua even said that, anyway? It wasn't as if they had lips. It hadn't even been a sound; more like a concept, a glint of light on the scaffold of an idea. So maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him...

I had my knives out.

His palms were still red. The scars itched, like he'd been handling something covered in ancient dust.

Shaken, Akira flexed his fingers, as if pulling steel from thin air.

Soothing cool spread with the sudden weight in his hand, the burning itch quenched by the heft of razored shadows.

Humans balance light and shadow. Akira dismissed the knife again, noting how the itching had dimmed to a nagging ache. Warding the house is going to be more annoying than I thought.

Which brought to mind a certain shin's smile, and those idiotic words about wanting to fight.

Grrr. Akira picked up the box of salt, and took out a folded sketch of the house floorplan. He'd already worked out where he thought would be the best places to site the wards to protect the house with a minimum of disturbance. Better to check his plan one more time, so he could get it over with.

If this is going to be as annoying as lacquer rash, I only want to do it once.

In the morning haze, Sunnydale High smelled like smoke.

Akira ghosted into the library, heading back into the stacks. Technically the high school wouldn't be open for at least another half-hour. But given Shuichi's habits at his bar when the kokuchi were particularly bad- yes. There was the librarian, head bent over a book, half a breath from napping.

"You smell like smoke."

"Good lord!" Giles shot up straight in his chair, almost knocking a binder off his desk as he turned to glance at the offending teenager. "A bit of noise when you walk, perhaps?"

"Noise gets you caught by bald goblins," Akira smirked. "One of the buildings out back looks like it burned down. And you smell like smoke."

"The old science lab," Giles informed him. "Yes, it did. A bit nerve-wracking at the time, but I suppose it's all for the best-"

"What happened?"

...Damn it. He was supposed to be cold and aloof, Akira reminded himself. He wasn't supposed to care. Getting through the school year in one piece might depend on it.

But it's like seeing shin. Once you realize something so obscure exists - you can't stop seeing.

Giles leaned back in his chair, one finger tapping idly on a page. "I suppose there's no harm in telling you..."

Akira listened. And blanched. And wondered how much Giles was glossing over with I helped some students pull people out of the fire. Amida save him, if he died he was going to haunt people until his body was safely cremated. "You mean those homicidal maniacs are going to be coming back to class like nothing happened?"

"Hmm, not quite. Eric will be out a few days due to smoke inhalation-"

Akira upped the intensity of his glare.

Giles stopped. Polished his glasses a moment, and put them back on with an air of utter seriousness. "Whatever they may have attempted to do, neither Chris nor Eric has actually taken a life. What evidence we have of what they did do went up in smoke last night. The fire marshal has only found remnants that indicate someone tampered with bodies previously deceased; not, I should say, the most pressing of crimes to solve. And I assure you Miss Chase will not be pressing charges. While she is well aware of the malevolence of the Hellmouth, her family is not, and they will avoid anything so plebian and uncouth as pursuing a matter of mere criminal mischief. It would be, after all, one teenager's word against another's, and investigating would force the local police to look into matters their very instinct for survival warns them away from. Best to - er - let sleeping corpses lie."

"Unbelievable." Akira scrubbed knuckles across his forehead, as if he could wipe away the casual acceptance of evil that implied. "I'm going to have to sit next to these idiots in class and do nothing? No wonder Principal Snyder is out to expel anyone he can, if these are the people he can't."

Considering him, Giles pushed the chair back and stood. "What on earth makes you believe Snyder knows about any of this?"

You can see it in his eyes. You can see the darkness in his shadow. "He knows," Akira said flatly. "He hates this place. He hates everyone here he deals with. He hates the fact that he can't throw me out because he hasn't caught me doing anything yet. When people hate that much..."

They're just asking for a parasite kokuchi to move in. All that darkness in their hearts - brrr.

Like it or not, he'd better start patrolling Sunnydale for tears. There was no way he was going to put his life and sanity on the line to drag a kokuchi out of Snyder.

"He hates this school, but he's still here," Akira finished. "No one who hates everyone around them this much would stay in this town without a good reason."

"Indeed," Giles mused. "So why are you here?"

"Luck." Akira glanced over the librarian's desk, looking for any clues about what else might be roaming Sunnydale's night. "All of it bad..."