o.O.o.O

infectiO+n

Uchiha Sasuke X Uzumaki Naruto, Uzumaki Naruto X Uchiha Sasuke bias. Shounen-ai and yaoi—don't like, don't read, don't cry.

darkenedmoonlightflame

[Alternate Universe. Yaoi. Vampirism. "Once he's touched you, the infection—the madness, too—spreads, spreads…" (Uchiha Sasuke is a psychotic boy hung up on the past, cursed with a rare disease that forces upon him sudden cravings for blood. Uzumaki Naruto is simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. And now, regrettably, it seems that Sasuke has taken an interest in him…) [SasuNaruSasu.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, and do not claim to. However, everything else, AKA: the writing, (most of) the (nearly-cliché) plot, et cetera, IS MINE.

(A/N: Sorry that Sasuke isn't totally psychotic yet. I'm sure you've all been looking forward to it. (laughs) On a side note, I know nothing of medical protocol. So forgive me, or please correct me.

(...I really should wait until I finish the third chapter to post, but... (closes eyes, pushes the buttons) I-can't-seeeeee-it!

(So, presenting, infectiO+n, part two.)

infectiO+n

part

2/x

Amongst the smoke, he can see the lights. Red and blue, chasing one another in an endless circle, neutralized by the dull white glow emanating from the flashlights in the distance. There is a man standing at his side, but he is inattentive, jovial and eagerly busying himself with a little orange book. His hands are scarred, Sasuke sees. Scarred and experienced; he's had a tough life, maybe one on the streets. Sasuke can't be sure.

Startlingly-instantaneous, the man looks up. His uniform is rumpled from the lengthy chase, and his cap in disarray. The surgical patch on his left eye is off-centered, and his little grin is lopsided beneath the dark gray turtleneck he's wearing. "Having fun?"

Sasuke snarls, "Let go of me!"

"Technically, this is a look-ma-no-hands kind of encounter, kid." He is right. Sasuke's mouth curls into an ugly glower, and his arms tense unstably. His wrists are bound, shackled into a pair of ordinary handcuffs. It's ridiculously degrading, he thinks, anger slipping into his narrowed eyes. His limbs shift, shaking with nothing akin to fear. 'Wait, fool.' The silver-haired man returns to his reading, totally immersed.

'Now.' Experimentally, Sasuke tries to rotate his arms, shoulders, fingers, wrists… contorting and forcing the steel into unusual angles.

Nothing works.

More lights, and then he sees him. It's a boy, followed by two others, rushing out of the driver's seat of an ambulance. He's disorderly and blond, average height, with beautiful eyes. It's superficial to be so captivated, Sasuke knows, but for a second, he forgets to breathe, forgets to work against his restraints. It's been a long time since he's seen something so vibrant...! Sasuke's used to white, and this boy defies that. But then it all comes rushing back, and he's lashing out despite his disadvantaged position, snapping out a good, vicious stream of kicks at the unconcerned policeman.

The oddball giggles a bit, flushed reddish and leering at his book, his free hand half-heartedly waving aside roundhouses and straight-aways and hazy outbursts of raw emotion. Sasuke is furious. Simply furious. This man's very presence is wishy-washy, crude, and subject to much loathing.

His train of thought is intercepted by a loud cry. "Kakashi-sensei!"

A sharp pain at his temple; his vision goes dark.

a+o-b+b-o+a-

The first thing that Naruto notices is that the mansion is huge. It spans nearly two entire city blocks and is a magnificent example of traditional Japanese architecture. It isn't particularly tall, but what it lacks in stature it makes up in artistry. The building itself is very well-rounded, complete with multiple annexes and large, open grassy courtyards. It looks to have been made from a blend of stone and oak, combined into harshly-geometric angles.

The screens are rice paper, in one particular screen's cross-sections, Naruto can see beautiful portraits and inky sketches that draw forth an appreciative ache from within him. They've been drawn with a peculiar precision, an indescribable coldness. They're flawless, and yet Naruto can't help but dislike the monotonous feel he gets from the perfection.

Encompassing the residence is a lawn that is dominated by lush gardens, plotted out asymmetrically. Every single square inch of grass is filled with beauty, whether it is willowy trees and thin trellises or crimson bridges or splotches of pastel and neon blooms. Flowers, flowers…! Everywhere, they've managed to spring up and mingle into a blend of soft petals.

The second thing he notices is the fire itself. A monumental blaze, engulfing the right wing, at the far right. It's close to the forest. Maybe that's why the emergency units are so frantic. This mess has some ugly potential.

Third: at the gates, a sign. The Uchiha Estate, it reads, 1759—1804 (built in the times before the turbulent reformation of Japan). Its occupants were an esteemed family of nobles, all of whom perished in an unfortunate event of arson. The manor has recently been restored to its former glory as…

Fourth: beside the sign, officers and rose bushes stand, side by side. As soon as Naruto sees the blue uniforms, he begins to worry. Sure, Sakura had sounded stressed out when she'd phoned in to report and ask for assistance, but… If it's just a big fire, what's the use in having the police authorities here?

From the corner of his eye, he catches the flare of something metallic. Grayish-silver, like… His eyes widen, and right away, he's unbuckling himself and bolting out the door. "Oi, watch it, Naruto!" Shikamaru is left to catch the wheel and hurl the three of them into the clutches of a violent stop. And then he too can see that a boy is there. They're fighting. The brawl is nothing to the cop, but the feral stranger looks dead serious. Feet barely touching the pavement, Naruto's running, running, lips forming a name… He's too slow.

Pausing to unclip his flashlight and send a mental apology to its owner, he stops and aims. Then he chucks it. HARD.

Only then does he see the other man in the ashy clearing. Another professional. The brown-haired paramedic moves to catch the limp body before huffing and stepping back sluggishly. In the crook of his arm, the agitated, dark-haired teenager dangles.

Naruto arrives, panting and dizzied. He exhales noisily before pulling himself together to stand straight and at attention. He wipes his brow as a figurative sign of relief, flashing a guilty smile at the other men. Inside, it's an entirely new tune: 'Score!' He scours the ground, hunting for his flashlight. By the time his partner and superior breach the area, he's clutching it, and the two adults have both schooled a pleasant, blank expression onto their faces.

"Iruka-sensei? Kakashi-sensei? What's the meaning of this, here? Care to fill us in?" Shikamaru doesn't sound the least bit perturbed—he seems to have recovered to a reasonable juxtaposition of fast and collected, apathetic thinking. As usual. Sai's face is neutral, professional now. Nonetheless, his eyes gleam with mirth, although the situation is anything but funny. In his hand rests a medical briefcase, no doubt taken from the back of the ambulance. The blond looks between the pair with confusion.

How can they be so calm?

"Nani?"

Butting in, Sai clarifies, "He said—"

"Che. I have a mouth of my own, Boss." Then Shikamaru sighs, rubbing the back of his neck wearily, before beginning again. "I said—"

"No need to repeat yourselves, boys." Failing to be solemn, Kakashi happily deadpans as motions in reference to the person slouched in Iruka's arms, "You'd best hope that Naruto-sei hasn't given him permanent damage… That, or a reason to fake amnesia." He sighs, and snaps the small paperback in his palm shut, pointing at a corner of the burnt threshold. "I found the guy lurking about over… there, and I tried being nice. Didn't work, as you see."

"Still, the situation didn't call for such irresponsible actions! Honestly, Naruto, you should know better than to throw things at people!" Indignant, the blue-eyed bombshell turns to his former teacher, hands on his hips, pout already forming.

"B-B-But, Iruka-sensei…!"

"Iie."

"C-Come on! I was just trying to help Kakas—"

"Quiet!" The brunette snaps, irritated. He's normally patient and kind, but currently he's just enervated and witless. Upon seeing the slightly-injured look flash across his favorite student's face, he calms down and recites a tender apology, resting a hand on the teen's head, ruffling the already-unruly locks. Naruto doesn't even try to push him away.

So what, if he feels like a child? For a boy that has never had parents, it can't be half-bad.

Moments later, the eldest man clears his throat, impatiently cracking his knuckles. 'He must be nervous,' Naruto thinks. 'Or impatient. I wonder why he's so uncomfortable, anyway…?'

"Anou… we'll be heading out soon. Meet you at the ER for interrogations. I trust that we can leave him to you, Naruto-sei, Nara-kun, Sai-san?"

a+o-b+b-o+a-

The journey back to their second home is fairly uneventful. Along the way, they've picked up several eyewitnesses and disoriented passerby, as instructed. The transmissions have begun again, at regular intervals. It's not Sakura, and so what's said is mainly like, "Try to avoid the Oto Junction." and "Bring them all around to the Southern Entrance. Sixth Wing is open; take the heatstroke cases there." and "All available medical personnel please report to 7245 West Ougigata. Repeat, all medical personnel…"

There's a break in the droning. Naruto's cell phone hums lightly from his back pocket, and he's ecstatic for the change. Too-eager, too-loud, too-erratic, he fumbles for it. All of a sudden, he's become the point of fixation for everyone in the vehicle. Even Shikamaru, the current driver, casts a wry look at him via the rear-view mirror. The others—but one—unabashedly gaze at him, curious.

And then, just as abruptly, he's embarrassed. Flustered, stuttering, pasting on a friendly, obviously-nervous grin, he flips open the phone and presses TALK. "Ara… H-Hello?"

"Naruto! It's Sakura. I'm calling for an update. How bad is it? I've been stuck in the firemen's ward with Chouji-kun and Ino-chan."

The sunny countenance has returned, thanks to the familiarity. "Oh, we're actually heading your way. Some casualty cargo, goggling busybodies, and an out-cold suspect. You know, the usual." His humor fades, and he inquires, "Are the two of them okay?"

"Yeah. Totally fine. It's just that they were one of the first sectors to arrive at the site, and it was a pretty noxious one. They're just checking in for oxygen regulation. Protocol stuff is important to Asuma-san. You of all people would know."

"Hmm. Okay, thanks. Anyhow, I'd better getting going before Shika worries his head off and—"

"Wait! I-I… I…" There is a long, long silence. Naruto wonders if the line's been disconnected. But it hasn't, because the rosette then murmurs, "Be careful."

"W-What?"

As the car glides beneath a monorail, there is static, and then her voice is restored. It's hoarse and she's rushing. "Promise me you'll be really, really careful."

"B-But…!"

He's hesitant to agree, but does so anyhow. He convinces himself: 'It's a little thing called blinding trust.' When her voice breaks through again, it's is so filled with relief that guilt from his skepticism overwhelms him, choking him. The perplexed words can't make it past the tightening lump in his throat. Constricting, constricting… And then it's too late to ask why. Although it seems that many a moment has passed—and he's learned to anticipate the unpredictable from Sakura—he is unprepared when, invigorated, she says, "Thanks. Later."

The line goes dead.

Shakily recovering, the blond answers again to the sound of a dial tone: "R-Right back atchya. See you soon… Sakura-chan."

For the remainder of the return trip, the mood is subdued.

Inconsequentially, Naruto can't help but to think that she had sounded scared.

a+o-b+b-o+a-

The boy's face, although soot-smeared and hidden behind layers of rain-streaked mud, is aristocratic. But he really isn't just a boy, Naruto decides at last. He's too refined, too hopelessly-alluri—'Good-looking!' He corrects himself hastily.—and far too classy to be any old scruffy, commonplace kid. He might be positively-filthy on the outside, but inside—Naruto is sure that this is true—he is most likely a charming, intelligent, respect-commandeering entrepreneur.

Naruto hopes that he won't mind that they're holding hands.

The patient's cuffs have been removed, and he rests now on a stretcher in one of the lesser yet prominent waiting rooms. Currently he straddles the gap between awareness and inanimate sleep. But personally, the blond considers the very notion of waking him up while simultaneously invading his individualized space to be an irrational, laughable, and plain stupididea. Which was, naturally, why he was chosen for the task.

And so here he sits, crouched nervously and altering between bending and hunching and plopping down into a decent sitting position. Their connection—the dark-haired stranger's hand is locked around his, securely—is a painful hindrance. The energetic medic has taken to staring intensely at his ward, if only to keep his thoughts from straying elsewhere. Why did that silly kid have to latch onto him, anyway?

'I'm not that special,' Naruto rants mentally, managing to appear collected externally. 'After all…!'

The nurse at his other arm smiles sweetly at the two of them, and he mock-whimpers, "Hinata-chan! Are you so happy to see me miserable?" The young woman's serene face doesn't falter, and instead she giggles lightly and shakes her head.

"Not at all, N-Naruto-kun." A few seconds later, she exclaims, "L-Look. We're a-all done!"

The orbs of blue trail towards where her hand indicates: a slightly swollen portion of his arm, a few droplets of blood slowly seeping from the site to the surface. With speed brought on by much practice, the girl whisks out a small gauze pack and medical tape, wrapping it tautly around the affected region. "You sure?" He asks faintly. The sight of blood makes him woozy, as does the enormous, nearly-useless—in his opinion—needle she uses to draw the blood. Both are to his right.

"A-Absolutely. I-It's under con-control now. N-No more visits until next w-week. P-Please t-take it easy o-once the c-c-catastrophe is wrapped up."

Trembling, Naruto thanks her.

a+o-b+b-o+a-

He fails to notice, but the hand around his tightens, if only marginally.

Its owner grins wickedly and licks his lips.

a+o-b+b-o+a-

At the edge of the devastation, she allows herself to sigh wryly and roll her eyes. Hands on her hips as she surveys the scene, clipboard and syringe in the crook of her elbow and the front pocket of the lab coat, respectively, she makes a cutting remark. "It's about time that boy got out into the world." Her crimson lips stretch, stretch… Across her countenance spreads a wide, terrible smile. Her face itself is beautiful to behold, but still there is something ferocious in it. Something inside her is unstable, uncontrollably clawing at the surface for its very own living space.

She shows no hint of it, instead beginning to laugh. It's a soft sound, an edgy one filled with malice and amusement. Her lips are perfect, red and smooth and pleasantly plump as the corners turn upwards. There are no signs of aging, no smile or frown lines—only a beauty mark at the tip of her cheekbone, set near to the edge of her left eye. Her poker-straight hair is set back carefully, slicked into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Her skin is flawless, just a tint above porcelain, but it's her eyes that betray her.

They hold wisdom. Thousands and thousands and thousands of years of cool-witted, cold-hearted, intelligent decisions lurk beyond them. Abruptly, there is contempt, and pride for her work. Then nothing.

She smiles again, laughs a final time, then pulls out a phone to make the call.

a+o-b+b-o+a-

"Kami-sama this is strange…!" The voice hovering over him—the woman—sounds shaken, winded with surprise. Sasuke really doesn't want to open his eyes now. But with her prodding him and the needles in his side and the IV hooked up to his wrist… That option has become more than a little inconvenient. The intruder leans closer to his face, surely attempting gentle wonder as her fingertips reach out for his pulse. Humorlessly he notes that she is doing what she can do best at this moment—intruding into his personal space.

"Do you mind?" Sasuke can't be bothered with eyesight, but his offensive tone doesn't suffer from it. She jolts back, no contact whatsoever established. 'Good,' He thinks to himself. 'It's a start.'

He sits up, ruthless to the machinery around him, waving aside the covers before swinging around his body to stand. Only then do his eyelids snap open, revealing a stunning mixture of prejudicial dislike and the desire to be left alone. In actuality, he's a bit mortified. "Where's my shirt?" His speech is flat, and sheepishly the buxom woman implicates the table beside the hospital bed. Sasuke forgets to say 'thank you'.

He slips into the fabric dispassionately, taking the frays, burns marks, and split threads into consideration.

Out of the blue, the honey-eyed lady tells him, "Sorry."

"What for?" Sasuke won't make this easy. It's not in his nature to treat strangers well.

"The city was unable to obtain your prior medical records, and so we weren't aware of your conditio—"

"Just shut up. I'd rather not hear it." Still, as he searches within himself, there is, once again, no trace of that inexplicable anger he felt at his family's property.

The doctor's mouth purses, and the fine lines on her face grow detailed as she blanches and frowns. Sasuke fights back a grin. He's made her angry, obviously, and is rejoicing in that fact. After a strained absence of noise, she exhales heavily, color returning to her cheeks. Her hand dips into her pocket for a moment, brushing against something small and cylindrical—A bottle, perhaps?—before reemerging empty. "Alright, kid. Listen up. There's two ways to do things around here. This facility is notorious for its strict 'no shit taken, no shit given' policy and—"

"Where is the boy?" It's just come to the brunette's attention that the two of them are alone, save for the monitors and pills. The thought is definitely-more-than-hindering, but over the years he's eventually come to distinguish this kind of irresponsible urge as important. Right now, it doesn't bother him. As for later…

"—so you see, there's a sort of tradeoff going on. It's vital that you agree to treatme—Wait. What did you just say?" Her lecture on the fine points of chivalrous behavior halts, and she affixes him with a mistrusting stare. Her stance is doubtful; arms crossed over her chest, feet set apart, head lowered so that she can glare though her lashes, expression lacking.

"I refuse to repeat myself."

"Hmm." Minutes later, Sasuke's patience is running to an all-time low. Gradually, Sasuke comes to acknowledge the growing, daring smolder that's steadily kindling behind his eyes. He's irritated, yes, but more determined to get his answers than to strangle this woman. So he challenges her instead. Intently, she accepts. "That's unfortunate," She begins, her face a harmonious portrayal of naïve enjoyment. Her perfectly-applied smirk is daunting, her eyes vivacious and mocking. "I'm not exactly in the position to make interpretations at this point, kid."

His fists curl…

The doctor, appeased—"Oi! Tsunade-hime! Oyabun! Oi! C-Chotto matte, Tsunade-hime!" A man's voice interjects, and she forces her mouth to curve in a spectacular show of bravado. A white-haired businessman skids to a halt outside the door, turning the handle sharply and barging in. "Chotto… matte?"

"Jiraiya. What part of patient consultation do you not understand?" The woman's temper is flaring and her pun is bitterly delivered, despite the inhumanly sweet smile at her lips. Caught amongst the doorframe, the visitor begins to fidget with the hem of his frog-print tie. Very unprofessional, Sasuke thinks, but isn't given a chance to complete the thought.

"Ara, Tsunade-hime…! Sorry, sorry, I was just about to m—"

"GET OUT!"

A hurried withdrawal later, Tsunade turns to him. "Gomen nasai, I've lost my train of thought…" She fishing for information, which is pretty witty coming from a total stranger, but he isn't up to taking the bait. The hallway outside quiets; the room alongside it has already been silent for a very long time. Bored, she's taken to entwining her fingers and feeling the joints and ligaments stretch as she manipulates them. She sighs heavily, then announces, "I'd better go." She's barely made it to the door when Sasuke cracks, begrudgingly, eyes fixated on a space somewhere near to hers and storming something fierce. It's an utter turnaround from silence, and it's caught the doctor off-guard.

Maintaining an offhand, aloof-and-distant kind of vibe, he speaks to her, his voice viscous, as if they have all the time in the world to sort this out. "The boy. He's far from normal, I suppose. Blond hair, blue eyes. Loud. Short. He's wearing the outfit of an EMT. His smile… I've never seen it, but his aim is good." Sasuke's description places him as a minimalist—which the woman can already rule out, with confidence—and his posture is relaxed. He's stepped back from hostility, and is instead leaning against the window, face shaded in by daybreak. If she hadn't already classified him as 'heartless', she'd say that his gruff whisper had almost sounded sentimental and, perhaps to a certain extent, wistful.

But she already has; and what's done is done.

"Your purpose?"

Just as slowly, his mouth slips into a smirk, terrifying and lovely all at once to behold. In his throat, a small noise of acknowledgment, low and heady, stirring the air with a gentle amusement that's as far and close to his personality as possible. Laughter? "Then I admit I have no purpose."

His smile belies his words, and Tsunade heaves a sigh. A difficult child like this has no place in her hospital—but the planet resonates with all sorts of people, and as it is such, she cannot always be satiated with her life.

"Concerning your request." He looks up, faintly intrigued with her tangled emotions. "It's denied. But, well, I'm certain that Naruto is very sorry for his actions, kiddo. No need to worry." Under her breath, she grumbles, things like: "He'd better be." and "Brat's wasted my whole morning with this…!" and "Just wait 'til your paycheck arrives!".

The sophisticate's—Tsunade just can't picture this face, jaded and sculpted with scalding dislike as just a rebellious boy, now—eyes narrow. "Kindly notify me when your ideally-shitless facility manages to locate my records. I would like to see them." All traces of expression have vanished. The charming formalities have come and gone. What's left behind is merely a sense of professionalism, halfway off-kilter and halfway dead-on-center; the gears turning in his head and the calculations lurking in his eyes are rather frightening. He is entirely flint now: cold, cold, cold. Cold to everyone and everything around him as he turns to the tubes in his arm, easing them out with air of one who's been around them before. The machines flat-line, and the sound grates on her nerves, but he just turns to her, expectantly, stemming the flow with his other hand. "I'm going to request an immediate discharge. Now is the time for paperwork…

"Tsunade."

The blatant disrespect in his tone bids her farewell, and so she turns to leave. She chuckles a little, fingers on the brass knob for the second time this morning. "Don't get your hopes up. There's an interrogation ahead. You have five minutes. I'll be back in three." As an afterthought, she addresses him and the blood oozing from him. "Band-Aids are in the top left cabinet, by the window. Don't go killing yourself, now."

His trembling hands seem to say, 'Won't you do something? Won't you stop me?' His mouth, gloating, seems to say, 'Can you do something? Can you stop me?' His eyes simply say, 'Don't.'

It mystifies her, but it's not precisely the best time to be asking greedy little questions. She's been waiting for far too long, hovering; and besides, the brunette is—once again—a closed book. Smoothly and monotonously, his words are interposed in her mind: "And what gave you that impression? This boy is nothing to me." She begins walking.

From out the door, a melodious reply wafts in. "Of course not." Sasuke swallows hard. Is it possible? Maybe. Maybe she's smarter than it seems. Maybe, just maybe, she already knows.

Indulgence.

(A/N: I've come to a decision, and not about updates. I think that this story should be more slow-paced than some (cough all cough) of my others, and so I've split this chapter up. So before anyone gets the idea to strangle the author for not putting the very best part (Come on. All you SasuNaru fans are waiting for the love bite segment, right?) in… Just hold on! There shall be a part 2.5! (laughs)

Preference Question is still up, you see. But in general, how was it this time? I'm still experimenting with the new writing style. Once again, ask if you have a question! Dark loves questions!

(By the way, anyone catch any of the HUGE HINTS in this chapter? Ahem, just checking.

(Preference Question: Short updates, probably quicker? Or longer updates, slow downtime?)

Notes:

a—1759 to 1804—Okay. Simply put, Japan was in one of the Edo period's later stages, during the decline of the Tokugawa rule. The final collapse wasn't just political—external intrusions into the country and a series of twenty droughts were mostly likely a big contribution to this. This was a time where society was refined and literate, and where the samurai often depended on merchants for their wares. (Please look the rest up if you are curious. I'm trying to avoid posting an enormous history article here, and what I did have planned out, I forgot. Sorry. But any necessary facts that may come up will be referenced and explained.)

b—(grins) Avoid the Oto Junction, huh? Sorry, sorry, lame to bring it up again. Once again, no idea of how hospitals work. But I'm pretty sure that after a bad fire, firemen need to get breathing regulation of some sort, right?

c—Why did I use 'Tsunade-hime' in my writing? Mainly because that's what Jiraiya calls Tsunade in the series, so yeah.

d—An EMT is an 'emergency medical technician'. (The ambulance drivers! But clearly these people take care of many more serious, life-threatening issues. Good work, men and women!)

e—Themes? (Kyaaa, thank these big time! They cleared up my thought blockage!) Arigatou! (Home Made Kazoku) and On Top (The Killers) and Bones (The Killers) and When You Were Young (The Killers, again) and the spiffy new Bleach Winamp skin I found yesterday. (grins)

Important Japanese References:

-sensei—suffix to a name, usually meaning 'teacher' (Ex: Iruka-sensei is something like 'Teacher Iruka')

Oi—hey

Nani?—What?

Che—this is more of a sound, typically a scoff that can show exasperation

-sei—here I've made it a suffix to a name, meaning 'companion' (Ex: Naruto-sei is 'my companion Naruto')

Iie—no

Anou…—well…, erm…, eh…, ah…, er…, um… (et cetera)

Ara—ah

Kami—God

-sama—suffix to a name, usually indicating respect or noble birth

-hime—here I've made it a suffix to a name (originally, it's just 'hime'), meaning 'princess'

Oyabun—chief

Chotto matte!—'Wait a minute!' or 'Wait a sec!' or even 'Just a minute!'

Gomen nasai—a more formal apology than just 'gomen'

Reviews:

Thanks to you all: lunarxshinobi, darktulip, Just Subliminal, moonwillow (Don't worry, here's your update! And thank you for your interest!), fierymetis, Ayumi666

Your feedback was love! (smiles)

A boy, a fire. A medical anomaly. Disastrous arrangements. Love bites. Anything and everything to worsen his day.

Look forward to this and (hopefully) more in the next installment,

Part 2.5

I can hardly believe it. I'm DONE? (I feel like I'm forgetting something.)

Nonetheless, I'm posting this immediately so I can go back to crazy and hectic updating! YES!

Ja ne,

o.O.o.O darkenedmoonlightflame O.o.O.o

And company. My adorably annoying muses. 'Kotsu-san and the Sess-sei.

(P.S. Thanks, once last time…!)

Chapter Finished: 7.2.07

Post: …?

Spell Check: Yes.

EDIT COUNT? Zero.