Sunlight had never been an issue for him. He was a rare type of vampire in that way. Although now, in the aftermath of battle, the sunlight he would normal revel in felt like pins and needles to his aching eyes as it attempted to pierce his eyelids. Thankfully a shadow fell upon his pain struck eyes, and masked the rays of the sun from him. He felt relief in this minor comfort before his mind became alert to the presence of a person inside this room he had been brought to, but then that struck the question: where was he? Surely he was not in the house he had grown up in. No, he had brought it down brick by brick when he set out to bring an end to the Ichijou line. A hand swept his forehead, sweeping away the hair that fell there, and rested against his head, like a mother feeling for a fever on her sick child.

This action felt foreign to him, so it was of no surprise when his own hand reached up and grabbed the person's wrist, a woman's by the slim feel of it beneath his palm. Against his fingertips he felt the slow steady pulse of her heart shake once in subtle shock before slowing to a relaxed beat.

"Looks like you're recovering alright if you've got a grip like that," the woman said, her voice both rough and soft in his ears, yet he couldn't bear to open his eyes and look upon his would-be savior. Little known to him he didn't have to, for she reached with the fingers of her free hand to his eyes and gently pried one open, exposing his pupil to the dim lighting of a wood paneled room, and young woman, no older then he was, standing at his bedside. "Ahh~ I was wrong. Looks like you have green eyes," she remarked releasing his eyelid and pulling her hand free of his loosening grip.

"Who are you?" the young vampire asked, moving his raised hand to his face to rub tiredly at his eyes, working them open more naturally then her rash action had. He brought his hand down next to hesitantly touch his sore throat. Whether it was like this because of misuse for however long he had been unconscious, or because of his need for blood, he wasn't quite sure of yet. He looked up at the woman next to him, and remarked to himself about what he saw. A young woman of fair skin and a taller than average, gangly frame, yet she was no shorter than him by an inch or so. Shoulder length, light brown hair framed an oval face, and blue-green eyes like that of a glass marble sat perched above a small nose and pale, thin lips. For sure she wasn't a beauty like his former classmate Ruka, or could even be considered gorgeous by anyone's standards, but she had the type of look to her that—to him—made her seem sweet and innocent. A slightly rounded face, a gentle curve to her smile, and a somewhat feminine figure. At least to him her appearance was too sweet and kind for the harshness of her personality which matched her outward appearance like polka dots and stripes.

"Name's Izanami Kusoichi, but feel free to call me Iz. Now who the hell are you, Mr. Prince?" Izanami asked, folding her arms across an ample chest, looking down at him with a look of mixed emotion, one he could not pinpoint.

"Ah, my name is Takuma Ichijou. A pleasure to meet you." As a gentleman, he could not be any means forget his manners in the presence of a lady, no matter how bad mannered the young lady was. He started to sit up only to fall back against the headboard when a sharp pain went through his upper body, more specifically his chest. He pressed his hand against his chest in a feeble attempt to relieve the pain, only to close his eyes tightly and ball the sheet covering him in his fist, waiting for the pain to subside, and dreading when it didn't.

Izanami reached down to grab the hand that was held tightly to an area over his heart, moving it away despite his protest, and began to unbutton his foreign shirt, revealing a smattering of bandages covering his upper torso. The area over his heart had begun to seep red, staining the once white bandage with blood and perspiration.

"So, Mr. Takuma Ichijou, how'd you get an injury like that and manage to survive?" Izanami asked, studying him with an intensity like that of a scientist or a doctor analyzing their subject, eyeing every twitch and muscle movement Takuma showed as he focused on answering her questions.

"I-I don't remember," he answered, swallowing despite the dryness of his throat. Izanami sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching over him to a glass of water set on a bed side table.

"It's too bad you can't remember," she dryly commented, her eyes and voice revealing to him that she didn't believe a word he said. Of course he couldn't blame her, nor could he tell her the real reason for his injury. He was most likely branded a liar, yet he couldn't very well have her think him insane. "You've been unconscious for four days. Depending on the nature of your injury, I would have guessed you'd be out for longer," she continued, reaching up a hand to graze the bandage, with her nails.

"Ever since I was a child I've been a quick healer," Takuma answered, watching Izanami as carefully as she was watching him.

"Even so, you're body isn't up to par with your mind. I suggest, Mr. Takuma Ichijou, that you let your body rest for the next few days." While she was talking her fingers had let slip the knot tying together his bandages, loosening and unraveling them from his torso. Takuma feared that she would see a wound farther along in the healing process then it should be, and began to protest against it, only to have his efforts refuted. He waited nervously, absentmindedly clutching the blanket out of fear that she would ask him what he was. It was an action she misinterpreted as slight pain when the bandage stuck to his flesh several times because of the amount of dried blood over his wound. And when she removed the last of the bandage from his body, Takuma stared in shock at the bloody gash and the crude placement of black stitches near his solar plexus.

"Still think you're all right, Mr. Takuma Ichijou?" Izanami asked him, referencing his earlier argument when she was removing the bandage.

"I…I didn't think it was this bad…" he said at a loss for words. Takuma could tell that it was healing despite its vulgar appearance, the wound closing up very slowly despite his rapid healing ability. Evidence that the blow dealt to him was more deadly than he remembered.

The severity of the injury must have hindered the healing process. Perhaps that is why my throat is burning, he thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Izanami open a drawer in the night stand and withdraw from it a roll of gauze. Picking at the edge, she placed the end on his left side and unrolled it across his chest, giving him simple commands, such as: pick up your arms, as she wrapped his body in the bandage. When the wound was once again covered, she tied off the end in a knot and replaced the gauze in the drawer.

"Take it easy for the next few days, Mr. Takuma Ichijou. However bad the outside may look, it's the inside that sustains the worst damage," she said, standing up from his bedside, "Best let your body rest and recover until that wound turns into a scar, don't you agree?" She raised her hand, her index finger pressed against his forehead, willing him to lie back down on the bed. "Sleep well, Mr. Takuma Ichijou." With this simple farewell, she turned away from the man lying in her bed, a lazy wave thrown carelessly over her shoulder. When she reached the open bedroom door, Takuma stopped her with a single word, causing her to pause in the doorway, but not turn around.

"Can you tell me where I am?" he asked her, eyebrows furrowed, green eyes filled with curiosity as to who this young woman was and how she had come to find him.

She inclined her head towards him; her eyes seemed to be looking at him out of their corners, yet her short bangs hid that fact from him. The woman gave him a smile, showing her upper teeth before hiding them completely when she frowned once again. It was like she had a heard a joke that had lost its humorous intent after a brief moment. "Middle of nowhere, centered in the hills of a mountain range," she answered, leaving him to question both her riddle and her sanity. The only other clue that he and Izanami were still close to the broken home was that they must have been within walking distance since her house seemed to be situated in the mountains. While the question of where he was took space within his mind, one other question plagued his subconscious:

How had he survived when he was supposed to die?


He couldn't go back to sleep. Not after he had just woken up after being unconscious for several days. That said he couldn't lie in bed any longer than a few hours just staring up at the ceiling and wondering what had happened to his friends or what Kaname had done to the Council.

Although her request had been more of a demand, he decided to find her and tell her his thanks for healing him to the best of her abilities before leaving. However, when he entered what he assumed to be her kitchen, straight down the hall from the bedroom he was staying in, both her stance and her tone came off glacial cold as soon as he stepped inside.

"Didn't I tell you to lie down for a few days and take it easy?" Izanami asked him, taking care to not grace him with her full attention as she focused on the task at hand: chopping vegetables on a cutting board and throwing them carelessly into a metal pot on a gas stove.

He paused a few feet away from her, his former plan escaping him in the presence of someone colder than ice itself.

"Yes…but I'm feeling much better than before. Although appearances say otherwise," he replied, his reassuring smile dropping a few degrees at the corners when she turned a fearsome glare on him, eyes as soulless as the marbles they represented.

"If you're feeling better, then maybe you should hit the bricks," she told him coldly, turning back to her cooking process.

It was something that he wanted, sure, but he didn't want to part ways like this, with her in this foul mood that seemed to be ever present within her.

"Well…I mean—" Takuma started to say only to be cut off mid-sentence when she turned on him and roughly pushed him against the far wall. His body slid down the wood paneling until he sat upon the floor, head falling back to rest against the wall as the pain in his chest flared up again in accordance to his breathing until he felt the sole of her shoe press against his solar plexus, igniting something akin to a bonfire within his body. As the pain dulled down to a low burning ember, Takuma opened his eyes from the squinted slits they had become to see Izanami staring down at him with something he could only assume was a mixture of pity and distance.

"I'm not doing this because I get off seeing you in pain, Mr. Prince. I'm doing this to prove that you are not "better". For all we know you could have internal bleeding and me pressing on your injury might be making it worse. And don't think me cruel, I just don't want to send you off on your merry way only to find your obituary in tomorrow's circulars. Got it?" she said, removing her foot and replacing it with her hand in front of his face. He hesitated before placing his right hand in hers, gripping it tightly as she pulled him up to his feet, stumbling a bit due to the sudden force. "If you're not going to rest, then either take a seat or explore my humble abode. Just make sure you take it easy." She went back to her cooking then, throwing something that looked vaguely like a radish into the odd mixture. Takuma watched her warily for a moment, weighing his given options against each other. Like hours earlier, she was in no positive mood for anything close to conversation, and he decided it best to leave her alone for the time being. So he left her, turning back to the other doorway that looked to be the entrance to the sitting room, yet before he left her alone completely, she gave a warning to the blonde.

"Don't open the door at the end of the hallway."

It was an odd sentence, even for her, yet it compelled him to ask her the consequences if he should disobey this simple command. Not that he would, but it was simple curiosity.

She looked back at him, a menacing smirk in place of her somewhat usual glare. "Because if you do, I'll have to kill you."

Not to say that her threats weren't convincing, if anything he believed that she did indeed have the skill set to challenge him if the dead rabbit on her kitchen table was any indication of how deadly she was. More so it was the belief that someone wouldn't go through the trouble of nursing another back to health only to kill them off with their bare hands. And if she was like any other human, then she would be the same.

Izanami continued to smile menacingly at the blond man she had found lying injured in the dirt and rubble of a mansion long dead—if not physically then spiritually. He in turn looked at her, not so much as an ounce of fear or indifference towards her vague threat. Instead in place was a small, amused smile, like he didn't believe a word she said.

Tricky, but I know I intimidate him to some level, Izanami thought, her eyes softening slightly enough to look less emotionless, and her wide smirk turning in to a small, slightly amused smile.

"Just kidding," she said, leaning her left hip against the counter upon which she cut her vegetables. "But seriously, don't go inside. I don't think I'd be able to face you again if I did." She turned back to her cooking, taking her knife in hand while the blond boy behind her held back a shiver, wondering what it was behind the door at the end of the hall that caused her to grow more callous, if that were possible.

He left her then, turning his back on the woman and her dead rabbit in favor of exploring her home since it would likely be a few weeks at most before she allowed him to leave the perimeter of her sight.


Takuma, as a member of the highest nobility of vampire, was used to high class human meals when such occasion arose. Not to say he was a stranger to the common place meals when the situation called for it. Not to mention the candies and pocky that Senri and Rima carried with them. That said he had never eaten something quite like Rabbit Stew. At least, that's what he assumed it to be from the disappearance of the dead rabbit from her kitchen table.

And so it continued. With the exception of breakfast, the latter two meals of the next two days was this strange concoction of vegetables and rabbit meat that Izanami forced Takuma to eat. On the night of the second day after Takuma had risen from his almost comatose slumber, he made the mistake of questioning Izanami's readymade meal set before him, to which she replied rather harshly:

"They're called 'left over's'. And if you think my cooking is not good enough to be eaten three days in a row, then I dare you to try and make me something healthy and nutritious that will send me on my merry way back to whatever third-rate fantasy romance novel you jumped out of."

After which he didn't question her about her food anymore. But made it a habit to thank her profusely after they had eaten and opt for any and all chores she needed down inside the house. It wasn't that he was ungrateful for her meals, her hospitality, or her first-aid. No. It was simply that there came a limit to how often a person ate the same meal daily. So it was that on the third night of his recovery that he was rewarded a break from the usual stew.

Throughout the three days he had been there he had gathered bits of information about his would-be hostess. Small things like her age—of which she was eighteen—and how long she had been living by herself—three years to the day of two months and five days ago as she put it. How she was a survivalist of sorts and a hunter—this made known by the several rabbits and few ducks she had brought back from her ventures out into the surrounding forest, and stored behind the mysterious door at the end of the hall. While he had tried to gather more information about her and their location, she was quick to announce Quid Pro Quo and extract the same amount of information from him. While to her it seemed like an even trade of information from the questions asked, to him it seemed like she was gathering more than she ought to.

So it was on this third night, when the reprieve from Rabbit Stew was a blessing in the form of what looked to be a roasted duck and potatoes, that she asked her top three "Topics of Interest" as she liked to call them.

"So, what's the topic tonight? Family? Hobbies? Your odd sleeping patterns?" she asked him, causing him to flinch in slight surprise and glance up at her, eyes full of worry and slight displeasure.

"Well…family sounds like a nice topic," he said his discomfort evident in his voice. While he had been hoping that Izanami might pass off his late mornings and nights as a sign of recuperation, it was obvious that this wasn't the case in Izanami's cold, calculating eyes.

She looked at him tiredly, like she had been through this a thousand times before, and set down her knife and fork, pushing away her half-empty plate to evaluate his body language thoroughly, folding her arms on the table top while she blankly stared him down. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence had gone by, she sighed, conceding to his choice of conversation silently while she went back to her meal. "Alright, Mr. Prince, you're topic wins. I wanted to ask you a question anyway," she consented, sticking a forkful of meat into her mouth. Throughout his stay there, he had yet to shake the nickname she had so cleverly given him, and yet in his mind, he knew that she would never stop.

"Oh. Alright. What is it you wanted to ask me?" he asked in confusion.

"What's your family like?" she asked him suddenly, turning his confused expression into one of surprise.

"What do you mean?" Takuma asked her, this question having never been asked of him about anyone other than his Grandfather.

"You know, who's all in your family? If it makes your lips looser, I'll announce Quid Pro Quo, Mr. Prince," she explained carefully, like he had never heard her in the first place. And although she had promised a fair exchange of information, he still felt like she was taking advantage of him and his curiosity. So he decided to play along, if only to learn more about the mysterious woman he was living with.

"Well…my mother is the head of an Ikebana school, and my father is an actor," he answered dutifully, wanting to know more about this woman other than her name, vague residence, and intimidating personality.

"Any maternal grandparents?" she asked him, leaning her hand against her hand in slight interest. A noticeable gleam in her eye that reflected her own inner curiosity.

"Dead," he answered, not quite sure what she was getting at.

"Paternal?"

He paused for but a second before answering, but nevertheless she noticed his slight hesitation.

"My Grandfather died recently actually."

She made a small humming noise before offering her condolences, staring at him for a second longer before returning to what was left of her meal, her bangs covering the top half of her face as she leaned too far over her plate. Another humming noise came from her soon after the abrupt silence, inciting his curiosity about why she asked about his grandparents in the first place.

"What is it?"

"Mmm, no. It's nothing. I knew someone with the surname "Ichijou" once about seven years ago. he was a weird guy. Well, not so much weird as…odd. He couldn't have looked more than forty, but he talked like a great-grandfather. All chivalry and a very cold demeanor. I think his name was…Asano? No, no, it was Asato. Asato Ichijou. Any relation at all?" she asked him, picking her head up from her plate to look at him from under the cover of her bangs. The cold stare she gave him seeming to look at him, inside him, and through him. He'd had enough of looks like that, whether it was from his Grandfather or her.

"No. I've never heard that name," he answered, speaking in a tone similar to the one she had used before. She looked at him for another minute before her face melted into a smile and a warm kind of look he had never seen before took over her as she chuckled a bit in relief.

"Thank God. That man scares the life outta me. I don't know what I'd do if you were related to him. Although even if you are, you don't seem like it. Mr. Prince is too cheerful and warm to be that cold-hearted," she said as she stood up from her seat, both plates in hand as she threw the bones away in a trash bin before setting them in the sink. Takuma stood up and walked across the kitchen to stand behind her, reaching into the dish water and pulling out one of the plates.

"I can do these if you don't mind," he told her, flashing what he thought was a reassuring smile. She seemed to reciprocate it, smiling happily at him before turning away from the sink. For a brief moment he hoped: he hoped that this unusually headstrong woman wouldn't say anything snarky or sarcastic. He was wrong of course, but there was no helping that.

"Looks like a prince, sounds like a prince, but looks like Mr. Prince isn't as useless as a prince," she said, her blue-green eyes flashing mirth as she left the room, walking down the hallway. He watched her receding back before it disappeared behind the mysterious door, waiting a few seconds before taking a glass out of the cupboards and filling it with water. Watching the door, he slipped his blood tablets from his pocket and dropped two in the water, the tablets dissolving and tingeing the water pink before turning it a translucent red. He glanced down at the small box, turning it in his hand and feeling the small tablets move freely through the empty space within. He was running low on his supply, probably enough for four or five days, meaning that he would have to either leave and find a supplier or risk revealing himself and taking blood from an innocent person. Despite the supply however it did not help his regenerative powers. Having slowed to that of a human's, his body now craved the fresh blood of the only human around for miles that could help heal his wound. But taking her blood without her knowing was against his moral standing, and asking for it would be unwise.

Izanami…she was extremely perceptive and had a demeanor almost as cold as his Grandfather and only slightly less deadly than Kiryuu-kun. Of course she'd been living by herself for the last few years, cut off from most human society, that kind of isolation would have turned even the warmest person into a block of ice. She was a person he knew well to be weary of.

"Looks like you found the Kool-Aid. You know, I was saving that for a rainy day," Izanami's voice rang out, startling Takuma out of his contemplation enough to quickly glance down at the glass and sigh in relief that the tablets had completely dissolved. He turned to see her standing a few feet behind him, the door to the secret room slightly ajar, and her glare zeroing in on the drink in his hand.

"Oh, um, yeah. I hope you don't mind," he stammered, going along with her chosen explanation, glancing nervously from Izanami to the glass of pseudo-blood in his hand.

"Not as long as you give me a drink," she said, taking the near-full glass from his hands and putting it to her pale lips. She took a large amount into her mouth and sputtered, choking on the drink before putting a hand up to her mouth in a half-hearted attempt to keep from spitting it out onto the floor. He gave her a half-smile and sympathetic eyes as a small gesture of understanding—for even if it quenched their thirst it was still bland and tasteless, at least to him it was—before taking the glass from her hands. Glaring at him, she turned to the sink and spat out the "vile" liquid, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before reaching up and opening a different cupboard than the one he had opened before, taking out a half-full canister of this "Kool-Aid" stuff, seeming to check its expiration date before questioning herself about the state of the water pipes.

She turned back to face him, reaching for the glass before staying her hand when he pulled it out of her reach, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Are you sure?" she asked him. He nodded in response, taking a sip and smiling at her as proof that it did not bother him. "Alright, suit yourself. But if you die of food poisoning it's your own fault, Mr. Prince." She walked away from him in strides down the hall, opening the door at the end wide enough for herself to slip through before disappearing down a set of stairs, the door closing with a soft sound. Takuma breathed a sigh of relief before drinking the remaining liquid and placing the empty glass in the dishwater; washing the remaining dishes and placing them in the drying rack.

He left the kitchen then, turning off the light before walking down the hall to the room he was staying in. One hand on the doorknob, he looked to Izanami's door for a brief moment, the door she always seemed to disappear behind when she had the free time. He looked away, entering his borrowed room and closing his door for the night, planning to kill a few hours by reading the books he had found around the house—a few mysteries, a couple non-fiction, and a dictionary. Picking the dictionary up from his bed, he thought back to Izanami's words during dinner. Flipping towards the back of the book, he ran a finger down the list of words on the page, stopping at the term she had used and memorizing it before leaving his room. He knocked repeatedly against the dark-colored wood until he heard her footsteps on the stairs, waiting patiently while her hand turned the brass knob and the door opened enough for Takuma to see her annoyed face.

"How may I help you?" she asked, looking overall bored with his presence alone. He held up the dictionary, one digit pointing at the phrase he had bothered her for.

"Quid pro quo: one thing in return for another. I told you what you wanted to know, so you have to tell me in return," he informed her, closing the book and waiting patiently while she simply stared at him. Before long she moved her eyes away from him and towards the floor, closing her eyes and sighing through her nose in a huff as she seemed to decide something unpleasant. She moved her body out of the slim opening the door provided her and leaned her back against it, closing it completely.

"I might not have people skills and I might come off kind of…cold, but I have my honor as a Kusoichi to uphold so...I don't have any grandparents to speak of. No aunts or uncles either. No cousins, or siblings, or nieces or nephews," Izanami said, effectively listing off every family member she did not have.

"What about your parents?" he asked her quietly, despite knowing full well that she had an estranged father.

"My Dad comes around sometimes to drop off the essentials and talk about the…family business that I have absolutely no interest in. Then he leaves soon after we get into a screaming match," she told him, a wry smile on her face.

Takuma swallowed thickly before asking his final question—a question he already knew as a touchy subject for her. The change in her usually expressionless face was tangible; shifting from the careful guard she kept up to one that was slightly painful.

"She died when I was three. "Stupid, fucking reason" I'm told so often by my Dad whenever I ask," she said, smiling half-heartedly, "I have no memories of her, so I'm not all that attached. It bothers my Dad more than it does me." Takuma felt at a loss then, feeling the same about his own estranged parents, but not exactly worthy of comforting someone who's own mother had died under cloudy circumstances and a father who seemed to want to fight whenever they talked. He decided to try comforting her anyway, knowing the feeling of not having a parent around you during the most crucial times.

"I wasn't close to my parents either; they were busy with work so my Grandfather raised me," Takuma offered, no smile on his face as he looked at her sincerely.

"The same one who died?" he nodded.

"Do you miss him?" Takuma didn't even have to think—nor did he hesitate—before shaking his head no. Why would he when he was the one who killed him for the sole purpose of putting an end to the Ichijou family? Izanami smiled ruefully at this and crossed her arms over her chest, looking down at her sock-covered feet before speaking to him.

"Sometimes…at the end of the day, family isn't defined by blood ties or who gave birth to who. It's defined by who you feel safest with. With whom you can trust and love unconditionally. Family is something that's earned through time. It's almost like a friendship in some ways, but deeper," Izanami told him, her smile strained and small. He copied her smile, nodding his head in understanding before she disappeared back within her secret room, a simple "good night" thrown at him as the door closed in his face. A small smile kept on Takuma's face even after she had left him alone. He felt…lighter somehow, despite the heavy feeling in his body that pervaded blood lust. He was simply taking small comfort in the fact that she felt the same way he did.