Disclaimer: I do not own Tumbling or Kamen Rider Kiva, nor am I profiting from it in any way. This fiction was written solely for my own pleasure.

Warning: This fiction contains shonen-ai. This means romance between guys. If this makes you uncomfortable in any way, then don't read this. I am in no way responsible for those who do not heed this warning.

Summary: Tumbling Post-series. AU w/ crossover with Kamen Rider Kiva. Premise: "What if Takenaka Yuta was Kiva?"

Azuma Wataru wondered why it took him so long to realize that while he considered Takenaka Yuta like a brother, he hardly ever knew anything about the kind captain's life outside of tumbling. But he's about to discover a whole other side of Yuta's life, a side fraught with Fangire politics, obsessive violin playing, and unimaginable danger.

Pairings: Wataru x Yuta, eventual Mizusawa x Kiyama, onesided Yuta x Tsurumi, Hino x Mari, Nago x Megumi

Fangire Spring

Chapter 10- Tea and Cake at Castle Doran, a Modeling Disaster, and What it Means to be Kiva

By fieryrondo

"You're sure this is the right place, Kivat?"

Yuta looked up at the impressive skyscraper that pointed into the sky. Shiny steel and polished concrete. It looked like any other building complex in the business district. A far cry from the flying purple dragon castle that Yuta saw drop from the sky to finish off the remains of what had been Miyazawa Hitomi. He had followed the instructions on the back of the invitation with a mix of skepticism and curiosity. Ramon and his stoic butler, Riki, were an odd pair but Yuta had the feeling they had the answers to the questions he had.

Kivat perched on his shoulder, his little clawed feet clinging onto Yuta's shirt. It was a sensation that Yuta hadn't entirely gotten used to yet. He longed for the happy days when he didn't know about monsters that drained human life energy and mechanical toy-like bats didn't come knocking at his door to speak of a greater destiny.

And now apparently, according to Kivat, he was going to have evening tea with three other monsters.

"Not Fangire, of course!" Kivat had hastily added on the way. "They're sworn to help Kiva, to help you."

"But what if I don't want to be Kiva?" Yuta wanted to plead, but somehow the question stuck in his throat and never voiced itself properly.

"Yuta-niichan!" Ramon greeted him at the door. The boy had shed his gakuran, and was wearing the sailor-fuku that he so dearly seemed to love. "You came at a good time. Jiro just finished the cake. And Riki's made sandwiches and tea."

Before Yuta could utter a single word of protest, Ramon yanked him into the building. Yuta squinted. Not that it would have helped, considering it was pitch black.

"The lights?" Yuta wondered. Flapping overhead, Kivat's eyes glowed red in the dark.

"Oh, we don't use electricity in the building—it saves the trouble of having to pay bills," Ramon said. The dark did not seem to bother him in the slightest, Yuta noticed. Ramon tugged him along and Yuta almost stumbled as his foot caught on a stair. Ramon skipped along, pulling Yuta up the winding staircase. "Though Jiro's been interested in installing an elevator. What do you think, Yuta-niichan?"

Yuta, who had just gone up eighteen floors' worth of stairs, staggered a little to catch his breath.

"I think…it might be a good idea."

"An elevator might be fun!" Ramon enthused as they walked. "We should get ones with lots of buttons! Those are always fun to push—here we are."

Though Yuta was very well aware that his slack jawed reaction to the slumbering Doran was not at all flattering, he couldn't help but gape in amazement. What was he supposed to say when shown a monstrously large purple dragon with a castle built into its back like a bloated tortoise's shell?

"That's Doran," Ramon said, voice ringing with affection. "A bit redundant, but it suits him, don't you think?"

"The Dorans are also members of the Thirteen Demon Races, Yuta," Kivat explained. "They're very powerful, but not terribly intelligent and are incapable of speech. The Fangires captured this one and bound it to their castle so that it would serve as the base of operations for the Checkmate Four."

"The Checkmate Four?" Yuta repeated. "You told me those guys were the Fangire's leaders. Why would you bring me here?"

"There hasn't been a Fangire that's stepped into Doran for twenty years," Jiro answered, poking his head from a window. "We've made sure of that."

"You can say we kind of kicked them out," Ramon said with a shark-like grin.

Yuta shivered. Ramon sniffed heartily, eyes half-closed in rapture.

"Devil's food cake, Jiro? You shouldn't have!"

Ramon pulled Yuta along, like a child who drags a stuffed toy that is too big for him to carry. He waved his hand dismissively at the ornate brass decorations, the heavy chandeliers, the rich satins and silks of the wall hangings ("They're all so old and boring. It's my job to dust them every now and then."). They wound their way through wide, echoic hallways, where the torches on both sides lit up as they passed by. Yuta jumped but Ramon only smiled and pointed out in juvenile glee the grotesque gargoyle heads that graced the walls.

"It's okay, Yuta-niichan, they won't bite," Ramon said when he noticed Yuta shying away from the walls. "They've been dead for over seventy years. Though you might want to avoid them, just in case. Jiro swears that one of them can still bite."

They furtively passed by a mysterious door ("You don't want to go in there, Yuta-niichan, you might not come back!") and a large throne room that Yuta felt strangely drawn to. Peeking inside, he spied the splendidly decorated throne, breathing in the sweet smell of the red rose petals scattered across the floor and swirled at the throne's feet.

"That's not a very interesting room, Yuta-niichan," Ramon interrupted his reverie and firmly tugged Yuta away. "I'll show you something cooler!"

They briefly walked past the bedrooms, most of them unoccupied. Ramon took a peek inside one and quickly closed the door, his nose wrinkling. Yuta blinked as he caught the glimpse of a pink poster, a bed draped in luxuriant dark furs, and most disturbingly, what appeared to be the remains of a Sika deer splattered on the floor.

"Jiro likes his Onyanko girls," Ramon said cheerfully, as if that explained everything.

Riki's room was bolted shut. An air freshener in the shape of a Christmas tree adorned the doorknob.

"And for good reason," Ramon said. "You'd never know it, since Riki does such a good job with housekeeping for everywhere else, but his room smells pretty bad. Personally, I don't really mind the smell of decay, but picky Jiro can't even walk by Riki's room without a bottle of cologne in hand."

By the time they reached Ramon's room, he was practically bouncing off the walls.

"My room is the best, Yuta-niichan!" Ramon cried out, throwing open the door. He dashed in, pulling off his beret and tossing it to the side. Intrigued by the sound of splashing, Yuta entered Ramon's room—

-only to scream when he saw what appeared to be a green fish monster bobbing up and down in a large swimming pool.

"Yuta-niichan! It's me!" Ramon called out, his voice high and joyful. As he swam to the edge, Yuta could see the green fins and scales flash in the sparkling water. "Sorry, I got too excited," Ramon said and hauled himself out of the water.

"You're not…a Fangire," Yuta concluded, his voice tinged with doubt. Ramon blinked and Yuta fancied the boy, despite his nonchalance, was actually quite nervous, having made the slip of transforming in front of his guest.

Ramon's form shimmered.

"Am I scary, Yuta-niichan?" Ramon asked, voice trembling. "I can switch back—"

The young Merman lapsed into shocked silence when he felt Yuta's arms close around his scaly armor in a hug.

"You should get dry, Ramon-kun," Yuta murmured before letting go. "You don't want to catch a cold."

For the first time in a hundred years, Ramon felt the urge to cry.

Kiyama did not comment as Tsuchiya Satoshi fell into step with him as they walked home together. It was a somewhat regular routine for the two, since they lived relatively close to each other. Though Tsuchiya looked hale enough, Kiyama was always afraid that his kohai would overexert himself and suddenly collapse.

And now it looked like his kohai had something that he wanted to say, but in his usual tactful manner, was too timid to say it outright.

Fortunately, Kiyama could be very patient when the situation called for it.

"Ano…"

Kiyama waited.

"Kiyama-senpai…you see a lot, don't you?"

Kiyama grunted.

Unperturbed by his senpai's gruffness, Tsuchiya continued.

"As manager, it's my job to look after the team, but sometimes it's hard, though. I don't like to see everyone in pain, so lost in their own problems that they forget that help is always close by."

"I get that everyone wants to work out their problems by themselves," Tsuchiya said. "So I don't want to say anything. All I can do is listen."

Kiyama was taken aback by Tsuchiya's imploring gaze.

"I'm not strong like you, Kiyama-senpai," Tsuchiya said. "And my eyes aren't as far-seeing as yours, but even I can tell that there is something that's bothering you."

"Don't be ridiculous," Kiyama said, a bit too quickly.

Tsuchiya's lips lifted into a warm smile.

"You're worried for Mizusawa-senpai," he said. "And it's not your usual fretting. You keep fingering that bracelet of yours."

Kiyama looked down at his right wrist and caught his fingers deftly turning the green and white glass beads.

"That seems important to you."

"It was from Takashi." There. Kiyama had said it. Never before had he uttered his dead friend's name before those who hadn't already known him.

And now Tsuchiya knew as well.

"Do you pray with it?"

Kiyama's fingers paused in their bead turning.

"I guess you can call it that," he said. "My old man wouldn't be too happy."

"Oh?"

"My dad went atheist. Broke my grandfather's heart, actually, since he didn't want the line of onmyouji to end."

"Your grandfather practices magic?" Tsuchiya asked, looking intrigued.

"Says he does," Kiyama corrected. "He's always warning us about bad weather and giving out ofuda and omamori. He even gave me a hamaya to ward off evil spirits for New Year's. My dad threw it all away."

"Your grandfather must have cared a lot, though," Tsuchiya pointed out.

"Are you kidding? He's nothing more than a crazy Shinto priest…but I kept the hamaya, though." Kiyama's face became more thoughtful. "He said he liked me, and some mumbo-jumbo about a strong aura. It's his fault that I always notice every little thing, like I'm expecting some mononoke to ambush me—"

To Tsuchiya's alarm, Kiyama's shoulders suddenly tensed, and furrowed his brow.

"What's wrong?"

Kiyama's eyes narrowed.

"I've got a bad feeling…"

Tsuchiya watched Kiyama dash off without another word.

"I think your grandfather would be happy for you, Kiyama-senpai," Tsuchiya said. "I think you're more like him than you think."

"Try the cake, Yuta-niichan, it's really good!"

They were in the tearoom. Though Yuta had been under the impression that it was evening tea, a veritable feast was spread out over the dark polished wooden tables. Cold-cut sandwiches sat along platters of sashimi, accompanied by bowls of miso soup and rice. Jiro was slicing a chocolate cake, all the while scowling at Ramon who whisked away the cake slices as quickly as Jiro cut them.

"Everyone knows that you're supposed to eat the sashimi first—you're going to spoil your appetite," Jiro scolded.

"Eh? Don't be so picky, Jiro! It's just evening tea, so it's not like it matters," Ramon kicked off his shoes as he dropped several sugar cubes into his tea.

"More tea?" Riki asked, holding out a porcelain teapot in Yuta's face.

"Um, no, thank you, I'm good," Yuta said, lifting his half-full teacup.

Jiro, having given up his efforts to keep Ramon away from the cake, settled comfortably into the armchair directly across from Yuta. He propped his elbows on the chair's arms and brought his fingertips together.

"Now that you've had something to eat and drink, we can get down to business," he said. "Rest assured you are completely safe while inside these walls, Kurenai Wataru."

"He prefers to go by Yuta," Kivat interrupted.

"Doesn't really matter to us—you're still Kurenai Otoya's son, one way or the other," Jiro said with a shrug. "You've probably noticed right now that we're not exactly human."

"Ramon-kun mentioned that you're not Fangire," Yuta said.

"Of course not," Riki rumbled, his voice as deep rolling thunder.

"Riki's a Franken," Ramon said and helped himself to the sashimi. "Kind of like what humans would call a Frankenstein, though they got a lot of things wrong. He's very strong, aren't you Riki?"

Riki, looking dignified in his evening tailcoat, bowed modestly before handing Yuta a napkin.

"Riki doesn't say very much," Ramon clarified. "Franken speak rather slowly."

"Or maybe everyone else just talks too fast," Jiro suggested with humor. "I heard splashing upstairs," he added. "So you've probably seen what Ramon is."

"A ningyo?" Yuta guessed, referring to the singing fish-like creature in Japanese folklore.

"Having golden scales would be really bothersome, I'd never be able to escape, Yuta-niichan!" Ramon said, clapping his hands with mirth. "It was a good guess though—I'm a Merman! We're really, really cool. Much better than the Wolfen."

"Wolfen?" Yuta inquired, turning to Jiro.

"Ah, that would be me," Jiro said, lazily raising a hand. "We're like werewolves. Enhanced hearing and smell, superior night vision—what you expect. Except our bites don't turn you into wolves—they just rip you apart."

"Don't scare Yuta-niichan!" Ramon admonished, glaring at the Wolfen. "Don't make us sound like we're monsters—"

"We technically are, and the boy needs to know that," Jiro argued back. "Yuta, you must understand that it is not in our nature to sympathize with humans. I'll give it to you straight—humans are weak. They live short lives and they die so very easily."

"How are you different from the Fangire then?" Yuta asked.

"Fangire wiped our people out," Riki answered, his voice resonating with baritone anger.

"The last Kiva user, the Fangire King, ordered a decree to hunt our kind to extinction," Jiro said.

Yuta gasped.

"But why?"

"Who knows?" Jiro shrugged. "The guy was a nut-job to begin with, though with Fangire that's not surprising. The royal bloodline was pretty screwy too—they've been inbreeding for the last couple of centuries—you got cousins marrying cousins or brothers marrying sisters. But anyways, he was the reason why Fangire invaded our territory and picked us off one by one, till only us three were left." The Wolfen laughed bitterly. "Well, he got his wish, all right. The Wolfen, Merman, and Franken races are done for."

"So that's why you hate the Fangire," Yuta said. "But you mentioned that the last Kiva was the King, so why would you help me?"

"The King is the King. Yuta-niichan is Yuta-niichan," Ramon insisted. "The power may be the same, but it has changed hands. We don't think you'll be a crazy genocidal maniac like the last Kiva."

"Fight for justice, not evil," Riki said.

"This is our chance to strike back," Jiro added. "If you will help us take down the Fangire—"

"I don't want to wipe out the Fangire," Yuta quietly said.

Shocked silence.

"What?" Jiro said with the edge of a snarl.

"Oh, but Yuta-niichan, you promised!" Ramon pleaded, clinging onto him. "We even hugged!"

"I only promised I would listen to what you had to say," Yuta said, gently prying Ramon's hands from his own. "I'm really sorry for what happened to you guys. You've suffered things that no one—human or nonhuman—should go through. But the more I listen, the more it sounds like you guys want revenge. And I can't be a part of that."

"And besides," Yuta added. "I never wanted the power of Kiva in the first place. I only used it so that I could protect my friends."

To Yuta's surprise, the Wolfen threw his head back and laughed.

"Like father, like son! I see you've not only inherited his musical talent but also his absurdly strong sense of justice." When Yuta made to speak, Jiro chuckled.

"Damn Kurenai Otoya…a skirt-chasing womanizer he was, but an honorable man. He saved us when the King personally hunted us down and bound us to this castle. We owe our lives to him." He fixed Yuta with a fierce, steady gaze. "That is why we swore to him to never attack another human, to watch over you, to protect you from harm, and to aid you from the day you accepted the Kiva power."

"But we failed," Ramon said, head bent with shame. "Ten years ago. The night the Kurenai mansion burned down."

"So bored…" Ramon kicked his shoes in frustration.

"Don't scuff those shoes. You know how much they cost?" Jiro said, not looking up from his newspaper.

"An arm and a leg you ripped from the salesman?" Ramon asked innocently.

"No, 5000 yen," Jiro said, looking mulish. "Be thankful for my overwhelming generosity."

"I'm not thankful. I'm just amazed that you'd be so stupid to actually pay the full amount."

"It's called patronage," Jiro said in his defense. "We buy his things, and he keeps his mouth shut."

Riki stomped into the room, his beetle black eyes glittering.

"Fire. The mansion burns," he reported.

Jiro dropped his newspaper. Ramon stopped scuffing his shoes.

"The boy?"

"Gone."

Jiro's lengthening fingernails tore the newspaper to shreds.

"Shit."

Despite his initial reservations, Mizusawa thought modeling looked rather fun.

After introducing himself to the friendly receptionist at the front desk, Mizusawa was greeted by an enthusiastic young photographer named Taiki.

"Come to see Tsugami-san? We're just about done with the shooting for the day, but you're welcome to stay and watch," the photographer had said before bringing Mizusawa to the main studio.

Mizusawa watched Tsugami pose and smile, brushing hair from his eyes while the head photographer animatedly snapped pictures, occasionally barking out orders to Taiki and the other photographers to adjust lighting and change props.

"That's a wrap! Good work, everyone!" the head photographer boomed as the set-up crew began taking down the equipment. "Tsugami-san, do you want to discuss the shooting schedule for next week?"

"We can discuss it tomorrow," Tsugami said, cutting the photographer off. "I believe I have an appointment with Mizusawa-kun. Mizusawa-kun, we can talk in my office."

Mizusawa followed Tsugami.

"Is it really okay not to meet him? We didn't actually set up an appointment—"

"It's fine," Tsugami reassured him, his teeth pearly white. "To be honest, I needed a break. The shoot took longer than usual and we only stopped once." He held the door open for Mizusawa. "As you can imagine, I'm positively famished."

"I didn't mean to keep you from your dinner, Tsugami-san," Mizusawa apologized as he stepped inside, wanting to kick himself for coming at such an inconvenient time.

"Oh, don't worry, you're not," Tsugami grinned but frowned when his cell phone rang. Checking the caller ID, he groaned.

"Bishop…" Tsugami hissed before flashing a smile to Mizusawa. "Excuse me. Wait here while I take this call."

Mizusawa nodded and took a seat as Tsugami left the room, cupping the phone to his ear.

"Hai, Bishop-sama…"

Mizusawa jumped a little when he felt his own phone vibrate against his pants' leg.

"Mizusawa, where are you right now?"

"Kiyama-kun?" Mizusawa said, eyebrows lifting with surprise. "I'm at the Tsugami Photo Studio right now."

"Which floor and room?"

"First floor, room five," Mizusawa answered. "Kiyama-kun, is something wrong? You sound out of breath."

"We have to get out of here now."

Mizusawa dropped his phone, hardly believing his eyes. Somehow Kiyama, sweating and slightly out of breath, was right in front of him.

"Kiyama-kun, what are you doing here? How'd you get here—" Mizusawa paused when he saw the long slim object clutched in Kiyama's fist. "A hamaya?"

"I'll explain later, but we have to go!" Kiyama wrenched Mizusawa from his seat and towards the door.

"Wait, Kiyama-kun!" Mizusawa scrambled to retrieve his fallen phone. He followed Kiyama out the office. "I don't understand—"

"Mizusawa-kun, are you leaving already?"

Tsugami Kaori smiled pleasantly as he stood between them and the exit.

"Gomen, Tsugami-san," Mizusawa apologized, trying to sound calm as he felt Kiyama's grip tighten on his wrist. "My friend—"

"Don't be deceived, Mizusawa," Kiyama interrupted, his voice sharp. "He's not human."

Tsugami's eyes twinkled in faint amusement.

"What makes you say such a thing?" Tsugami asked and beckoned to Mizusawa. "Mizusawa-kun, come with me. We can discuss your modeling career—" He reached for Mizusawa.

Kiyama snapped.

"Don't touch him, youkai!" Kiyama roared and stabbed the model in the face with the hamaya.

Tsugami shrieked in anger as a stained glass pattern rippled on his face and skin.

Yuta paled when he heard Bloody Rose's cry.

"Hear that?" Jiro said, looking grim. "You know what you have to do."

"I can't escape it, can I?" Yuta asked, wincing as the song increased in volume.

"You could try," Jiro said. "I imagine with practice, you'd eventually get used to the pain. But are you prepared for the consequences of doing nothing? Somewhere in this city, a Fangire, with the intent to kill, is attacking a helpless human. Can you live tomorrow with the burden of knowing you let an innocent die when it was within your power to prevent yesterday's tragedy?"

"I don't have a choice, don't I?"

"You always have a choice," Jiro said, baring his teeth into a grin. "Though, sometimes, all the options stink."

Yuta exhaled before exchanging a nod with Kivat.

"Tell me what I must do."

"Motorcycle. It is yours," Riki said as he pulled the dust cover off a red Honda Shadow 750. He tossed Yuta the helmet.

Yuta gawked at the impressive looking vehicle, knuckles turning white as he gripped the helmet.

"The Machine Kivaa," Kivat proudly said, fluttering in excitement. "—designed by Motobat the 16th, master craftsman of the Kivat Race. It was made just for you, Yuta and runs like a dream."

Jiro descended the last of the stairs, with Ramon close behind.

"He's not kidding when he said it was meant for you," Jiro said. "Damned thing threw me off when I tried taking it out for a spin. It's a living motorcycle equipped with the soul of a horse monster—highly temperamental—I guess that's what you call 'horsepower.'" He chuckled.

"Oh, that was terrible, Jiro!" Ramon said as he watched Riki help Yuta with the helmet. "Don't worry about speeding, Yuta-niichan. The Machine Kivaa has Shadow Veil, an invisibility cloak once you hit one hundred kilometers. So go as fast as you can!"

Riki hoisted Yuta onto the Machine Kivaa. The engine roared to life, and Yuta could have sworn the motorcycle purred in delight.

"Ride safely," Riki advised as he stepped back with Jiro and Ramon.

Yuta tossed him a look of sheer panic. "I've never rode a motorcycle before!"

Ramon pressed a button on a remote and a garage door opened up to reveal a shaft of sunlight.

"Remember to look both ways before crossing an intersection!"

"Like he's going to have time for that," Jiro scoffed. "I wouldn't worry too much. Just hold on tight. The Machine Kivaa will guide you."

"Let's go!" Kivat said with delight as he circled Yuta. "Bite!"

Yuta's hand closed on the Kivat.

"Henshin!" Yuta said, transforming into Kiva—

-and then proceeded to almost fall off the bike when Machine Kivaa shot forward.

"Will Yuta-niichan be all right?" Ramon wondered as Kiva left.

"That is what the helmet is for," Riki replied.

Mizusawa had always liked horses. They were handsome, noble creatures, very sleek and fast and graceful. Mizusawa always pictured their equine faces as wise and friendly.

Until Tsugami transformed into a blue carnivorous bipedal horse with claws and proceeded to attack them. Mizusawa's idyllic image of horses was forever shattered.

"Outside!" Kiyama urged, reassuringly squeezing Mizusawa's hand. If the situation had been less dire, Mizusawa might have allowed himself to bask in the opportunity to feel the pleasant sensation of Kiyama's warm, callused hand clasped in his.

Instead, Mizusawa gritted his teeth and followed Kiyama into a sprint as they escaped into the parking lot. With a cry of triumph, Mizusawa slammed the door in Tsugami's horsey face.

"We should call the police," Mizusawa said, his voice shaking.

The door behind them exploded. Mizusawa gasped when a glass shard cut deeply into his arm. He slapped a hand to it to stem the blood flow. Kiyama was at his side, pulling him away from the door as he wiped the blood away with his sleeve.

"It—it won't stop," Mizusawa said, his voice hushed and fearful.

"This really has become a mess, you're more trouble than I thought, Mizusawa-kun." Tsugami advanced on the two, a line of goopy drool sliding down from his jaws. "I should have stuck to girls, but none of the girls I've pursued seem to like me very much…you will have to do. You even look like a girl…"

A pair of transparent fangs materialized above Tsugami and shot towards Mizusawa.

"I said don't touch him!" Kiyama bellowed as he pushed Mizusawa away and lunged towards Tsugami to kick him in the stomach.

Tsugami cursed in pain before cackling in delight. To Mizusawa's horror, Kiyama collapsed to his knees, screaming as the fangs dug into his neck.

"Never mind the hunting restrictions. No one follows them anyway," Tsugami said with detached glee. "I'll just drain the both of you—" Tsugami suddenly made a choking sound, as if something had caught in his throat. His clawed hands flew up to his neck and he retched.

"What's with your life energy? It tastes awful! It's burning my throat!" Tsugami spluttered and waved his hand. The fangs yanked from Kiyama, spitting out a glowing substance. Kiyama took in rapid shallow breaths and he massaged his neck, trying to stop his hyperventilating.

"Kiyama!" Mizusawa tried to pull Kiyama into a sitting position. Tsugami eyed the wheezing Kiyama suspiciously.

"For some reason, you don't taste good. I'll just kill you."

"Kiyama!" Mizusawa cried out as Tsugami charged. Mizusawa cursed his helplessness and the fear that coursed through his body, rendering his arms and legs weak and immobile, unable to protect Kiyama or take him to safety.

Gomen, Kiyama, I got you involved in something like this. It's all my fault—

Tsugami shrieked. Mizusawa ducked, his eyes widening as a red motorcycle flew over them to strike Tsugami in the head. Tsugami dropped to the ground like a stone, moaning as he clutched his head. His whimpering reminded Mizusawa that horses were particularly sensitive to head injuries.

The motorcycle's wheels squealed to a stop. Mizusawa blinked as the rider dismounted. Their savior was a curiously dressed person, encased in a strange red armor that clinked with chains. The rider wore a mask of glinting yellow, the top framed in crimson metal stylized in the shape of a bat.

Tsugami lurched to his feet, his knees shaking as the mysterious rider advanced.

"K-Kiva…" Tsugami uttered in horror as he struggled to regain his balance.

The rider did not reply. Instead, he reached into his belt and pulled out a red whistle and stuck it into the gold bat-shaped belt buckle. Mizusawa started when the bat buckle came to life and pulled free from the belt. The rider kicked up his right leg, almost a perfect vertical split—Mizusawa hazily wondered if the rider did gymnastics—and the bat circled the leg, breaking the wrapping chains to unfurl a set of red bat wings.

When did the sky darken? Mizusawa thought as the rider leaped into the air before gracefully falling back down to deliver the most devastating jumping kick he'd ever seen. Not that Mizusawa had seen that many flying front kicks in person, but even with his lack of experience, he knew that a kick that not only shattered a monster into hundreds of glass shards and left a huge crater in the shape of a bat's wings was a more than impressive one. Maybe even godlike.

When a giant purple dragon castle swooped down out of the sky to chomp down on what was left of Tsugami, Mizusawa imagined that his blood loss might have been greater than he thought.

After the dragon left, the rider walked over to them. Kiyama, who was now breathing more normally, stiffened. The rider immediately stopped and held up his hands in a peaceful gesture.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Kiyama shakily drew in a breath and pulled himself upright, eyes still wary.

"Ah, thanks."

With the mask it was hard to tell, but the way the rider's head turned a little to the right gave Mizusawa the impression that his attention had shifted.

"That looks pretty serious," the rider said. He looked as if he was torn between staying a safe distance from them and wanting to examine Mizusawa's bleeding arm. "You should apply pressure over the wound. Use sterile gauze, or a clean shirt. That will stop the bleeding. Ice and elevation will slow the blood flow."

Kiyama had already stripped his jacket and pulled off his unbuttoned white shirt. Mizusawa blushed, trying to keep his eyes away from Kiyama's bare chest. Kiyama reached over to wrap the shirt firmly around Mizusawa's arm.

"Kiyama-kun, your shirt…" Mizusawa objected.

"You heard what the guy said," Kiyama said, making sure the improvised gauze was secure.

"If the bleeding doesn't stop after about fifteen minutes of pressure, go to a hospital," the rider said, turning away. "If it stops, which I think it will, remember to flush the cut with clean water and apply disinfectant."

"Matte!" Mizusawa called out, his uninjured arm reaching out to the rider, who retreated to his motorcycle. "Tsugami-san…that monster…you saved us…" His voice trailed off awkwardly as he realized he wasn't sure of the question he wanted to ask. "Arigato, for saving us…Kiva."

The rider acknowledged Mizusawa with a slight nod before he revved up his motorcycle and sped out of the parking lot and down the street, vanishing in a cloud of dust.

"Not a bad job," Jiro said as Yuta returned to Castle Doran. After parking the Machine Kivaa, Yuta slowly pulled off his helmet. "You fought well."

"They were my friends!" Yuta exclaimed, eyes darkening with worry. "What else could I have done?"

"Your father's dearest ambition was to obtain the power to protect humanity," Jiro said. "He said that 'all humans are music.' To him that was the most precious treasure—he made it his life's goal to protect that treasure from those who threatened it."

"'All humans are music?'" Yuta repeated.

Jiro leaned in close, his breath puffing in Yuta's face.

"Tell me, Takenaka Yuta, if those people had been complete strangers and you saw that they were being attacked, would you still save them?"

Yuta's eyes watered.

"Yes…" he choked out with a strangled sob.

Satisfied, Jiro released him. He tapped the motorcycle's upper cowl.

"You can keep the bike, you know," Jiro informed him. "It's yours."

Ramon, eager to dispel the tense atmosphere, danced excitedly around Machine Kivaa.

"You should ride the bike to school, Yuta-niichan!" he said. "Then you'd be sooo cool!"

Yuta managed a smile.

"I don't think so, Ramon-kun. Naomi-san would throw me out if I ever did such a thing."

Jiro twitched.

"Naomi? As in Aso Naomi?"

Yuta gave him an odd look.

"Yes, I think that was her name, before she married Hiroto-san. Do you know her?"

Jiro did not enjoy it whenever his thoughts gravitated on Yuri. The memories were still too recent, the pain too fresh in his mind. But Jiro recalled Yuri talking about her cousin Naomi once, and how they had gotten into a big fight. Something about Yuri's work with Fangire. Or maybe it was Otoya. Jiro wasn't sure. Yuri had been a little teary and more emotional than she had liked to admit. Jiro had guessed that Yuri had been close to Naomi and her cousin's cold treatment had hurt her deeply. The Wolfen was beginning to suspect the reason why the Takenakas had adopted Yuta in the first place.

"Probably not," Jiro found himself saying. "There are a lot of Aso Yuri's in Tokyo." He shot Ramon and Riki a warning glare.

Ramon nodded vigorously. "Jiro was very popular with the girls, which was great for him because it made hunting—mmmphhh" Riki covered Ramon's mouth with an enormous gloved hand.

"If you ever run into any trouble, call for me," Jiro said to Yuta.

"How?" Yuta asked.

"Just say my name," Jiro said. "We're connected to the castle, which is connected to Kiva. If you need us, just call for us. We'll be able to find you."

"See you in school tomorrow, Yuta-niichan!" Ramon added, once he had freed himself from Riki's hand. "Try not to mention that I can breathe underwater to Wataru-niichan and the others. They might freak out."

"Look, we know that you didn't ask for this," Jiro said. "Hell, none of us ask for over half the things that happen to us. But that's how life is. You get dealt a crappy hand, and your next hand doesn't look too good either. The good news is that you're not alone in this."

"What Jiro means is that the good news is that you're lucky I'm good at cards," Ramon said.

Despite his exhaustion, Yuta laughed.

Yuta groaned as he checked the number of messages on his phone.

"Fifteen calls from Oomura-sensei. I already told him that I wasn't going to perform next week. A call from Tokyo University's School of Music—I thought I didn't apply there. Two calls from Kaneko. A call from Satoshi-kun. Five calls from Tsurumi—I wonder what he wants. Two calls from Wataru—oh, I'd better answer that. He probably forgot to copy down the homework again. A call from Mizusawa—I hope he's all right. I didn't want to leave him there—"

"You've already helped him enough, Yuta," Kivat said, peeking out from Yuta's schoolbag. "If you had done more, he might have suspected your identity. And your identity as Kiva must stay a secret."

Yuta sighed.

"This is for the safety of your friends, too," Kivat reminded him. "If the Fangire catch wind of who you are, your teammates will be in danger. Kiva has far more enemies than you think—Yuta?"

Yuta had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. His hands clenched as he froze.

"Yuta?" Kivat asked, trying to see where Yuta was looking at. He caught a glimpse of the man Yuta was staring at.

A man with a long chain of buttons strung at his belt.

"You are…the one from before," said Nago Keisuke.

Next Time: Chapter 11- The Many Woes of Nago Keisuke, the Restaurant from Hell, and the Garulu Saber