Becoming Shadowless

Tatara kept careful watch over HOMRA's guest, attentively moderating her fever as Izumo admonished Saburōta for being so irresponsible. It wasn't that he disagreed with Izumo's lecturing, but in Tatara's opinion, the man could have been kinder. They were in this together, and it had been that way from the start. It had to be that way. In Tatara's mind, having another person to share their lives with was kind of exciting, though he would never say it out loud. Now, the woman lying before him was new. She had stories to tell, a personality to learn. He couldn't help but feel like without little accidents, like her, their lives would eventually become tediously dreary.

On top of that, it was clear that Saburōta felt terrible for what happened. Unfortunately, returning with the woman to HOMRA wasn't the end of her trials, and that was the part that had Izumo raising his voice. Until she was out of the woods, Tatara thought it might be best if he stayed out of his friend's way. Instead, he sat on the floor beside the couch and quietly dabbed the cold sweat from her brow.

"I wish I knew your name." Tatara's voice was gentle as he pulled the blankets up higher on her chest. Infection was the price they paid for power, or their abilities were the cost of their resilience. No matter how you spun the coin, you couldn't survive with one and not the other. For some, they owed their lives to that twirling token, but some just managed to be swept up in the whirlwind dancing across the table. "I wonder… if your parents are worried that you didn't come home tonight." He could feel the tension at his back as the bar lingered quietly save for the sound of Izumo sorting some tableware. "Did you have friends who were expecting you?"

Long after he had tuned out Izumo's preaching, Saburōta's adjusted focus could hear Tatara speaking clearly over the conversation he was supposed to be absorbing. He knew what he did was wrong, so listening to his superiors reiterate that seemed arduous. He gently snaked his palm under his hood to cup his nape, his lips twisted around his agonized grimace. The more sense he regained from the events that continued to spiral out of control, the more he understood the gravity of his betrayal. He wasn't necessarily disloyal to his clan, because it wouldn't make a difference to them if another young woman vanished without a trace in the city late at night. The only condemning force to note their involvement would be SCEPTRE4, and they had their own secrets to keep.

The person he betrayed was the nameless woman on HOMRA's couch. Maybe she didn't realize how close to the edge he was. It was equally as possible that he didn't even comprehend it fully until he'd begun to lose control. Because of her, his strength was returning, and HOMRA's fire burned beneath his skin while she battled the cold. He was selfish and arrogant, right up until there was no turning back, but that was nothing new. It was inconvenient. If he could have stayed egotistical instead, he wouldn't be so demoralized to accept that she might not live through the night. It wouldn't hurt so bad.

Sensing their king joining his presence, Tatara gently removed the cloth from Neirah's brow and reapplied his humble beam, but he didn't take his eyes off the girl. "Poor thing. I bet she didn't expect this on a Tuesday night," he whispered.

From where Misaki sat on top of the rosewood bar with his hands clasping the ledge between his legs, he craned his head to the side to try and peek the woman's condition. "How's she doin', Totsuka-san?" When he caught the sight of her heaving chest, he startled and immediately diverted his gaze. "S-s-she's… gonna make it, r-right?"

Tatara didn't answer their nervous hunter's inquiry, but instead, raised his eyes towards Mikoto. Their king was quietly watching over her nearby, his expression void, but Tatara knew his thoughts were rampant. It was easy to tell that he was considering what her chances of survival were before he filled the night with condemning screams.

"I hope this is a lesson to all of you," Izumo calmly reproached. "When you're careless, little slip-ups like this have the power to destroy lives." With a heavy sigh, Izumo closed his eyes and rested his hands on his hips. "Not to mention, it makes the rest of us look bad. It's been hard enough dealin' with the blues, but if the rest of the world were to catch on to these types of things, we'd be screwed."

When Misaki's ears perked to the sound of Izumo's accurate proclamation, he reached from his seat and fisted Saburōta's collar, jerking him forwards to the threat of his balled fist tight by his temple. "Y' hear that!?" he roared. "You owe Mikoto-san an apology right now!" There was a sudden flash of crimson and gold in Misaki's wild eyes as he shook the timid Saburōta into recoiling beneath his abrasive grasp. "Shit like this- This is why guys like Saruhiko think that we're nothin' but a disease!"

Izumo tilted his head over his shoulder, a sense of urgency in his tone as he elevated his voice over the commotion. "Yata, that's enough," he commanded. "Don't take this personally just 'cause Fushimi was there tonight."

"Yata-san, go easy on him," Rikio murmured soundly from nearby. "Kusanagi-san was harsh enough, don't ya think?"

"What?! No way!" Misaki ardently refuted. "Keep your nose outta it, fatass!"

"I'm just sayin'…"

"No, Kamamoto's right," Tatara tenderly interjected from his dedicated post. "There's not much to be done about it now. All we can do is hope that she's strong enough to pass King's test." He tilted his eyes towards Mikoto's quiet contemplation before offering him a tender smile. "Right, King?"

Mikoto did no more than sigh his indifference, a light groan roughening the hefty breath. Either way, she was already dead.

"That's right," Shōhei murmured. "And it's my fault too, mostly. I knew that San-chan was feeling it, and I didn't do anything to help."

Saburōta raised his attention to where Shōhei tried to shoulder some of the burdens in the wake of Saburōta's disaster. "Shōhei…" That sort of self-sacrificial attitude wasn't anything new. It didn't seem to matter how ridiculous her friend acted, Shōhei was always there to bail him out.

"That's not true either," Izumo corrected firmly. "You called me just before things got out of hand. It just turns out that we ran a little late to the party."

Shōhei lowered his gaze with an unsettled sigh. "Still…" He had known that Saburōta wasn't particularly fond of feeding. He would avoid it altogether if he could. But HOMRA couldn't support every picky biter, which meant that it was expected they hunt for themselves and manage their own thirst, regardless of their particular views on the act.

In an attempt to find a silver lining, Izumo lowered his head with a disappointed sigh. "At least she's unconscious," he reasoned hopefully. It was scary enough to be faced with the supernatural, much less the terror of fading life. "It's not exactly easy trying to keep a blizzard and a wildfire locked up with a plague inside you." Izumo forced a dry scoff to mock their bleak circumstance. "We're just one natural disaster after another, aren't we?"

"There's nothin' natural about this." The room stilled to the sound of Mikoto shuffling, and soon, he was nudging Tatara from the edge of the couch with his shin. "Move." His hands were still in his pockets as he loomed over the woman who was desperately trying to raise her temperature. It was an expected reaction to the human body rejecting the virus side of their abilities, and maybe that was the only natural thing about the situation. It was the curse that paid for their power, but sometimes Mikoto wondered if it was worth the life debt.

The Red King crouched by Neirah's side, slowly peeling one hand from within his jeans. After shedding the blankets resting high against her perspiring neck, he observed the open wound left behind by one of his clumsier clansmen. The skin was bruised and discoloured from the trauma, her veins starting to asphyxiate as the toxin spread. There was one way to save her, one way to condemn her. Perspective wasn't going to matter once she had to start filling her glass with blood, but maybe he was too compassionate to let her fade without a fight. Everyone deserved a chance, the ability to choose. She had the latter robbed from her earlier that evening, but he had the power to give it back if she had the will to survive.

"No blood... No bone…. No ash…" He spoke the words quietly under his breath, raising his palm to rest on the open wound lingering where her shoulder curved into her neck. His thumb rested on her pulse as he watched her wheeze, synchronizing them for a moment to help him understand her suffering. Every trace of her was about to go up in flames, regardless of the outcome. If she didn't survive, he would burn the body, and nothing would remain of her legacy. It was a way of preserving order, preserving humanity that seemed fickle in their world. Still, there was a chance that she would be no more than a missing person, a faded memory to hold onto for what may very well be an eternity.

He listened to the low drone of his clan repeat his command at his back, less like a war-cry and more like a cultic chant, all of them except Saburōta. It was quite apparent that the man feared the worst and the apprehension twisted his tongue into knots as his king's hand ignited. Despite the raging fires resting on her skin, the woman didn't awaken, which was a good sign, he supposed. If the blaze caused her pain, it was likely that she would wake the dead with her screams, but she was silent save for her heaving breaths.

After lingering for a moment against her racing pulse, Mikoto extinguished the flame, gently detaching his fingers from her skin as an unsteady hush fell over the crowd. He could have smiled or nodded, something to let them know that he quietly watched the incision on her neck vanish without a trace, but he simply stood. The announcement didn't come until Tatara peeked their success and gave a relieved chuckle.

"Ah! It worked!" Tatara sang delightedly. "Her mark healed!"

Saburōta had just let a grateful smile spread on his face, his fingers wringing his shirt against the centre of his chest when Misaki reached out and snatched him.

"You lucky bastard! What if she had of died, huh!?" Misaki commanded. "You were just gonna put that on Mikoto-san!?"

"B-but she's okay, right!?" Saburōta clamoured. "It's fine now!"

"Is it?" The pair stilled and shot their attention towards where Mikoto stood quietly over the woman with a nearly disappointed look on his tired face. He'd returned his hands to his pockets while he watched her fever subside, but nothing about him seemed proud.

"We don't know anything about this girl," Izumo murmured gravely. "Where she came from, who her family is. Regardless of whether or not she survived, you might've just taken everything she's known away from her."

The intensity in Mikoto's face seemed to subside to make way for traces of remorse. Anyone a part of her life from that moment on was in danger, no matter how good her intentions. In Mikoto's personal experience, it was better that she distance herself from them, for their sake. Maybe he would tell her that someday.

The bleak sentiment even struck Misaki, and he considerately released his target with a nervous sigh. Instead of resisting, he diverted his gaze and gave his offending hand a sheepish rub. "Sorry, Kusanagi-san."

On the one hand, once Neirah learned about what she'd become while slumbering, she could try to go back to her usual, managing her thirst as discreetly as possible as she continued her day-to-day grind. But SCEPTRE4 was a problem, and all it took was one lapse in diligence for her to be repeating Saburōta's mistakes to various degrees. And she might not notice it the first year, or the second, but soon, the young woman would start to watch her friends and family fade while she remained vibrant. Something about that didn't seem overly daunting, at first, but some of their long-standing members knew better.

"Guys, she's waking up!"

Izumo calmly set down the glass he was polishing behind the bar and offered Tatara's announcement a relaxed smile. "Wow, already? That was fast." His heart was a little heavy as he watched Mikoto stride away, escorting himself from the building. "There he goes," he grumbled miserably. "Guess that means it's up to us to explain things to the poor kid." He wiped his hands in a clean rag and turned his holler towards Tatara. "Totsuka, just be ready to charm her if she panics. It'll do us no good if she gets out from under us when Mikoto isn't here." The last thing they needed was the prowling SCEPTRE4 to get their hands on her in her hysteria.

"I'll do my best," Tatara sang in agreement.

Ch'yeh. Misaki cut his tapered leer into his peripherals, where Saburōta waited for the woman to wake. "Can't be that hard if stupid Bandō managed to do it." Misaki immediately yelped to the feeling of Izumo's stern swat nearly knocking him off the bar.

"Show some respect," Izumo commanded. "And keep your butt off my bar." He snorted softly once Misaki reluctantly obeyed his orders. "She's gonna be scared enough as it is. The least we can do is try and act civilized when she wakes up."

Neirah could hear voices around her, and it made her heart start to race. 'Am I in a hospital?' Her thoughts wandered as her hazy comprehension struggled to make out their words. 'Does that mean I survived?' She remembered a wall of flame, and there was someone with a sword. And then- Her fingers twitched at her side, but she immediately tried to stifle the urge to touch her neck. Her memories were foggy, but she could clearly recall the predatory bloodlust in dusky eyes as her captor tasted her skin. 'W-was it all… just a dream?'

"Are you awake?"

A smooth and kind voice was speaking to her, and it felt strangely comforting. Neirah didn't want to open her eyes until she was sure she was ready, though, because it was hard to know what she was going to see. Figuring that she couldn't escape reality forever, she slowly let her thick lashes part, revealing the warm lighting of the bar interior to her tired eyes. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to comprehend her surroundings and gather her thoughts before she searched for the sympathetic voice.

"It's okay, take your time," Tatara reassured her pleasantly. "You're probably going to feel a little funny for the first little bit."

Neirah felt like he had purposely spoken those words to pique her curiosity, because not a moment later, she was rolling her head lazily to the side to meet Tatara's friendly smile. She didn't speak, though. She just stared back at him like she expected him to read her mind and answer all the questions racing through her awakening thoughts.

"Hi," was his simple retort. "I'm Totsuka Tatara, and I'm a friend of that person who brought you here."

That person. When she recalled the encounter to mind, she remembered a white hood, sunglasses at night and a man without a shadow. "Bandō…"

Tatara startled to her first words, a little curious as to how she knew his name. It certainly struck him with entertained thoughts to consider what kind of experience they'd shared that evening. "T-that's right. That is his name."

"Is he… here?"

Saburōta immediately climbed to his feet, a bashful smile on his face to consider that the woman remembered his name and wasn't immediately cursing it upon waking. But, despite his enthusiasm, Misaki was sliding his dubious sneer towards his clanmate.

"Just how did you manage to get her that good?" In the ranks of their elite, there were a few names that stood out when it came to excelling with particular abilities like charms. Tatara and Izumo were undoubtedly the most skilled, on that front, and when he put his mind to it, Yō was also a contender, at least when it came to the fairer sex. The only person who was as bad at it as Misaki was Saburōta, so the fiery ginger had a few bitter notes in his choir to consider his successes.

"Of course. He's here," Tatara offered. "Did you want to see him?"

Suddenly, Saburōta felt self-conscious and a little nervous about facing Neirah even as she quietly nodded her head against the couch. He watched from a distance as Tatara helped her sit up, and soon, the rest of the bar was going to be within her line of sight. Just before Saburōta could respond to Tatara's eager signal to approach, Izumo was grabbing the boy's hood and dragging him into a barstool to push his warning.

"The first words out of your mouth best be an apology."

Saburōta shuddered, an uneasy smile trying to reassure Izumo that he didn't have intentions of anything more. "H-hah… right." And he spoke it as if Saburōta hadn't apologized enough that night.

Neirah's heart was still racing as she quietly took in her surroundings, and when she caught the sight of her assailant, her vacant gaze locked on his unintimidating approach. He seemed hesitant and shy, a little unlike what she remembered from him when they 'met' earlier that night, but that suited her fine. She figured he probably should be nervous.

Saburōta's eyes skirted along the floor between them as he approached, trying to find an appropriate way to address her. He might've preferred her to be ranting and raving. At least then, he would have a reason to justify himself. "H-hello, I mean..." He sheepishly poked his forefingers together. "S-sorry about earlier."

"Oh? You want to stand?" Tatara offered his aid to the dizzy woman and helped her to her feet so she could approach where Saburōta had frozen apprehensively nearby.

Then, from beneath his sunglasses, Saburōta could see that she was no longer casting a shadow when she walked. She wouldn't be able to do that until she adequately fed for the first time. Their king had bought her a couple of days at the most, but she was virtually anemic, and that made his guilt intensify. Saburōta couldn't decide whether it was shame or excitement to comprehend that he'd actually turned someone.

Neirah stopped no more than a meter away from the man who had confronted her, her empty eyes sizing him up with great scrutiny. She hadn't begun to comprehend much of her company yet, Tatara, in part. He seemed pleasant enough and hopefully wouldn't hate her for what she was about to do.

Rikio rushed forward to the sight of Neirah throwing her shoulder into a savage hook that mercilessly crashed into the side of Saburōta's face. The sheer force of her strike left her unsteady as Saburōta crashed to the floor, and Rikio was quick to step forward, capturing her weak frame in his arms. "A-are you okay!?" He rushed out his words, keeping his grip lax in case she wanted to flee his unnecessary nearness, but she seemed content watching Saburōta collapse under the force of her relentless strike.

"I-is she okay?!" Misaki raged. "S-she just took Bandō the fuck out?! Charm her! Charm her!"

"Yata." Izumo's elevated rumble caused Misaki to recoil. When the youth slowly turned his hangdog expression over his shoulder, he quieted to the shake of Izumo's head. "Settle down."

From the stability of a strange man's arms, Neirah finally raised her fingers to touch her neck, where she knew she carried marks from the man currently wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth. She'd knocked his hat off, and his glasses, so that left a familiar sight sheepishly returning her gaze.

When their eyes met a second time, there was more fire in hers than his. Neirah wasn't sure what to expect when she'd struck him. She knew he wasn't human, so she wasn't sure if he could bleed or feel pain. "How does your own blood taste?" She didn't mean for the low quip to come out so sultry in a voice roughed by sleep. Maybe he couldn't taste it at all. However, her spark started to sputter when her tapered gaze slid over the floorboards attentively to see that, stretching past his hips as he sat by her feet, a dark shadow marked his tangibility. It made her second guess everything.

"Oh, I like this one," Izumo sassed brightly. "She came out of that nicely."

When she felt a little more of her strength return, Neirah slowly backed from Rikio's aid, careful not to move too quickly around the strangers surrounding her. After careful reconsideration, she noticed that there were quite a few. There was the kind one by her resting place, the one bleeding at her feet, and the one who helped her stay upright. Then, there was a classy blonde behind a bar, a somewhat hesitant looking ginger clamouring in a crimson barstool, and a calm brunette in a cap helping out the mess she made of his friend.

"Where am I?" she mumbled calmly. "I'll move to address all the other pleasantries later, but this doesn't look like a hospital."

"I know it's not going to be easy to prove right now, but the hospital is the last place you'll need to visit tonight." Izumo kept his tone casual as he picked up another glass and continued his diligent work, offering the woman a seat with his extended hand. "Would you care to sit?"

Neirah slowly shook her head. "I would prefer to stand, thank you," she whispered. "Your friend is right. I do feel strange."

She worked her fingers over the wound that she could have sworn marked her neck, but no matter how tightly her fingers prodded her skin, she couldn't feel it. When she considered how human Saburōta looked by the time she'd regained consciousness, it only added to her apprehension. Doubtful of her memories, Neirah turned over her shoulder to peek her reflection in the front window in hopes of locating the injury only to comprehend that she wasn't among the men in the mirrored surface.

Her hand dropped limply to the sight. She could see the rest of her company, but she wasn't there at all. "O-okay…" she whimpered vaguely, her quaking voice fading as she spoke. "Maybe… I'll skip right to those other… pleasantries."

Soon, Tatara's hand was on her arm again, helping her into her seat on the couch with his reassuring touch. "Here, Kusanagi-san is right. You really should sit for this."

"What did he do to me?" Neirah couldn't stifle the mild urgency in her tone even as she tried to moderate the level of projection.

"Now, now, don't get worked up, or you'll make yourself sick," Tatara cautioned her gently. "You're already doing so well. You're not panicking at all."

She felt like offering for him to step into her skin for a moment to understand how fiercely it trembled. "Who are you people?" she pleaded.

"To answer both your questions in one, we're HOMRA." Izumo laid down his cloth and slowly stepped to the front of his bar, bracing his hips against the rosewood as he calmly lit himself a cigarette. "Which is also the name of my bar, so that's where you are." He snapped his lighter shut with a musical ring and tucked the chrome box away. "The name's Kusanagi, and you already met our resident idiot of the hour."

From where he helped Saburōta tend to his wounds, Shōhei cast their superior a pleading gaze for him to go easy on their friend, to which, Izumo ignored.

"The one playing nurse is Akagi Shōhei, and the one who caught you before you wiped out was Kamamoto Rikio." Without glancing where Misaki's intense leer skeptically focussed on the woman, Izumo reached back and palmed the youth's head over his knit cap. "The pouty one glaring daggers is Yata-"

"D-don't tell her my first name!" Misaki roared. "She doesn't need to know that."

A gentle snort quietly escaped Izumo's chest around his cigarette. "You'll have to excuse him. He's a little short on manners."

"Who're you callin' short?!"

"And temper," Izumo continued. "And now, you might've guessed this already, but we're-"

"Vampires…"

Izumo's calm gaze returned to her distant sapphire stare, absorbing her trauma before quietly nursing the filter of his light. "Yeah, somethin' like that..."

Neirah was thankful when the hush remained so that she could absorb the words he'd spoken, and finally, through the shock, she gathered enough courage to continue their conversation. "Why is my reflection the only one missing from the window?" she muttered apprehensively. It was pretty clear to her that her strange feelings, the way they welcomed her and the events to unfold in the alley all pointed to one concrete conclusion. She was one of them now. "Why… can I see everyone else?"

Izumo was reluctant to drop too much information on her suddenly, but there was no easy way to answer her question. Luckily, before he could respond, a young child wandered down the stairs in a fluffy lion onesie, rubbing her silver bangs from her face before dabbing at her vivid ruby eyes. "Oh, Anna-chan, I'm sorry. Did we wake you?"

"I heard Misaki yelling, so I came down."

H-hah?! Misaki lurched forward, his cheeks blushing madly with humiliation. "A-Anna-chan, don't say my name just now!"

Curious, the child let her clearing vision shift around their company, finally tipping her head back to absorb their newest addition. "Pale."

Neirah startled, looking down at her tan hands and wondering why the ivory youth would consider her as such. "D-does she mean me?"

Izumo sighed and paced around his bar to retrieve Anna a glass of warm milk. "Anna-chan sees the world a little differently than the rest of us," he explained. In the meantime, the delicate child turned her sleepy eyes on Saburōta, to which she cooed softly and murmured something about him being better despite the current ache in his face. "To be specific, she can't see colour."

Neirah considered his words and then gently relaxed her hands. "Why does it sound like there are exceptions?"

"Most of us are red to her," Tatara continued nearby. "Those of us with reflections, that is. So, typically, she doesn't have a problem distinguishing which of us are vampires."

There was something hopeful in Neirah's eyes as she looked into Tatara's reassuring expression. "So, I'm… not-"

"When vampires don't drink enough blood, they experience symptoms much like human anemia. They're typically paler than usual, cold, tired, and some of us get a little irritable." Izumo reached out and beat Misaki's hand away from where he was reaching for the snacks the barkeep was preparing Anna to go with her warming milk. Finally, he raised his attention to Neirah. "They also lose their shadow. Or their reflection." Their humanity. "But a healthy vampire won't stand out much in a crowd, to anyone other than Anna-chan, that is. That's probably why our boy here took you by surprise." He held out his fingers and helped the quiet child into a seat at his bar so she could enjoy her snacks.

Neirah slowly shook her head. "He didn't have a shadow…"

"Yeah…" Izumo knelt behind his bar and sifted through a small fridge mounted in the corner. He withdrew a small vial, observing it as he tapped the glass surface before standing with his selection. "I'd like to say that stupidity is inherent to the thirst too, but it isn't that easy." His tone softened as he emptied the vial into the milk he prepared for Anna, gently swirling the contents until the fluid changed colour. "I'm real sorry about all this. As you probably already guessed, things can get a little crazy when you ignore the signs."

Neirah's stomach began to churn as she watched the little girl innocently kick her feet out in her stool as she gratefully received her milk, and Neirah was almost positive it contained a vial of blood. "T-that child… She's… she's one too…?"

"Anna-chan's parents died in a car crash," Tatara gently informed her. "King brought her back here, but…"

Neirah couldn't help but pry, her curiosity getting the better of her as she felt out her situation. "But…?"

"Remember that I said things get a little crazy when you ignore the thirst?" Izumo initiated. "Keeping human company isn't all too easy for our kind, much less keeping a defenceless child." Even as he kept his expression void, he knew traces of invisible scars were clawing to the surface of their conversation. "Mikoto was just protecting her from the rest of us."

Tatara's smile finally faded as he watched Neirah raise her hands to cover her mouth. "Hey, don't sweat it," he encouraged her tenderly. "Don't worry too much. Kusanagi-san's just had bad experiences, that's all. But I don't think that Bandō-kun hurt you, did he?"

Neirah quietly shook her head, but every rattle made her dizzy. There was no other explanation. After her unexpected encounter that night, she was a vampire. "I-is this… how everyone-?"

"Joined up?" Tatara laughed to try and lighten the mood a bit. "No, we're usually a little more organized. But, like Kusanagi-san said, things can get a little out of hand if you're not careful. King usually has a bit of a say in these types of things."

"You keep saying that," Neirah whispered. "Was he… the one in the alley? He made all that fire."

"You remember that, huh?"

She nodded before tapering her gaze. "And there was… a man with a sword…"

"Oi! Why do we gotta talk about him!?" Misaki raged. He swung his head from Tatara to where he begged Izumo's moderation. "Just tell her the shit she needs to know and be done with it!"

"That's not very friendly, Yata-chan," Tatara hummed pleasantly. "Fushimi-san is just as much a part of our story as you are, don't you remember?"

"He was the one with the sword?"

Tatara reconnected their gazes with a faint smile and nodded. "Yep. He's a vampire too."

Misaki tensed suddenly, and Neirah felt like there was more to the story. Sensing her unrest, Izumo divulged in a second attempt to keep the room brighter than the grave. "Don't take it personally. Yata here's got history with that one," he reasoned. "The two of 'em were bite-buddies."

A livid blush ignited his cheeks as Misaki whirled to face the barkeep. "Oi! Cut that shit out, already!"

"Yata-chan and Fushimi-san joined us together." Tatara's tone started airily, but his optimism very quickly settled into solidarity. "I know he seems pretty lively now, but when Fushimi-san brought him to us a couple of years back, Yata-chan was really sick."

Neirah quietly watched Misaki fold his arms against the bar, nesting his flushed face within them to stare desolately forward.

"If it hadn't been for King, Yata-chan probably wouldn't have made it."

Misaki's balled fists clenched as he recalled the memories that turned sour after Saruhiko's abandonment. It was months after they moved away from home, and he was terrified. Dying was a scary enough fate to accept, but the alternative wasn't perfect either.

"So… immortality…?" Neirah startled to the sound of Misaki's bitter scoff joining the sound of his fists striking the bar, and moments later, he stormed out. When she turned to oversee the commotion, the thicker blonde who had helped her earlier was taking off after the youth.

When Rikio rushed past her, he startled, quickly turning on his heels to offer the woman a respectful bow. "Ah, nice to meet you." Before she could return the kindness, Rikio was chasing off after Misaki into the night.

Izumo sniggered quietly under his breath, delighted that at least someone was holding up their end. "Don't get too excited," he cautioned her. "We can die. We can hurt and bleed too. And it has a whole lot to do with that blue clansman you saw standoff against Mikoto tonight."

"Mikoto," she murmured. "He's the same as King?"

Tatara nodded. "Yep, one and the same. We call him our king because he's our leader. The king of the Red Clan, HOMRA."

"Well, explain the rest, Totsuka," Izumo instigated. When Tatara meekly turned his bashful smile Izumo's way, the bartender sighed his fatigue. "Why do I always have to be the one to tell the story?"

"You're so much better at it than me," Tatara teased. "Probably because you've told it so many times."

"Flattery will get you nowhere." Still, Izumo surrendered to the woman's curiosity. It was only fair that they assisted her in comprehending the world they'd forced her into that night. It was crucial. If they weren't careful, she could end up in a lot of trouble for an honest misunderstanding. If nothing else, she had to appreciate that much. "It started long before us when a big ol' war broke out around these parts. A real nasty demon by the name of Kagutsu Genji was runnin' amok, and your typical noble type, Habari Gin, formed a resistance. That was the first record of the red and blue clans clashing, far as I can tell. Things kind of died off once Habari-san sent Kagutsu packing, though."

Neirah let her weighted gaze scan the floor by her feet. "So, they passed on their powers to new leaders?"

"Habari-san did," Izumo corrected. "He passed it down through one leader to the next until it wound up in Munakata Reisi's hands. He's the current leader of SCEPTRE4, the Blue Clan's king."

She figured that she was going to regret asking the question, but she was still unsatisfied with her knowledge. "And how did your Red King get his powers?"

The hush to return to the bar made Neirah's skin crawl, and she immediately regretted asking. Regardless, Izumo faithfully continued his explanation. "I grew up with Mikoto and Totsuka. We've been together since we were just kids," he started. "But like Yata-chan, Totsuka gave us quite the scare when he turned up terminal one day and that… that didn't sit well with Mikoto." His tone lowered as he caught the humbling expressions on his clanmates, who all knew the tale. "Y' see, Kagutsu wasn't really a vampire, he was a demon. But somethin' nasty outta him was still floating around long after Habari-san cut him up because when Mikoto was out there callin' for a way to bring Totsuka back to us, Kagutsu answered."

Neirah's heart was in her throat as her skittish peripherals slowly turned up in Tatara's direction. He sat pretty casually with his arms resting on his knees, a permanent half-smile livening his sad eyes as he watched her take everything into account. What she was understanding at that moment, was that Tatara and Mikoto were the first.

"Needless to say, there was some trial and error at the beginning," Izumo continued. He slowly slipped out an ashtray and tapped his ashes free of his smoke. "And miracles don't come cheap."

"Do you remember how you felt when Bandō-kun first bit you?" Tatara strategically interrupted. He didn't want to pressure Izumo into revisiting bad memories. "How it made you feel?"

Neirah's toes curled as she contemplated everything said. "Cold," she admitted vaguely.

Her words seemed to satisfy Tatara. "Exactly," he praised. "Basically, the vampirism turned out to be like a sickness. Just biting someone essentially causes them to freeze to death."

Neirah startled suddenly, snapping her eyes towards where Anna was blowing bubbles in her milk. "Is it really alright to be talking like this with a little girl sitting in the room?" Despite her concern, Izumo didn't shuffle away from his diligent work on the other side of the bar. He didn't even seem mildly troubled.

"Don't worry," Tatara gently reassured her. "Anna-chan fully understands what it means to be a vampire. She has to, to survive."

Neirah tilted towards the sound of Tatara's unnerving suggestion. "But I thought you were sort of immortal?"

"It's true that the Blue Clan can cause us a bit of trouble, but that's not the only way." Izumo interrupted by stepping around the bar, quietly approaching Neirah with the drink he'd been mixing while they spoke. "Here. It'll help with the knots."

Neirah's heart dropped into her stomach, churning in the acid as she accepted his offer. It wasn't red, by any means, but after seeing what he did to Anna's milk, she was cautious. "What's in this?"

Izumo turned his lips up into a considerate grin. "I suppose it would be pretty bold of me to ask you to trust me, huh?" He posed it as a question because they didn't have time for lies. What he'd mixed for the woman contained what she would need to survive from that day forward, but he didn't condemn her thoughtlessly. "Either way, it'll help."

She received his offering to free up his hands, but all she could do was stare at it as she rested the tall glass in her lap. She couldn't bring herself to drink. Just the thought of tasting blood, even her blood, made her stop nibbling on the inside of her cheek. "T-thank you…"

To say he was disheartened wasn't entirely truthful. Neirah's resistance came as expected, but he wished there was a way to prove that they only wanted to support her. "See, when you ignore it, nature kicks in. If it gets bad enough, your body's gonna act on pure instinct until it gets what it needs. It's the stuff of nightmares." Neirah still hadn't touched her drink, and although he wasn't insulted, he wasn't ready to give up on her. He saw Tatara open his mouth to intercept the story to come, but Izumo wasn't finished talking.

"And I'm speaking from experience." Izumo could feel the aura of the room shift as Neirah's eyes darted to where his sudden intensity startled her. "Back before three stupid kids realized what they'd done, Mikoto was already feelin' it. He turned on me first, and that's how I ended up tangled up in this mess right alongside them." He didn't know if telling her was enough, but he didn't have any scars to show on his skin. They all rested deep in his heart as he recalled the scent of burning, the pain and fear of watching one of his best friends become something inhuman. "Bastard nearly killed me that day."

The slightest relief softened his tone as Izumo watched Neirah quietly raise her glass to her lips and take a small sip. He could see her consider the contents and the fact that she likely couldn't taste the blood in the skillfully mixed cocktail. It was there, though. It was a trace amount, but it would help to ease her nausea. Her next sip was more substantial and reducing the pressure causing him to vent. "Remember how I said the side effects are cold? Well, without Mikoto's flame, we would freeze too. We didn't know that, at first. We thought that biting was enough to transfer his powers, but it was a two-part deal."

With his index finger, he reached up and touched his collar, where he knew she thought she should be scabbing. "That's why your mark is gone. And don't worry, it didn't leave a scar. If his flames accept you as a strong enough host, it cauterizes the wound, so to speak."

With her fingers rising to her neck, Neirah turned in an attempt to recheck her reflection. When she still couldn't see herself, she dropped her head towards the half-emptied glass in her lap and let her anxiety fester.

"Don't worry. You have time. The flame moderates your body's temperature. It allows you to go longer between feedings." Izumo could tell that the terminology they were forced to use made her queasy, and her skin noticeably crawled. "Just don't be an idiot and wait too long, or we'll be havin' this talk again real soon." He cut his narrow sneer to where Saburōta recoiled in his seat nearby.

"Well, now you know all about us, but what about you?" Tatara interrupted spiritedly. His smile only broadened when Neirah swung her head to face him in place of Izumo. "We don't even know your name yet."

Neirah observed them one at a time. Five of them were left, and since she'd slugged her attacker, he and his friend hadn't spoken. Aside from the announcement that she was supposedly pale, the young girl hadn't vocalized much either. They were courteous, or so she thought, allowing her the time she needed to absorb the situation at hand. Unfortunately, the shock was beginning to wear off, and her hands began to quiver. "M-my name…"

Tatara's smile faltered as he listened to the hesitancy in her voice. He could tell that the pressure was getting to her. "Would you feel more comfortable talking in the other room?" He didn't want to say it, but he was pretty sure that Neirah still wasn't sure about Saburōta. Through broken trust, he understood her apprehension. "Maybe just you and me?"

Neirah's blue eyes widened when her gaze met his, and she immediately sealed her eyes shut. "N-no, I'm fine. It's Tsukiyo. Tsukiyo Neirah." She nervously whimpered when she felt Tatara's hand slip over hers, but she couldn't be comforted by his warmth. The last time she looked at one of them in the eyes, she was losing her senses. She had no way of knowing that there were many other ways to cast charms. "No…" When she climbed to her feet, all eyes whirled to the sound of her glass shattering against the floor. "Not again."

Tatara retracted his touch, stricken with guilt as he watched her turn on her heels to flee them. "Tsukiyo-san! Wait, you were doing so well!"

Worrisome tears stung the backs of Neirah's eyes as her world spun, her weak legs tremoring with every step she took. She was used to managing fear, she was used to death and danger, but this was something else entirely. It was out of her control and closing in fast. 'No… please…'

"Leave me alone!"

From where Tatara moved to give chase, he stilled, a startled gasp hitching in his throat as Neirah yelped before falling onto the floor when she struck an immovable mass in the doorway. "K-King…"

Mikoto was casual as he stepped towards her, looking down his nose at the way she cowered. To any vampire, even a sated one, something was alluring about that fear and the way it tasted. That's what made them dangerous predators, and he was no different than those referring to themselves as his subjects. "You're still here?" he rumbled quietly. He scoffed under his breath as he stepped over her, freeing up her escape route as he passed.

"Ah, King… We can't just send her away like this," Tatara reasoned. "Give her some time to figure things out and then she can go back to her normal life if she wants."

"It's gone." Mikoto didn't address any of their inquisitive gazes as he passed, claiming a seat at the bar and waving his hand like he was summoning Izumo's service for a drink. "What'd she say her name was? Tsukiyo something?" He snorted gruffly. "She's dead."

"King, you're going too far!" Tatara pleaded.

"Am I?" Mikoto's tone was low but strict as he watched Izumo prepare to serve him. "If she wants to go, let her. We did our part. She didn't freeze to death. If she wants to go out there and take a silver sword to the heart, let her. Maybe that'll teach her a thing or two about who she can or can't trust."

"That's cold!"

"So is the alternative." Mikoto received his drink, two large sips nearly emptying the glass before he turned to face the trembling woman on the floor. "Look, kid, despite everything that's happened, no body's forcing you to be here. If you want to go, nobody's going to stop you." When he realized that his sheer intimidation had entranced her, he lowered his voice to a dull growl. "But if you run now, I guarantee that you'll be back," he cautioned her. "You'll see things that you'll wish you'd never seen, things that you never noticed before. There's a target on your back now, and this is the one place where we're still safe."

"Mikoto."

Neirah coughed, watching through bubbling eyes as the young child by the bar popped out of her seat and ran to her king with open arms. She felt hot all of a sudden, like she was about to take fever again, but somehow different. It was real, all of it, and as cruelly as he'd put it, she knew he was right.

Tsukiyo Neirah was dead, and what came after was her rebirth.